And really, why not? After all, this was not a battle in open space, where there were huge distances, furious ship speeds and quickly changing situations to make a mental attack ineffective. Here in the atmosphere the speeds were lower and distances were not measured in the thousands of miles. How far was I on Kasti-Utsh III when I called the repair bots while drunk? About two miles. During each attack, the pirate starships flew at even lower distances. What was more, I personally knew the person piloting the pirate frigate, and that might help.
The issue now was the strength of mental attack and making it a surprise. Could I maybe level Psionic with the free points I had sitting around? Actually no, a different skill governed the power and range of psionic attacks: Mental Fortitude. Then all six free skill points into Mental Fortitude! Raise it to sixty-six!
But alone I still might not manage. I needed the support of the Beast Master with her strong psionic abilities. I addressed her mentally:
“Valeri, I’m going to try and stun the enemy pilot. Support me!”
I received a mental answer from the mysterious huge-eyed girl at once:
“Yes, Gnat. I will help.”
Busy with my and her thoughts, I nearly missed the fact that the pirate ships had long since finished their turn and were coming back on the attack! Target them, to make shooting easier! Stasis net on the frigate, reducing his speed! But most importantly... I turned away from the monitor and concentrated. I needed the leader of the Pride of the Bushy Shadow, he was somewhere very close... There! Somewhere on the very edge of perception, I could sense the presence of another’s conscience. Well, given I managed to connect, take this!
“The forcefield is eating up too much energy and stopping me from beating that horrible Gnat! He is already practically defeated and will not resist, but now I really need energy both for the cannons and so we can turn on invisibility as soon as we’re done. Yes, I should have done that a long time ago!”
I very vividly imagined the tousled Miyelonian Gerd Abi Pan-Miay vexed by the drawn-out battle near the risky space port as he decisively slammed his clawed paw on the console, turning off his starship’s forcefield.
Electronics skill increased to level seventy-three!
Targeting skill increased to level thirty!
Psionic skill increased to level eighty!
Mental Fortitude skill increased to level sixty-seven!
Machine Control skill increased to level seventy-two!
“Got you! I hitted!!! I hitted!!! You seen how he explode right in air?!” Denni Marko’s blood-curdling scream rang out in my headphones, breaking my concentration.
You have reached level seventy-nine!
You have received three skill points.
ATTENTION!!! Gerd Abi Pan-Miay’s danger rating has fallen to eight.
Gerd Gnat, you have been given a reward for destroying the ship of a dangerous pirate!
As I read that message, I felt my wallet vibrate. Intrigued, I unlocked the screen with a finger and my lips spread into a satisfied smile: three million one hundred eighteen thousand crystals!!! That’s what I’m talking about! As it turned out, shooting down pirate bigwigs was quite the profitable business!
“Only eight percent shield remaining...” the Engineer’s dry commentary brought me back to harsh reality.
Our Starship Pilot answered and I heard bravado and slang in his voice, which was unusual for the generally clean and military Dmitry Zheltov:
“Don’t piss yourself, tomcat, we’ll push through! It’s cloudy already, the interceptors are gonna get called off. Or blow up in midair. Only... Damn! I won’t have time to burn enough speed! This is gonna be a hard landing! Hol-d-d ooon!!!”
Danger Sense skill increased to level fifty-four!
I was reminded then of the Shiamiru and my flights with Captain Uraz Tukhsh. After that came a severe blow, the crack of breaking equipment and partitions, and my eyes went dark...
Chapter Twelve. Medicine and Rudeness
A SHARP PAIN brought me to my senses. I even howled, not able to bear it even though a muted voice, sounding as if it was coming from the other side of a wall was asking me to just hold on because I’d be getting an injection of painkillers any moment. And it did let up. The dark circles in front of my eyes dimmed and disappeared and I managed to look around.
I was on the captain’s bridge, but it was no easy task to recognize the room due to the heaps of debris all around. Gerd Mauu-La Mya-Ssa the Medic was hunched over me messing with my left shoulder. And he had his “coffin” levitating next to him with tubes and wires running from it to my body. I squinted and saw a bunch of bright crimson blood streaming out of my chest and forearm and being absorbed by porous synthetic bandages. The medic, turning my head back without even asking and looking closely into my pupils, explained what he was doing:
“Broken collar bone, open fracture, large veins have been damaged. But I have already set the bone fragments and fixed them in place with medical glue. Blood loss has been compensated with perftoran. I’m finishing up with the wound. I’ll just stitch it up and then cover it with a bioresorbable bandage. You’ve got some severed tendons, and your left shoulder was dislocated, but I’ve already put it back. Captain, you’ll have to use a sling for a couple of days. By then the negative effect from the narcotics will have passed, your Constitution will be back and the healing will go at a quicker pace.”
Just two days in a sling? For a person who had fallen from the sky at massive speed and nearly bit the dust on impact with the vile earth, that was quite encouraging. For now I had a weak idea of whether I could wear the Listener Energy Armor over my shoulder sling, but in any case I would say I got lucky. One could expect much worse than that from a starship crash, after all. I asked how the rest of my crew was doing. Were they all alive?
“Yes captain, they are all alive. Vasha Tushihh broke his right leg, his twin brother Basha broke his left. I finished up with them for the most part. They can already move slightly, and in three days they’ll be back to normal. The other crew members have abrasions and contusions, but nothing serious. You were hurt worst of all, Captain. Okay, I’m done. Try not to strain your shoulder for the next few days at least.”
The lean Miyelonian carefully folded all the tubes and bundles of wires back into his flying coffin and started leaving but I stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder:
“I want to say thank you. You’ve been on my ship less than one standard day, but I already can’t imagine how we ever got by without such a capable and experienced Medic.”
The Miyelonian stretched his toothy maw into something resembling a smile. Clearly that was something he’d seen people do, because his race had nothing like that as far as I’d seen, and to them showing one’s teeth was a threatening gesture.
“To me it’s interesting experience and my skills are levelling fast. But if you keep getting into scrapes this often, I’ll be able to write a whole thesis on human medical treatment soon enough.”
That was probably just a joke, but the Medic kept a serious expression on his furry face. I carefully tried to move my shoulder and left arm and was endlessly surprised because the arm worked, and the unpleasant sensations were minimal.
“You’re a wizard, Mauu-La! If you need some kind of medicine or equipment, go talk with Uline Tar. Tell her the captain approved the purchase in advance.”
The thin orange Miyelonian gave a very human-like bow and walked into the hallway, pushing the levitating container in front of him. The Medic didn’t get far before his place in front of me was taken by the Starship Pilot and scaly Analyst.
“Gerd Gnat, it’s all my fault...” Dmitry Zheltov started excusing himself in a voice full of despair. “In the heat of battle with all these maneuvers I stopped watching height and speed. I only noticed our trajectory was near vertical right at the end, when I tried to reduce the angle. Thankfully we landed on our belly, but the speed was too high and all the landing supports broke on impact. We slid a quarter mi
le, stripping our chassis... Uline Tar is with Avan Toi and Ayukh now evaluating the damage.”
“And where did we end up landing?” I asked, extending my good hand to my friend so he could help me up.
“At the Geckho spaceport... well, almost... We didn’t hit the landing zone, broke the fence, and our fuselage is two thirds sticking out. But destruction to the spaceport was minimal. I can’t imagine it’ll cost too much to repair a few sections of fence and put the light masts back up. I’m prepared to compensate the Geckho with my own money!”
I just waved off the foolish offer. To my eye the Starship Pilot had done more than expected trying to save the frigate and all of our lives. He deserved rewards, not fines. The main fault for the crash was with the spaceport authorities for not providing security in their area of responsibility. And that’s what I answered to the crew.
“Yes. With Geckho to speak. Needs. To recommend you be stricture. And rude.”
It was an interesting suggestion from the rough Analyst who had by the way reached level 63. Be rude to the Geckho? Be rude... Well, it was worth a shot. No, I hadn’t forgotten what my faction Diplomat Ivan Lozovsky had said, recommending that I be extremely polite with the suzerains of mankind. But seemingly this was the right time to ignore that.
“Good one. Contract fulfilled. Jarg to observe.”
With these words the Analyst extended me the black polished stone he promised, which I immediately stashed in my Inventory for safekeeping.
“And what about the pirate ships?” I shuddered, remembering the end of the aerial battle. “We shot down one... Where did it land?”
Dmitry Zheltov as the best informed, answered:
“The interceptors didn’t come down into the dense atmosphere after the death of the pirate leader and immediately left combat. But the cloaked frigate fell somewhere in the bay... You could find out the exact place from Ayukh. He was tracking all that. But do you really think something valuable might be recovered? After all, it was falling uncontrollably, it probably shattered on impact with the water.”
I tried to shrug indistinctly, but I winced at the unpleasant sensations. Okay, sure. We’d handle the fallen ship later. Now we had first-order business to attend to. First to talk with the hot-headed master of Earth Kung Waid Shishish, a Geckho known to despise delays. But before that most important conversation, I had to come to my senses. I tried to evaluate my condition.
Well, I could stand on my own two feet. And apparently also walk. I wasn’t too confident with the result, but I tested putting elements of my Listener Energy Armor in their slots. It did work, but it looked funny. My armored metal arm was lashed down tight to my black matte body with plastic straps, leaving it half-bent. I had no way of using my left arm at all. Oh well, it would pass soon enough...
Minn-O La-Fin walked into the room with a huge lump on her forehead. The lump wouldn’t have been so obvious on the Princess’s ash gray skin if not for the thick smear of bright blue anti-inflammatory ointment on her forehead. My wife ran to me for a warm embrace, but she saw my injured arm and stopped short, limiting herself to just a friendly smile. Something was wrong with Minn-O, and it had nothing to do with the lump on her forehead. I spent a long time looking at my wife and couldn’t understand what was bothering me. Then it suddenly hit me:
Gerd Minn-O La-Fin. Human. Dark Faction. Level-72 Cartographer.
“You became a Gerd?!”
“Yes!!!” my wayedda was delighted. “Grandpa Thumor-Anhu promised it would happen before I hit level fifty. My Fame was growing very quickly then, and it looked like he was right. But then you came along and I had that long string of failures. But my confidence gradually returned and my ease and my Fame started growing again. Then a quarter hour ago, I left the starship and my subjects from the First Directory were receiving a shipment from our frigate. They saw me, recognized me, and were thrown off. A few even bit the sand. Then I finally got my status!”
I sincerely congratulated my wife and advised her to be very thoughtful about her new stat points because it might be a long time before she’d get the chance to improve her character like that again. What was most important for a Cartographer? Agility and Perception? I personally would have improved any statistics already leveled to 20+ so that every two points invested would give an extra one for free.
Then my thoughts shifted to a totally different topic. So then, Imran wasn’t wrong, and the three huge antigravity thrusters really were going to the Dark Faction. Most likely, the three Sio-Mi-Doris were going to the Geckho spaceport for that exact heavy, bulky shipment. And thus, if negotiations with General Ui-Taka broke down, we’d have to activate the bombs and blow all three thrusters to hell!
Following Minn-O, somewhat limping, my companion Uline Tar came out onto the bridge with an electronic tablet in her hands. The Trader was clearly upset and, after making sure I was doing alright and paying sufficient attention to her report, started telling me everything that was damaged in the crash:
“Gerd Gnat, all four grav compensators have to be replaced, that is the biggest expense. They’re sixty thousand crystals each. Eleven fuselage panels need to be either removed and repaired or also replaced. The Engineer recommends replacing them because they’ll never be as good as before. Plus the landing supports, bulkhead, computers, instrument panels, screens... All told the repair is gonna run us three hundred seventeen thousand crystals. And let me remind you right away we don’t have that kind of money. At least the cargo, thankfully, was not damaged, but the buyers have already picked it up. We received payment for that, and we will be able to repair some with that. But unfortunately it is not enough...”
Three hundred seventeen thousand crystals... Sure, it was a significant amount no matter what, but easily manageable. I was not planning on hiding the fact that we got a large reward for the head of the dangerous pirate, but it was horribly bad timing. I didn’t want to admit to our private and fairly delicate financial situation with others around. So I limited myself, saying it would be fair to put payment partially or even fully on the spaceport administration, given it had all happened because of their negligence. Uline first considered it, then was intensely inspired:
“You’re completely right, Gerd Gnat! Go right to spaceport leadership and demand compensation, it’s within your rights! Actually, not even. Take me with you! I know I can find the right words to get those do-nothings off their asses!”
* * *
It was the same old dispatcher’s tower but for the first time I didn’t go up the spiral staircase, but the normal high-speed elevator. Unfortunately, it only went as high as the restaurant (or maybe I didn’t have authorization to go higher), so still I had to go the old-fashioned way up the stairs from there. For Imran and Eduard, this was their first time in the spaceport, a real curiosity. My companions stared wide-eyed at the plethora of starships (primarily cargo shuttles) and other crews on the landing strip. And easily visible from the tower, there was a long line of burnt grass from our crash landing.
An unexpected meeting took place on the restaurant floor. I ran into Geckho Diplomat Kosta Dykhsh having a lively discussion with some furry compatriots in identical light space suits. They must have been the crew of some ship. I greeted him politely and started to walk on as not to distract the Diplomat from the important conversation, but he asked me to come closer:
“Gerd Gnat, your counterpart Ui-Taka asked me to tell you that he might be a bit late to the start of negotiations, but he’s doing his best. I saw him on an orange rescue raft in a raging sea and even offered to let him get on my antigrav, but he refused to leave his comrades. Their motor is working just fine, so they should make it in a quarter ummi. If of course the Naiads don’t eat them first.”
It felt like my eyes were opened in the space of an instant. So that was why those shot-down Dark Faction soldiers preferred to part with their armor to reach the raft. Their leader was there and they were obliged to defend him at any cost! Very good thing we didn’t destro
y the raft, otherwise the negotiations wouldn’t have happened.
Taking advantage of the convenient moment, I asked Kosta Dykhsh about the episode my faction had recently been punished for and to tell me exactly how much they had left to pay.
“See, Gerd Gnat, I’ve known Ivan Lozovsky for some time and consider him a friend, but the law’s the law! Your faction has another eighty-two thousand four hundred crystals left to pay.”
I didn’t argue and suggested the Diplomat come up one floor with me and my companions so I could get the cash out of a vending machine. Three minutes later, my faction’s debt to the suzerains was completely paid off.
“I have sent a message to your capital node telling them not to bring any more lumber and ore to the dock to pay off the fine. Your leader is in a frenzy,” Kosta Dykhsh told me secretly. “Ivan’s Authority already took a dip today when you decided to negotiate with the Dark Faction without him. And now there will be another portion of Authority drops when his faction finds Gnat solved all the faction’s problems by himself after all your directors together couldn’t hack it. Ah, I suspect you and Ivan Lozovsky are about to have a serious conversation about leadership!”
Kosta Dykhsh left us and went back to his friends. Then all of us went up a floor. On the very top of the tower, on a floor that housed offices for the various spaceport services, my business partner quickly got her bearings and confidently dragged me and the others to the very end of the hallway.
“This way!” Without hesitation, the Trader threw open a set of plastic doors labeled: “Spaceport Manager,” and ran inside.
I left Imran and Eduard to guard the doors, then walked in after Uline. As it turned out this was not the best time. Four Geckho laying back on the sofas in identical white uniforms were either having a late dinner or early breakfast, although the main “dish” on the table was a large number of vodka bottles. This must have been more of that swill “made by time-honored techniques” that my faction exported cheaply. I skimmed the information on all four of them, trying to determine which of these drinkers was in charge, but didn’t have much success. Their levels were approximately the same: 142-149. And their classes of Supercargo, Financier, Engineer and Gunner did nothing to help me determine who was in charge of the spaceport.
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