by Tao Wong
Dornalor smirked. “Never said we were.”
Ali bristled slightly, but before the Credit-grubbing Spirit could retort, I rapped my knuckles on the table. “All right, sounds like we’re going to Spaks. Anything we should know?”
“Don’t cause trouble,” Dornalor says.
I open my hands wide and give him my biggest shit-eating grin. “When have I ever?”
***
Dornalor leaves to plot our course to the station via hyperspace jumps and some non-hyperspace travel. We could get there a lot faster if we went straight, but according to the Captain, there are protocols that must be met. Otherwise, we would receive a very hot and unwelcome greeting. Rather than continue to question the expert, I left the man to it. Instead, I focused on research about the station. Well, more like I set Harry and Ali to dig into the station via the System while I got the Cliff’s Notes version later.
Mikito wandered off to complete more repairs, a never-ending task after the battle. It seemed to calm the Samurai, a form of physical meditation that did not involve swinging her naginata. It was a rather nice change, considering Mikito had once focused exclusively on training. Perhaps she was coming to accept what had happened to her and Earth. Or perhaps I was just hoping repairing things helped her, creating rather than destroying. At least one of us needs to be a fully functioning adult. Still, whatever healing or peace she has found, she still competes in the arena whenever she has a chance.
As for myself, I took the time to do what I always did when I had a few moments. I cracked open a book, stuck up my feet, and chewed on some chocolate.
“Classes, by common understanding, can be likened to the evolutions and mutations creatures and monsters undergo under the effects of the System. It is further widely accepted that Classes are the framework that mutations and evolutions are applied to sentient creatures. Among the Systemers, it is believed that without Classes, sentients would undergo rapid and unexpected mutations. The Skills, attributes, and advancements an individual is provided are then the methods that the System uses to guide a sentient’s existence under the influence of Mana. Experiments to devolve or refuse the creation of a Class have resulted in failure thus far, with those stripped of a Class via Skill or other, more arcane methods, instead receiving the ‘Classless’ Class. While the Class itself provides only the most basic of generic Skills, the additional attribute points on Leveling has seen the growth of a small Classless group of individuals. Continued observation of this group has seen a small, but not insignificant, increase in random mutations and Skill Choices on Class promotion.
From these experiments and others (see footnotes 85.11), it is clear that not all Classes are equal. Rare, unique, and otherwise prestigious Classes abound in all cultures, species, and civilizations known (with the exception of the I’ss and aqrabuamelu—see foonote 85.12) within the Galaxy. What, then, could the purpose be of these Classes? In all instances where such Classes have been found, it should be noted that such Classes and distinctions in status and rarity were also reflected in the species’ and civilizations’ existing makeup. It is possible then that the System is but creating a reflection of what is expected. The System is providing rarity and uniqueness because society as a whole expects such gradations in Classes and individuals.
Other researchers have objected to this circular reasoning. They have pointed to the fact that in many cases, the provision of such Classes occur to only select individuals, most of whom then go on to Level and gain positions of authority. Statistically, it is true that a higher majority (87.319%) of such prestige Class individuals have achieved a higher median Level and Credit worth than those with less prestigious Classes. Of course, this might be a matter of effect and cause being reversed. Those given such Classes are more likely to succeed due to the Class, rather than the Class being given to those more likely to succeed.
Examples of Classes developed with reference to previous world’s known religion can be found in the…
…
…
It’s clear then that a Class is not just a construct formed without regard to a civilization’s beliefs and perspectives. Numerous research papers (see footnotes 123.12) on newly added societies and growing societies (footnote 123.13) has seen the development of new Classes. Furthermore, new societal sub-groups have been known to create new Classes, the most well-known being the Priest of the System. Of particular interest to this work is the way Classes of lost or destroyed civilizations (footnote 123.14) continue to abide within the System. The existence of extinct Classes lends credence to the belief that the System has a need or desire for such Class data in its daily or future operations. It is clear, from our research and others (footnote 123.15), that the System does use previous Classes as a template for new Classes, creating minor variations in the final result.
However, research on the rare individuals who have achieved a prestige Class from an extinct species have been less than rigorous and…
The shift in inertia pulls me from my book, making me look up. I sigh, dismissing the book. Damn. Just when it was getting interesting.
System Quest Updated
+2840 XP Gained
I grunt, rubbing my chin. Interesting. The experience gain was somewhat higher than usual. Something there then, about Classes. The five-dimensional jigsaw puzzle of the System continues to stump me. Most days, I feel as though I stumble across a new piece of the puzzle, but I’m never given an idea of how big the puzzle is or what the final shape will be. Yet I can’t help but continue asking the question.
What is the System?
***
Two days later, we find ourselves dropping out of hyperspace. There are no convenient landmarks, no planetary objects out here. In the distance, an asteroid field floats. Unlike what the movies would have you believe, even a “dense” asteroid field has rocks that are quite a distance apart. Random coincidence, overenthusiastic Master Classers, and planetary destruction might occasionally create dense fields like you see in the movies, but for the most part, these widely spaced out floating rocks are the norm. And even then, this is considered a “dense” asteroid field.
Spaks sits snugly between the asteroids, shifting its position once in a while to ensure the structure itself is not hit by too large an asteroid. On the other hand, due to its immense size, smaller rocks are ignored. Between the ever-shifting asteroids—some of which have had thrusters added to them to ensure that the entire field can’t be mapped out beforehand—and the gravitic and dimensional mines, the pirate station is supposedly safe from wide-scale assaults. At least, assaults without a significant amount of planning and sacrifice.
Spaks itself is not a single space station but instead multiple waystations that are connected by flexible, metallic gateways. Station Prime sits in the center, surrounded by four overlapping fields of force that protect it from direct entry. Station Prime is the largest of the stations, with the various secondary stations growing smaller as they lead to each ring. However, each station radiates out from Prime itself, so the second ring has three stations and the third, a half-dozen. Each waystation is shaped like a disc with dock spokes radiating from the main waystation lobby, allowing spaceships to dock for repair and refuel. Each waystation connects to the others within its own zone, but between each zone, circular and hexagonal shapes are situated to block off the entrances between the fields.
“Newcomers all have to dock at the farthest station in the fifth hub. To get deeper into the station, you need to have sufficient reputation with the station. Those tubes can all be blown, keeping invaders from getting to the main station easily. The force shields are mostly there for early warning, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they could be—or aren’t already—reinforced by Skills,” Ali says as we float up to the station under quarter power.
“How’d you know all that?” I say, cocking my head.
“I might not be a reporter, but I’ve got my sources too.”
“You mean you asked your Spirit frien
ds.”
“I did,” Ali admits.
Mikito ignores our conversation, watching the starships around us. We’ve all gathered in the cockpit for the trip in, camaraderie driving us to be together even if projectors could provide the same view anywhere within the ship itself. The array of ships out the viewport is interesting—both incredibly varied in design and form, yet uniform in the lack of merchant and cargo ships. On consideration, that makes sense since pirates rarely “take” ships, preferring the insurance payouts. It actually made everyone happier—the goods arrived, the pirates had liquid Credits, and the ship captains still owned their ships. It made everything more expensive, but that was a different matter entirely.
As I stare at the projections, I take in the menagerie of shapes, from the traditional triangular-forms and bulbous, spinning craft to a tentacled monstrosity. Without the need to worry about air resistance and with Skills backing up the construction, Galactic ship design has taken a turn toward whimsy. Or perhaps, considering the range of aliens, it might be a matter of taste.
“Hey, Dornalor.”
“Yes?” Dornalor says, eyes darting around as he reads screens only he can see or the occasional dial on the console.
“The insurance stuff. It’s normally a generic overall fee based off the value of their goods, right? What happens if a merchant ship carries something a lot more valuable than normal?”
“They pay more.” Dornalor gives me a look that asks what kind of idiot I am to ask such a simple question.
“What if they don’t want to? Or decided they couldn’t afford it?”
“Then they’re not insured.” Dornalor frowns, probably trying to understand what I’m getting at.
“So a merchant could decide to pay a minimum amount to the insurance company then run more valuable cargo?” I say, scratching my head. “That seems like an easy way to cheat the system.”
“Pirates run with a wide range of people, including Quartermasters, Assessors, and Merchants. Once they’re on board, they’ll be able to quantify what is actually being transported. Anything outside of the insurance range and…” Dornalor shrugs. “But some merchants still run the risk.”
“Top hat,” Mikito says, interrupting us.
“What?” I turn to Mikito, who points at a screen. I stare as a floating top hat moves to cut in line in front of a spaceship that reminds me of an eastern dragon. Unlike some of the more extreme ships, the top hat’s design is mostly in the edging and side thrusters. I wave, zooming the screen in, and spot what I expected—much of the stylish additions are armor plates that look to be only minimally attached. “I guess they’re not completely insane. Looks like that’s basically ablative armoring.”
Ali confirms my guess.
“Incoming courier the Nothing’s Heartbreak. State the reason for your arrival,” a voice cackles over the radio.
“This is John Lee of the Nothing’s Heartbreak. We’re here to restock and repair,” I say.
“Acknowledged. We are transmitting the rules and regulations of Spaks station.”
“Received,” Dornalor say.
“Docking information transmitted. Please ensure you have the docking fee ready. If not, your vehicle will be impounded.”
I frown. “What’s the fee?”
“Twenty-five thousand Credits.”
“What!” Mikito yelps.
I kind of agree. That’s daylight robbery. Most docking fees are in the range of four to five thousand and that’s enough for a week. Since space is big and building out is cheap, docking costs are generally quite low.
“Thousand hells. Are you people insane?” I say.
“Fee includes recharge, cleaning, and security. Please note that as you have arrived in Spaks’s controlled space, the docking fee is already owed. Attempts to leave without payment of the docking fee will result in corrective action.”
Dornalor keeps his mouth shut, but I see how he still has the ship headed for the station. After some grumbling, I acknowledge the last message and the invoice. Twenty-five thousand Credits is ridiculous, especially considering the ship uses mostly a mixture of Mana and fission materials—none of which need recharging right now.
Even so, we pull into the station after we pay the invoice. Along the way, I eye the other notifications that we receive—a wide of array of advertising messages from local businesses. Some are full three-dimensional holograms, while other advertisements are plain, text leaflets. Spaks seems to function much like a large settlement, with every kind of retail establishment, from clothing suppliers to alchemists, and a variety of established buildings including entertainment centers and an arena. About the only thing the station is missing is a dungeon.
While the advertising is amusing, especially those which are badly targeted—like, I don’t want to breathe liquid carbon monoxide—I’m more interested in the security that Spaks boasts. There are numerous floating weapon turrets, individually manned or automated, as well as the enchanted, weaponized mine fields. Even from here, I can tell some of those mines are entirely too familiar.
“Chaos mines?” I say, shaking my head.
Chaos weapons are ridiculously cheap for the kind of damage they can do. Of course, they’re also ridiculously useless at times. Comes with the territory of being entirely random. The trick is putting enough of them in play that the odds of a series of duds cancel themselves out. I’ve never used a Chaos grenade in vacuum though. I’m guessing that the already random effects get even more useless when pitted against hard physics. After all, randomly summoning a windstorm does nothing in vacuum.
Between all the time I’ve spent working over the security arrangements for the settlements and some light reading, I’ve got enough base knowledge to make a judgment of the visible defensive measures on Spaks, and what it’s saying is that their threat of corrective measures is entirely real. The last thing we want to do is cross the local authorities. Even if we survived their ground game, we’d still have to escape. And that would be a bad, bad idea. Perhaps a Heroic Class with the right ship could leave, but for us poor Master Classers, we’d be blown out of the water long before we made it to the hyperspace limit.
As we slide past the defensive shields, I can’t help but feel like the spider walking willingly into the snake’s den.
Chapter 4
Gathered at the ship’s docking port, I look over my fellow humans, noting the slight tension in Harry’s body and Mikito’s light smile as she props her naginata on her shoulder. Dornalor’s still inside in the cockpit, dealing with the bureaucracy. He’s getting quotes and negotiating repairs. And, I’m assuming, off-loading whatever smuggled goods he picked up.
“Ready?” I say.
Docking itself was the simplest thing in the world, and since we’ve got no cargo, we’re ready within moments. Our docking location is on the outermost ring of the station. That the other ships connected here are broken down vessels and junk monstrosities tells us more than enough about our reputation. Well, that and the ever-so-helpful screen Ali shot to me.
Current Reputation:
- Spaks station: -287
- Pirates (self-professed and System designated): -358
- Galactic Reputation: -4
“Just so you know, those are averages. But between your previous actions and the reputation of Paladins…” Ali says as a reminder.
I get it. There’s more detailed reputation information for each subgroup of course, and our Galactic Reputation is a weird mixture due to our activities. We get points for keeping our word, finishing up any adventures, and collecting bounties, then we get a bunch of points taken away because we kill our bounties and break the law. If not, our entire reputation would be higher.
“Yeah, I figured. Surprised they let us in.”
“Why not? Easier to kill you if you walk right in. And they’ve got a reputation to maintain about being all kinds of accepting.”
I watch Mikito raise an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my mental dithering. That sin
gle movement is all that I need to know that the Samurai is getting impatient. To appease her, and because I’m fed up with myself too, I open the docking bay doors and stride out with a confidence I don’t necessarily feel.
“Evening, gents,” I say to the greeting party.
Perhaps a touch too arrogant, but better to play tough than weak. My eyes sweep over the half-dozen strong group, taking in the Status information of the armed and armored welcoming party. My gaze pauses a couple times, dismissing the usual boring combat Classers.
Oi Rikaama (Rebel Captain Level 29) (A)
HP: 780/780
MP: 1897/2080
Conditions: Unit Boost x 11, Linked Tech x 2, Linked Shield
The Captain is an interesting fellow, a creature that looks like a mix between a merman with frills and scales and a jellyfish. Even as I stare at the humanoid Captain, portions of its body ripple and shift, adjusting to the environment. It’s a fascinating sight that’s only visible because Oi’s combat armor is transparent. Weaponswise, I only see a single monofilament knife and beam pistol on his hips.
I Shao (Outlaw Negotiator Level 18) (A)
HP: 780/780
MP: 1897/2080
Conditions: Truth Sense, Sense Motive, Scent of the Bottom (Line)
I Shao’s round and angular, a creature of crystal and metal shaped to look—to Terran eyes—like a crystal turtle. Crystal arms end in sharp claws, though I spot colored finger paint on their tips. Unlike her friend, I Shao doesn’t carry any obvious weapons.
Kros m’Kaka (Advanced Martial Artist Level 38) (A)
HP: 3890/3890
MP: 430/430
Conditions: Biochemical enhanced reflexes, Chronal distortion (Minor), Sense Weakness
“Martial artist? That’s not what my Skill is saying,” Mikito sends in the party chat, since I had Ali share the status information with the party. His streamlined data stream is a lot more convenient than most of the Skills.
