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NO, I OF COURSE I could have predicted that indulging all the whims of the recently arrived galactic stylist might be a difficult undertaking. However, I severely underestimated the scale of the problem. For one, you see, our spaceport was just too basic and rough for Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth. There were also no throngs of fans waiting to greet him. On top of that, a luxury flying shuttle of some specific rare model did not land right at the gangway of the landing module (and it turned out the receiving party was supposed to know about that, even though nobody told me). He further had to suffer the indignity of breathing unfiltered air, it was about to rain, and it did not behoove him to even so much as walk fifty steps to the shuttle we did in fact send. An endless, and constantly growing list of complaints and whims...
Authority reduced to 106!
That was where my patience snapped. After making absolutely certain that the luxury passenger liner had already left the Solar System and that there were no starships available for rent except for the extremely dingy Shiamiru cargo shuttles on the landing field, I announced to Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth that if he did not immediately settle down, he would spend the rest of his days shearing sheep in the remote mountain villages of Dagestan. I was already so sick of the peacock-primped stylist that, using psionics, I was about to overwrite his memories and force him to change his exit point into the real world. And then the extravagant Geckho would be truly convinced that his homeland was in the Caucasus mountains, and shearing sheep was his life’s calling.
Authority increased to 107!
Rough. Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth was clearly not used to that kind of treatment. Nevertheless, it did the trick. I explained the strange uptick in my Authority as most likely coming from the fact that the capital-city stylist was probably also driving his own assistants nuts, and they were happy to have at least a small break from his exhausting antics. And the rest of our flight to the Geckho settlement passed in silence. Even the sight of the tidy little hotel, nowhere near the most luxurious in the Universe, didn’t draw particular criticism from Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth or his assistants. His group agreed to stay there and had already unloaded but, just then, Viceroy Kosta Dykhsh raced over. Having learned of the capital-city notable’s arrival, he offered to let the stylist stay in his residence — it would be more comfortable, and all his work would be there anyway. I then washed my hands of the matter, finally having delivered the fickle star into the paws of his client.
When I left the game and walked the rest of the way to my hotel room at the Miyelonian space station Kasti-Utsh III, the only thought in my mind was to fall into bed and never get back up. However... There was someone in my room! I could tell by the mysterious noises coming from behind the closed door — it sounded like someone was gobbling down a living being in there, crunching through gnawed-down bones and groaning with pleasure. I admit, the first thought that crossed my mind... strange as it may have been, was Fox. Because the sounds were approximately like what I heard after she took down the Miyelonian cutthroats that attacked us way back when I first met the “space fox.”
And I did have a reason to think of the Morphian specifically — just the day before I had spoken with Fox one-on-one about the problem of members of her small race exiting the game that bends reality. Our talk was thorough and unusually frank. Fox confirmed that Morphians born in the game still had the function set typical of living players, in particular a game menu containing the option to “Exit the Game.” However, none of her acquaintances that had selected that option had ever returned to the game...
No one knew the reason for that. Perhaps, the difficulty or even impossibility of maintaining one form after an abrupt change in circumstances exposed members of her race, and the Morphians were simply obliterated shortly after exiting. But if that were the only issue, as the absolute ruler of the First Directory, I could provide the Morphians virt pods in a safe location. And as head of the faction, I could also enroll the Morphian in my faction and even more or less set a point for her to exit into the real world. Not down to a specific virt pod unfortunately but, at the very least, I could set a region: The Dome near Moscow, the secret science facility in a small town near Novosibirsk, either of two centers in Germany, a wide selection of data centers in the First Directory of the magocratic world or... no, I didn’t even mention the Syam Tro VII Refuge.
Don’t think me reckless. I never forgot for a second that Morphians were dangerous predators and potential man-eaters. But at the same time, I understood that the few surviving members of that race would not be rebellious or go hunting for humans if I gave them a new home after so many centuries of violent persecution. In fact, they would keep quiet as church mice. And they would remain dependent on the game — the slightest infraction and the rule breaker could be neutralized next to their virt pod. That method of control would stay effective at least until a new generation of Morphians was born unattached to the game. Although it would also be possible to control new ones, and I had come up with a few surefire methods. I discussed all that honestly with Fox. My acquaintance promised to consider my offer but was more leaning toward turning it down — she did not wish to put control over the Morphians into someone else’s hands, thus giving them the chance to exterminate the last members of her race.
Then I told her about paid services that provided virt pods, which were primarily on the Miyelonian station Kasti-Utsh III. The Morphian, of course, had long been aware of such services, but she also treated them with a great deal of caution. I assured her that I used one to transfer my physical body to the space station and it all went smoothly. Fox promised to think it over.
I applied some common sense and realized that Fox could never have come to a real-world Miyelonian station, especially in such a short timeframe. Further, my now sharper sense of smell since the Perception boost was picking up Valeri’s perfume and the musk of her big cat. I opened the door with my electronic key and quietly went inside. Little Sister greeted me with a wary gaze and a roar warning me to keep away from her bowl and bag of dry food.
Well, well. I had a panther’s food bowl in my apartment. Unexpected. What other discoveries were waiting for me? I found somebody’s suitcase in the wall closet, and a woman’s clothing on the hangars. In the bathroom there was a huge box of kitty litter on the floor. Just peachy... I headed into the big guest room and didn’t notice any changes. But in my bedroom I found Valeri asleep on my very bed and wearing a semi-transparent nighty. News to me!
No, I did not wake her or demand an explanation, deciding instead to have a talk with her tomorrow with a fresh mind. I switched off the light, went back into the guest room and, without taking my clothes off, plunked back onto the couch. My thoughts were racing after everything that happened, but drowsiness finally won the day. I have a hazy memory mixed in with a dream of the huge panther jumping up on the couch with me, spending a long time sniffing me and finally finding a cozy spot at my feet and giving a happy purr.
* * *
I WOKE UP FEELING LIKE someone was watching me. I turned my head where I thought my observer may have been and discovered the Tailaxian lady sitting in an armchair. If my eyes did not deceive me, the only article of clothing she had on was a big towel wrapped around her torso. The pleasant smell of aromatic oils and the Tailaxian’s wet hair told me she had just gotten out of the shower.
“Good morning, Gnat! Or rather, in local time it is actually late evening.”
The huge pure white Little Sister stretched out next to me and yawned, revealing a toothy maw. I gave Valeri a scant greeting and sat up on the sofa. My dismay did not go unnoticed.
“First of all, let me explain why I’m here so you don’t have any questions,” she suggested and extended me a small sheet of metal foil rolled up into a tube with symbols perforated into it.
I unrolled the foil, looked closer and... couldn’t make head or tail of it. Just unintelligible hieroglyphs. An unknown language, although... I had seen similar glyphs somewhere before. Yes, exactly! In the game that bends reality, on the IR Lens attached to my helmet.
“That is the language of Tailax,” Valeri-Urla told me, very nervous as she did. “It says: ‘Prisoner № 88900341. Did you think you could hide from us? Not on your life! None can escape the retribution of Tailax. Your mother Salaya has already been executed because her daughter ran away. Next in line is your sister Dinka. And after that will be your turn.’ I found this yesterday in my hotel room inside a bottle of perfume on the table. And the door was locked the entire time.”
Worrisome... We really had not considered the fact that the galactic news had shown my Gnat on the Kasti-Utsh III station with the Miyelonian Ayni and some human girl, or that the prison wardens on Tailax might have seen that and recognized their escaped prisoner. Valeri then continued:
“I left the room right away without taking anything other than this note. I know the methods of the Tailaxian secret services just too well, and so I have no doubt that miniature monitoring devices have already been inserted into lots of things, and they probably also left several devices that could kill me. Where could I run to in that situation? I decided to come to your place because I thankfully already had a key. On my way I just got some food for Little Sister and a few articles of clothing for myself — just the essentials.”
Those “few articles of clothing,” by all appearances, had necessitated an entire suitcase and took up nearly my whole closet. But I of course didn’t go poking holes — Valeri was having a hard-enough time as it was. Instead I asked about Dinka — my companion had never told me she had a sister.
“My little sister Dinka was born on Zeta Reaper III just like me but she was kidnapped as a young girl. After that, I one day found my sister in a smugglers’ camp. She was a slave servant of a Free Captain, a woman named Astarta. She was taken by the slave girl’s huge eyes, rare outside of Tailax, and so she took Dinka for herself. I managed to free Dinka from slavery[1]. However... It’s hard to explain, Gnat, but my sister could no longer live in the harsh primitive society of Zeta Reaper and fled back to Astarta. That was five years ago. Where Dinka is now, I have no idea. Most likely, she’s still flying around barely explored space with Astarta’s crew of criminals and smugglers. And if the Prelates of Tailax find her, my sister is done for.”
Hmm... A sad story. I felt sorry for Dinka. But I was much more concerned for the fate of her older sister Valeri, who had come to me for help. For some reason I couldn’t believe she had truly escaped her pursuers. She said she didn’t bring anything from her old room... I picked up the perforated hieroglyph foil and took a closer look. The strange method employed to convey the threat bothered me somehow and even put me on guard. Why all go to the pain of perforating a piece of foil? After all, it clearly had not been written in a hurry on somebody’s knee. This thing took special equipment to produce. No, I didn’t notice anything suspicious — no microscopic ampules of poison or any other things like bugs embedded in the metal. Maybe the perforated symbols themselves served as the elements of some complex electronic circuit that in turn served as an antenna or microphone. Ugh, I wished I could show this note to our Engineer in the game. He could have given a professional answer...
My thought process was interrupted by a knock at the door. But whereas I was just on guard, Valeri-Urla shuddered in fear and very nearly screamed — her nerves were stretched to the limit. I activated the wall screen and brought up the feed from the external cameras. Everything was fine. It was just our common acquaintance Ayni. I unlocked the door.
“Don’t tell her about my problems! We do not need to embroil your tailed friend!” Valeri pleaded, wrapping herself a bit tighter and readjusting the towel. I nodded in agreement.
The Miyelonian came in and greeted us, smiling with all her sharp little teeth. Then she looked with interest at my guest’s peculiar outfit. By all appearances, there would be no avoiding gossip and chatter now.
“Valeri just came over for a visit,” I tried to explain the awkward situation. But my excuses did not appear to be necessary:
“Yes, I can see that,” Ayni waved as if to say she didn’t need any explanations. “Valeri told me about human marriage traditions. She still has her braid of chastity. That means you were just talking. By the way, Fox has been asking about both of you in the game. Weren’t you planning to come train?”
Valeri and I exchanged glances.
“Why don’t we...” I turned serious as soon as I remembered what a difficult test I had in store: facing off in the arena against the high-level killer Morphian. As far as I had seen, she had never been bested. And we would be going toe-to-toe in front of thousands and thousands of soldiers, whose opinion of the Kung of humanity would largely depend on the outcome of this difficult fight.
“I’m coming to train too!” the Tailaxian confirmed. “But I need to dry off first and have at least a little bite to eat. I’m just dying of hunger!”
“Then why don’t all three of us have a quick meal in the same little restaurant we went to last time. And then we can all go train together!”
