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THE WHOLE WALK back through the corridors of the huge building to the aircraft pad we were silent. Our less than upbeat mood was not lifted even when Gerd Mokh Uzsssh the Analyst said the Trillians would repair the Tolili-Ukh X twinbody for free and as quickly as could be arranged. In comparison with the fact that our one-hundred-day countdown was already ticking away, and the threat of real death now hung over our heads, saving a few hundred thousand or even million crystals seemed downright miniscule.
Our group was politely requested to wait next to the shuttle while the Trillian girl I inadvertently purchased packed up her person effects. We were promised it wouldn’t take too long. Okay, sure. We could wait. Imran studied the lavish antigravs of the mafia bosses next to ours and clicked his tongue in delight, promising that one day he would buy himself one just like them. I meanwhile asked the experienced Translator:
“Ayni, so just who is this Prince Hugo Par-Poreh?”
When I saw unhidden fear on the Miyelonian’s whiskered snout, I hurried to add:
“Don’t worry, I already checked with Scanning. You can speak openly — there are no microphones or hidden cameras here at the landing pad.”
But the orange Miyelonian nevertheless pressed her ears against her head in fear and categorically refused to answer my question. Obviously, it wasn’t microphones she was afraid of, but the subject itself. A very strange reaction, which made me all the more certain there was something amiss with the prisoner we had to free. Okay, I’m not a child. I can find the information all by myself in the search system.
Just then, the Trillian girl appeared on the landing pad, walking on her hind legs, supporting herself with her tail and holding the front half of her body upright. But in the building, like all Trillians, she had been using all six feet to get around. While my new acquaintance was still out of earshot, I asked Gerd Ayni to explain these varied styles of walking.
“But Captain, you’ve seen it yourself. Trillians can walk both vertically and horizontally. The latter is much faster. But when in the company of upright walking Geckho and Miyelonians, Trillians can use just their lower limbs. To be honest, I don’t really know why they do it. Maybe we should ask this Trillian?”
Our new companion’s detailed response, which the Miyelonian relayed to me, turned out to be unimaginably simple:
“For Trillians, it is very important to maintain eye contact during conversations. It provides us with information that cannot be gleaned from words alone — the speaker’s mood and emotions, reactions, hidden intentions and many other things. Without eye contact, you can’t properly communicate, and that makes Trillians feel uncomfortable. And so, when interacting with taller Humans, Cleopians or Meleyephatians, Trillians always stand on their hind legs. With Miyelonians, we can go either way.”
Astrolinguistics skill increased to level one hundred three!
I had no idea why that skill improved just then. I hadn’t yet caught a single familiar word in the Trillian language. I couldn’t even tell where her sentences started or ended. To my eye, the Chef-Assassin had just hiss-honk-clicked out a fairly long statement as if in a single breath. Still, I didn’t hear any sounds the human throat would be totally uncapable of producing (unlike, for example, the language of the Meleyephatians which was chalk full of them). And that was a good thing — it meant that, with time, I would actually be able to speak Trillian.
After a brief pause, our new still nameless companion started chirping again. Gerd Ayni translated:
“Captain, the Trillian girl is saying that she has on her person some items which are necessary for her profession but may qualify as weapons. If her master has any objections, she will immediately get rid of the dangerous objects.”
“Have her show me!” I demanded through the Translator.
The weaponry turned out to be a set of tiny metal knives that could not be detected by metal detectors and a vial of fast-acting contact poison to lace them with. The girl Assassin demonstrated her throwing weapons to me. She could attach them to the underside of the claws of her two uppermost pairs of feet and, when the time was right, launch them at nearby enemies with a sharp flick of the wrist. Gerd Ayni translated the Chef-Assassin saying she could reliably kill at least six targets her master deemed objectionable. And if she got lucky with positioning, the number of bodies could go up as high as eight. Not bad, not bad! I considered it a useful ability and allowed my companion to bring her unusual weaponry onboard.
“Okay, let’s go! Imran, take the yoke!”
I pointed the Chef-Assassin to the empty fourth seat in our shuttle, and she obediently took it, wrapping her tail around her body to get seated more comfortably. Modest and bewildered, she was squeezing a small bag of personal items to her chest with her four uppermost limbs.
While underway, just in case, I checked the bag and the Chef-Assassin’s other items with Scanning (I didn’t know what to expect out of the space mafia, which had shown me its teeth on more than one occasion), but there was nothing suspicious or especially objectionable in her bag, clothing or even inside her body. A few changes of clothing and footwear. Several briquettes of dehydrated fiber of both plant and animal origin. Just seasonings and spices, nothing illegal. A brand-new wallet that had never even been turned on and still in its packaging, clearly with zero account balance. Given that, the money I gifted her must have gone straight to her incubator for the purchase. I’d have to issue my companion some cash so she could buy essentials.
The one thing that drew my attention was a dark plastic little ring on one of her fingers:
Null Ring.
Blocks extraction of character information.
So this was how the Trillians were hiding their names and classes in the Hive of Tintara building! All this time I thought it was some special skill.
“Hey, our pals are here!” Imran, piloting the shuttle, tore me from my pensive state, pointing at a group of players leaving the spaceport building and heading toward Tamara the Paladin.
A plump Geckho, a somewhat smaller Geckho next to him, a large Meleyephatian, several humans in combat armor. Yeah, that was definitely my crew! If anything threw me off, it was the two large combat robots marching behind them. Had my business partner Uline Tar bought new Immolators to replace the ones that got destroyed? The robots looked somewhat similar but still different.
“Land right next to them!” I ordered the Gladiator, and our shuttle made a steep bank and abruptly descended. The drop was so precipitous, in fact, that my ears popped.
ATTENTION!!! For violating vehicle piloting rules inside a high-risk area, you have been issued a fine of one hundred fifty crystals. Air corridor boundary violation.
ATTENTION!!! For violating vehicle piloting rules inside a high-risk area, you have been issued a fine of two hundred fifty crystals. Illicit dangerous maneuver.
ATTENTION!!! For violating vehicle piloting rules inside a high-risk area, you have been issued a fine of five hundred crystals. Landing not permitted in this location.
ATTENTION!!! The pilot of this shuttle must present himself at the spaceport transit monitoring department.
The large number of messages dazzled me. Imran, by all appearances, had received them as well because he looked at me in fear.
“I’ll pay the fines,” I promised the Dagestani. “And you should make sure to carefully read through shuttle piloting rules for high-risk areas before you pay the local dispatchers a visit. Ask Ayni to translate. In fact, just have her go with you. You can pin it all on me — say it was captain’s orders. I’m sure they won’t be sticklers and will let you go quickly. Okay, let’s go. Our friends are already running this way.”
They were just as happy to see us as we were to see them. I even had to activate my armor’s forcefield so Gerd Uline Tar wouldn’t crush me in her warm embrace and outpouring of emotion. Of course, questions rained down on me. I told them we were coming back from a business trip in the city connected with getting the frigate repaired, and I wasn’t especially bending the truth either. I told them about the newest member of our crew, the Trillian girl and asked her to be immediately enlisted as our cook.
“So, what are those?” I finally reached a pause in the questions raining down from my first mate and pointed at the unmoving robots.
“Those...” I could read obvious pride on the impossibly satisfied snout of the Geckho woman, “are replacements for your lost Immolators. Brand spankin’ new heavy combat robots of Geckho production, Undeh-Marva Vs (‘Incomparable 5’ in translation from Geckho). These ones have just started to hit the military. I was barely able to get my hands on them. There are none on the open market. I had to use my fiancé Kosta Dykhsh’s army connections.”
The Trader walked up closer to the nearest of the enormous robots, which were distantly reminiscent of giant plucked birds with their wings splayed and leaning forward. With obvious pride, she showed off their thick composite armor with billions of layers of different materials, including some that absorb impact and vibrations, some resistant to high temperatures and even some that were resistant to laser fire. She pointed out their heavy plasma cannons, told me about the huge capacity of their energy shields, and heaped praise on the stabilizing system, which allowed them to fire with pin-point accuracy while shaking, heavily encumbered or executing violent maneuvers.
“This is the very best assault robot for boarding other spacecraft, and one of the most effective on the surfaces of small planets and low-mass heavenly bodies. But wait, captain, there’s more!” Uline pressed a button and the robot opened up to reveal a pilot’s cabin. “Undeh-Marva Vs can fight autonomously, but their main purpose is actually as exoskeleton armor for a Geckho fighters! They’re the best of the best — reliable, easy-to-use killing machines! They can only be commanded by players of the Heavy Robot Operator class, though.”
“Just like the brothers Basha and Vasha Tushihh,” I immediately surmised. And my business partner nodded:
“Yes! That’s who I bought these for. Using the money you promised me for selling the alien ship component for more than one hundred fifty million crystals. That’s right, captain! I sold the new hyperspace drive for one hundred sixty-three million!”
* * *
OVER THE COURSE OF that conversation, we made it back to the ship. The sight of the battle-scarred starship made a strong impression on my resurrected crew. Supercargo Avan Toi gasped and shook his furry head as he examined the cargo hold, which had already been cut away by the repair brigade and was lying next to the ship all twisted and crumpled like an accordion:
“I was inside there when it exploded! How awful!”
I had a brief chat with the returned crew to bring them up to speed, then gave essential instructions to the repair workers, designated a few players to stay behind for security purposes and gave the rest of the crew leave of absence to go visit the glimmering and alluring city of opulence. Right after that, I asked my Meleyephatian Gunner to come see me in my captain’s berth. In the short time I’d known him, Gerd Eeeezzz 777 had proven himself a capable, loyal and trustworthy crewmember so, to my eye, he deserved absolute honesty.
I told him I’d been summoned to join the Geckho army, and that I had no way to refuse the mighty leader of my suzerains Krong Daveyesh-Pir. I figured the Geckho would almost certainly be sending their human vassals into this war with the Meleyephatian Horde, and I didn’t wish to put the Gunner in a situation where he would have to shoot members of his own race. And so I suggested we terminate our contract, offering to pay out the remainder and write a letter of recommendation for his next employer. After all, Eeeezzz 777 was always a truly professional and trustworthy mercenary, while his skills and moral caliber left me beyond satisfied.
Authority increased to 99!
“I completely understand, my captain,” the huge arachnid Meleyephatian bowed respectfully. “No need to pay out the remainder, as I have gotten much more out of serving under you than I truly earned with my work. I have my youth back and I got new unique experience, adventures and a renewed interest in life. As a matter of fact, I actually consider myself obliged to you and, if there is any way I can help you Leng Gnat, please tell me.”
I considered it, then asked him to do me one little favor. The thing was that I had made queries in several search systems about Prince Gerd Hugo Par-Poreh but hadn’t found anything that could have explained why Ayni the Miyelonian was so terribly scared. The Prince was on the older side, a member of the ruling Par-Poreh royal dynasty. A famous and quite respected theologian, an authoritative interpreter of ancient texts, the author of several monographs on religion and philosophy, a brilliant politician and even the leader of some Trillian political party. Based on the biography I read, he was a clever and colorful leader with many supporters among the Trillians. Although he was part of the opposition to the King, his opposition was fairly measured. I had no idea what could have landed the Prince a life sentence from the Meleyephatians, nor what had spooked my Translator so severely. But I was also aware that, here in Trillian space, information about Gerd Hugo could have been subject to stringent censorship, and so I needed to know the viewpoint of this member of a different race.
But how could I pose the question without accidentally revealing why I needed to know and thus fail the mission of epic difficulty? I decided to come at it the long way:
“Gerd Eeeezzz 777, I wanted to get your personal opinion on Gerd Ayni...”
Before I could even finish the huge arachnid Meleyephatian gave a loud chirr, which was clearly meant to parody human laughter:
“Leng Gnat, allow me to be direct. Everyone in the galaxy knows that the Miyelonian is endlessly grateful to you, up to her ears in love and would give her fluffy tail for you without the slightest hesitation.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I was after,” I said with slight embarrassment because that came as quite the surprise, “but nevertheless thank you for your openness. Still, I was interested in something else. The thing is, today the Miyelonian reacted in a way that caught me off guard. While speaking with some local Trillians, the subject of the royal dynasty and Prince Hugo came up, and I saw a look of pure horror on her snout! In fact, Ayni just about perished in fear! I went looking to see what might have scared her so badly, but I couldn’t find anything.”
“No surprise, captain. You would never find the truth in Trillian space. Disseminating negative information about the royal dynasty is strictly prohibited here. Violators are subject to death and in the real world at that. But just so you know, in the rest of the galaxy, Prince Hugo is synonymous with absolute evil. The very embodiment of the most vile, ghoulish and blood-thirsty villain in existence. Some believe that the mere mention of his name attracts misfortune and death. I am not quite so superstitious, captain, but I also have some personal history with the prince, so let me tell you everything I know.”
The Gunner opened a satchel on his side and dug around for a bit. Finally, he pulled out and showed me a small melted piece of dark plastic:
“This is all that remains of my home. My subterranean city of renegades was torched along with all its residents. And it was done in the game and real world at the same time. I am the sole remaining survivor from the whole of renegade nest fifty-six. And that is only because I was in space at the time of the attack.”
“And Prince Hugo was behind it?” I asked in horror, staring wide-eyed at the melted piece of debris I guessed might have come from some plastic furniture.
“Perhaps not the Prince himself, but certainly fanatic devotees of his. Although Gerd Hugo is famed as a sadist and maniac, who loves to watch his victims be tortured. They say it’s how he draws strength and inspiration to commit ever more heinous atrocities. And so, I suspect he was somewhere in the area during the blaze.”
Yeesh... I looked on in silence as Gerd Eeeezzz 777 pressed the piece of plastic to his forehead while silently whispering either a prayer or a curse. Finally, the Meleyephatian put the memento of his fallen homeworld back in his inventory and continued:
“You may not know, captain, but the Trillians used to espouse absolute intolerance to all other species. Genocide was their main religion. The Trillians crept through the galaxy, mercilessly exterminating every living being that stood in their way. But one day, they came across my race and snagged their teeth. Try as they might, they just couldn’t best the Horde. They didn’t have the strength to wage war forever, but their religion prevented them from turning tail or backing down. Until one day the Trillians disengaged from that contradiction and started to interpret their ancient dogmas in a new way, more euphemistically and mildly. They had no further reason to keep up the war with the Horde. An eternal peace was signed. And now the Trillians are more tranquil.”
“Yes, I have heard their history. But what does Prince Hugo have to do with it?”
“Prince Hugo Par-Poreh just so happens not to agree with the new interpretations of the ancient tablets and wishes to return to the era of never-ending war against all alien races. On his homeworld, he is considered a crank and not taken seriously. His political party is small and has no influence on the politics of the Trillian race as a whole. But the minor support he does have, coupled with his close relationship to the King was enough for him to sow lawlessness nevertheless. That monster used his power and money to actively promote his ideas and assemble an army of fanatics. The Prince ferociously despises every creature that is not Trillian by race and would eagerly kill any such alien as cruelly and sadistically as possible. And he kills them in the real world, too. For the last three tongs, Prince Hugo has been behind the majority of the most horrendous acts of terror committed throughout the galaxy, and not only has he not hidden that, he has made a show of publicly claiming responsibility. Sick bastard...”
I kept silent, shaken by what I’d heard. And I had signed up to break that bloodthirsty son of a bitch out of prison?! Had I known, I never would have agreed! Meanwhile, Gerd Eeeezzz 777 continued:
“Once, on a Cleopian station, the Prince’s maniacal desire to personally watch mass executions got the better of him. Just before the civilian staff was gunned down, Gerd Hugo was captured by agents of the Meleyephatians, Cleopians and Miyelonians. Yes, it was a rare instance of several galactic states working together — age-old rivals joined forces to take down the embodiment of absolute evil. What became of the Prince thereafter, I do not know. I hope he was executed. Though I have my doubts — Gerd Hugo is a member of the Trillian royal dynasty after all and executing a relative of the King would be an indisputable casus belli. I have also heard that supporters of that bloodthirsty maniac believe the ‘true king of the Trillians will one day return.’ That may be so. When many millions of players believe ardently in something, the virtual reality all around us takes that into account and even the most irrational fantasies and fears can be brought to life. And after that, the same changes take place in the real world as well. And now, captain, you’ll have to excuse me. This conversation is making me very tense. It’s very unpleasant and painful to me personally, and I’d rather stop talking about it.”
It was unusual to hear such primitive superstitions in a high-tech world, especially from such a seasoned Meleyephatian mercenary, who had truly been to hell and back. But I sensed a distinct sorrow emanating from the hardened veteran. And with it there was grief and... weak-kneed primordial fear. I very cautiously reached out to his thoughts to make certain Eeeezzz 777 sincerely believed the cruel Prince could one day be reborn, even if he had been executed in the real world.
Surprising. Although perhaps there really were good reasons for his behavior and fear. I recalled a recent conversation with Human-3 Faction Diplomat Ivan Lozovsky, in which he suggested that the ghastliest monsters in the game that bends reality may have actually been materializations of players’ fears.
I didn’t insist he keep talking and bid Eeeezzz 777 farewell, wishing the Meleyephatian mercenary luck and paying him a fifty-thousand credit bonus. I even issued him an official writ of gratitude, which potential employers could see in the Gunner’s personal file. Right after I led the Meleyephatian to the gangway and was preparing to return to my cabin, I met the Trillian girl in the corridor carrying the dead Jarg in her arms with a look of satisfaction on her snout!
The Chef-Assassin was ardently twittering and showing off her trophy with clear pride. Given my only crewmember capable of understanding Trillian was off helping Imran get told off for violating spaceport flight regulations, I had to fall back on Psionics:
“Here! Captain, I have killed a dangerous parasite! It snuck onto the starship unnoticed. Jargs are dangerous because they can explode, killing everything around with shrapnel and poison gas. But I managed to shoot him before he caused any trouble!”
It took a good bit of effort, but I eventually spotted two tiny throwing knives almost entirely embedded in my Analyst’s snout.
“Great job, of course. But did it not give you pause that this Jarg is from the very same Relict Faction as your captain? You could have seen it over his head. It’s also written there on his chest plates. Or what about the Jarg having a green, ally marker on your mini-map? Just so you know for the future, this is our Analyst, and he is a very sensible one at that. As a matter of fact, his cabin is the one next to yours.”
“Whoops!” She threw her trophy down in shame and covered her snout with all four upper limbs at once. “I was scared and must have gotten ahead of myself trying to eliminate the threat, so I didn’t notice. My first day working for an important master and already such an embarrassing mistake...”
Our conversation ended there, because my First Mate Gerd Uline Tar ran into the corridor looking startled:
“Leng Gnat, we’re in trouble! I just got word from city law enforcement. Three crewmembers of Tamara the Paladin — Tini, Svetlana Vereshchagina and Destroying Angel were detained while attempting to rob a casino!”
