by Tao Wong
All around us, the buildings slowly transform, growing higher as we make our way downtown on PAV and horse.
“Yup. They’ve been real helpful, they have,” Blair drawls. “I hear you just struck a deal with a crafter group for one of your settlements.”
“My…” My eyes tighten before I snort. “You were using the time the quest bought you to look me up.”
“I thought that necklace made things harder for people to buy information on me?” I ask Ali.
“For previous actions. And it doesn’t count if the Guild puts out a press release.”
“They did what!?!”
“Recruiting material, boy-o.” I can hear the exasperation in Ali’s mental voice.
“Seemed fair. There’s quite a bit of information out there on you, for cheap, Redeemer. At least until a few months ago. Then, the information gets a lot more expensive. Be curious to hear how you did that.”
“Har.” I shake my head, somewhat embarrassed at being called out on it directly. It’s not a time that I like to think about directly. Still, of all my titles, that one I earned fair and square, doing something few would have done. Not during the aftermath of an apocalypse at least. It’s a strange title, I’ll admit, and I’m still uncertain why the System gave it to me. Not the why of the action, but the greater why of how it chose. “Looks like you owe me a story then. Rock.”
“Not much to tell, not to someone like you. It came to me probably the same way you earned your other titles,” Blair says. “In blood and tears, in front of a smoking gun, over the corpses of friends and foes alike.”
“Where we going? And are you going to let anyone else speak to me?” I say, having yet to see a single person since the gate guards.
“Not yet,” Blair says with a matter-of-fact honesty. “You’ll be staying with me until I decide you’re safe enough. Hard to trust people like you.”
I would say something about his confidence in dealing with me alone, but I knew that ever since the gate, we’d been shadowed by four individuals, all of them with Advanced Classes. Not as high as Blair, but considering Edmonton must have a finite number of Advanced Classers, I was rather flattered. Hell, even Vancouver didn’t have that many—though that was as much the Sect’s fault as anything.
A few more gambits at drawing a conversation out of Blair gets me nowhere, so I give up and content myself to being led to his house. When we arrive, I’m somehow not surprised to find that it’s a modest duplex. I am surprised by how slovenly the place is—while it’s clean, clothing and other bric-a-brac are strewn about everywhere.
“Bathroom’s upstairs, around the corner at the end of the hallway.”
I grunt in acknowledgement before heading up, sending Ali to keep an eye on Sabre. Soon enough, I’m downstairs again, greeted by a carnivore’s dream of a meal. Conversation at dinner is nearly non-existent, consisting of a lot of gurgled beer, moans of pleasure, and chewing. Without the ladies around, I find myself returning to my more slovenly eating habits, including licking my fingers with gusto. When we’re done, feet up and beers in hand, we get around to the real talk.
“You’re here to set up that Portal of yours, aren’t you?”
“Setting some waypoints, yes,” I say, clarifying matters a little. “Also to make sure you guys are doing okay. We’re in the midst of improving our own towns, and part of that is figuring out what kind of friends we might have.”
“And you think we’re friends?” Blair sips his beer, tilting his head to the side as he looks at me. Without his hat, he looks much less like a caricature and more like a very tired man.
“I think we could be.”
“Even if you’re in a state of war?”
“And you kicking out the Grey Company was all kinds of amiable? Way I read it, your fight was a close thing,” I say. “And you’ve got a lot fewer people now.”
“Not much for mincing words, are you? Thought you people were all kinds of polite.”
“If your town council wanted a diplomatic response, they wouldn’t have sent you,” I point out. Even if my Chinese origins are mostly gone physically after the gene therapy, he knows my background. And that you people was a damn dig if I had ever heard one. Strangely enough, I find myself not that angry – getting another redneck being casually racist was so far beneath my list of worries, it wouldn’t show up even in a thousand years. “And just as an FYI, I grew up in Vancouver.”
“Not Richmond? Hear it’s a little Asia there.”
“Not anymore.”
“Ah…” The not-so-subtle reminder of the apocalypse shuts him down. “We aren’t ready to cozy up to you, but we’re willing to talk.”
I grunt, leaning back and nodding. “Fair enough. But I’m only planning to be here for a few days. After that, well, I’ve got a city to visit.”
“Calgary.”
“Yes.”
Silence descends while we savor the beer and our slowly settling stomachs.
In time, Blair tilts his head, his voice a relaxed drawl. “Might be there are a few interested in helping out. Unofficial-like.”
“We’ll take any help we can. Unofficial-like.”
Silence returns, and this time, it doesn’t leave. I find myself relaxing, content to just sit, knowing there’s nothing more for me to do. Tomorrow, I’ll be talking to politicians and bureaucrats, finding out about the city and trying to put a good face on things. But today… well, today, I get to sit in silence and that’s fine enough with me. Blair might be tough, but he’s a bit of a racist dick.
Chapter 7
“Sure you won’t stay a little longer? I figure you almost have them,” Blair drawls, leaning over the saddle horn of his horse as I straddle Sabre.
It’s been three days since I’ve arrived in Edmonton, and while I’m still restricted in where I’m allowed to go, I’ve made some progress. It probably helped that we got hit by a swarm on the second day. The display of controlled violence I put on was particularly well received. But still…
“People are weird,” I say, shaking my head. “And I’m on a timetable.”
Blair snorts but nods agreeably. A moment later, a five-foot, two-seventy-something man rides up on his bicycle, a rifle slung over his shoulder, a bicycle helmet on his head.
“Rufus,” I greet the man, who flashes me a grin.
“He’ll get you as deep as he safely can. But the rest is up to you,” Blair says, rubbing his chin. “I still ain’t sure about this plan…”
“Good thing it’s not up to you then.” I flash Blair a grin.
He shakes his head and waves us off.
The journey south from Edmonton is simple enough to handle, especially with a Messenger as my guide. I find it slightly amusing when Rufus explains that he used to be a postal worker, which resulted in him receiving the Class. Thank god I didn’t get a class called “Website Designer” or I’d really be screwed.
Rufus does his job well, leading me to Calgary with nary a problem that can’t be solved with a liberal application of violence. From there, he guides me to the current headquarters of the humans in the city—an abandoned furniture warehouse. Since I have his company, we get through their security checkpoints with a minimum of trouble, which is nice, since I played that game already in Edmonton.
That’s the thing I should have realized—Edmonton and Calgary have been working together for the last little while. It’s a partial explanation of why both parties have managed to hold out as long as they have—in fact, Edmonton’s state is partly due to the sacrifice of a number of Calgarians according to Rufus.
“Yo, this is John Lee. He’s from BC and just bounced from Edmonton, where he stayed with Blair. Blair says, and I quote, he’s ‘an okay sort for a slit-eyed fucker,’” Rufus says, looking somewhat uncomfortable saying those words. Truth be told, I’m not sure if it’s the swearing or the racial slur.
On the other hand, at least the introduction has the trio in the command room give me somewhat favorable nods. One is a Fir
st Nations man in his fifties with close-cropped hair and wearing Adventurer chic—an armored jumpsuit and holsters for pistols and knives. The second is a twenty-something weedy man who looks as if he needs a meal or three and a pair of glasses to go with his shirt and pants ensemble. The last is a Nordic blonde of the older persuasion. Her extremely tight blouse, artfully undone one button too much across an ample bosom, screams cougar. It doesn’t help that she certainly has the Charisma for it. Committed as I am to Lana, I can’t help but check her out.
“Mr. Lee, you’re from Vancouver then?” Trevor Badger, the First Nations elder, says after we exchange quick greetings.
“Among other settlements, yes.” I nod to him, a part of me wondering which tribe he’s a part of. After a moment, I dismiss that thought as unimportant to our current situation. Anyway, it’s not as if I’d remember a fact like that. I’d be lucky to remember any of their names by the end of this meeting, if not for Ali and the Status screens.
“Are you here to lend us help?” Donna Luff murmurs. I have to admit, her “Rachel” haircut suits her, but the way she’s smiling has my guard up. That and her occupation of Lawyer. Having dealt with Labashi, I’m not a fan of the Contract Skill she most likely has.
“Pretty much. Sorry it took so long. We’ve had our own things to handle,” I say, grabbing a seat without asking. “Now, I’ve got some ideas, but perhaps you’d care to fill me in. It’s been a little over a week and a half since I’ve had access to a Shop.”
“You didn’t…” Donna says, trailing off since the answer was obvious. No, Edmonton didn’t give me access to their Shops. All of them were connected to City Cores. “Well, we can certainly fix that. But maybe, Charles?”
Charles grunts, leaning forward, his voice as weedy and thin as him. “Well, I can give a wide overview, but of course details will take more time. Here’s where we are…”
Calgary has a total of three City Cores, areas that demarcate the portions of the city and give control of the city itself. Unlike Vancouver or Seattle, which spread its population across numerous adjoining cities, Calgary concentrated most of its population in its main city area. That means they have significantly fewer City Cores to deal with. Initially, humanity had all three Cores under their somewhat fractured control, but with the coming of the aliens, they lost two of the Cores at the cost of quite a few people.
The Kingdom of Peswin currently control a City Core in the southwest of Calgary, beneath the bow river, while the Uvrik are east of the river and humanity has the northwest. Of the three, the Uvrik corporation is in the most tenuous position, having to deal with the brunt of the fighting with humanity, while the halflings sit back and watch from the sidelines.
Those are the basics. The rest is a rundown on the kind of problems the Calgarians are facing. The Peswin currently had the lowest number of Advanced Classes in the city—about twenty or so, all low-Leveled—but had a much larger number of Basic Combat Classers. Uvrik went the other direction, having eleven very high Level Advanced Classers, about a hundred ten Basic Combat Classers, and a very, very large army of drones.
Most importantly for my plans, I got some information about our enemies current defenses. While everyone had settlement shields set up to stop simple probes, everyone conducted on-going attacks, which meant those shields dropped constantly. Unfortunately, that means that everyone has put a decent amount of funds into upgraded sensors. Still, for all that, everyone was on-board with the first part of my plan. Sneaking in and getting the lay of the land, especially with my ability, was uncontestably a good idea.
It was part two that got them riled up.
“You want to what?” Charles shouts, his reedy voice almost breaking as he squeaks his outrage.
“Talk to them,” I say. “Negotiate an alliance. Preferably with both but at least one.”
“Are you insane?”
“No. There’re either right really high Level Advanced Classers or twenty low Level Advanced Classers of the combat persuasion we have to fight. That’d be doable individually, but what happens if the other side hits us right after the fight?” I say.
“We know. Why do you think we’re holding off?” Donna says.
“That’s what we expect you and your men to help us on,” Trevor says pointedly. “Or are you just talk?”
“I can bring a bunch of fighters, enough that we’ll have a decent advantage and most likely won’t lose too many in a single fight. But not many doesn’t mean no one. I’m tired of digging graves and cremating bodies. Aren’t you?” When no one replies, I continue. “If we can find some common ground, maybe make an alliance, why don’t we?”
“Because they’ve killed our people!”
“It’s our land,” Trevor says.
“And how’d that argument work for you guys?” I say pointedly. When I see Trevor bristle, I hold up a hand, my brain catching up with my words. “Sorry. Too far. But getting an ally from another power is a winning strategy, if I recall my Canadian history.”
Trevor grunts, obviously still unhappy. I wonder if offering him a chocolate will help.
“What makes you think they’ll talk to us?” Donna says when the silence gets uncomfortable, leaning forward and giving me an eyeful.
“I don’t. But if we don’t try, we won’t know.”
“And if they try to kill us?”
“Then we’ll have their answer,” I say with a slight smile. “But I figure we could write up a contract to get a diplomatic talk going.”
Donna makes a face, while Charles gets ready to raise another point of contention. I sigh, settling in to continue the argument. We need allies not just for this fight but for all the upcoming fights. We can’t keep pissing off the entire Galactic System. I just hope that we aren’t embroiling ourselves too much into Galactic politics by creating these alliances.
Convincing them took hours, but eventually I received an agreement—after promising to scout out their lands and get moving on preparations for a knock-down, drag-out fight. I’m less than enthused by the idea of that, but between the help we can get from Seattle and BC, we should be able to win. We might even be able to do so without losing too many people, even if we get attacked by both sides. Thankfully, neither group in Calgary seem to be into the entire slavery or random torture business, which means we only have to overcome the basic prejudices and hurt feelings from fighting a constant skirmish for the last few months. Only.
I wish I could say scouting is more difficult, but the fact is, slipping in and causing havoc is just the kind of thing the groups have been doing for the last few months. Joining a skirmishing group when the shields fall is a simple matter, and after that, I limit my attacks. Mostly though, the group of us just run around, making sure I get as much land under my feet as possible.
The next day, we head straight into the Uvrik’s territory for a repeat. Unfortunately, a few hours in, we get caught.
The Uvrik have a somewhat different method of dealing with intruders. Their flying drones blanket the sky, dozens of them swooshing over our heads as they triangulate on our position. Much like Sam’s smaller drones, none of these do much damage individually, but together, they could easily become a problem. More importantly, these ones are focused on slowing us down, hitting us with oil slicks, insta-concrete canisters, and foam barriers. Area effect spells like Lightning Strike and Fireball sweep the skies, but they just keep coming.
“Move, we can’t keep staying here,” Iris, the titular leader of our group, screams.
The African Canadian woman matches actions to words even as she looses an arrow at a coming swarm. The arrow shimmers, becoming a dozen. Each ignites and accelerates into the sky, tearing apart the drones. The rest of us are right on her heels.
As we turn the corner of the next block, the four of us find ourselves faced by a wall of steel. Squat robots have shields held in front of their bodies, and the barrels of their beam weapons sticking out gleam in the summer sky, moments before they fire. The portable shiel
d generator around my waist flares white, soaking up the damage as it teeters on the edge of failing.
“Shit!” A thin, young man ducks away as the end of his long hair catch on fire. The ends burn away as he ducks and rolls. “You assholes! That cost me a hundred Credits to get fixed!”
“Told you you should have gotten the nanoweave!” his friend, Louise, cackles as she stands in the middle of the road, beams aimed at her seeming to bend as they near her form. The twisted flares of light strike the ground, buildings, and drones as she Warps Space.
I admit, I have to grin. It’s time for me to test out a few new spells I purchased just before we left. While I’m not earning as much these days—not having that much time to go hunting has put a crimp on my looting and experience gain—I can give myself a salary as the settlement owner. I’m not particularly clear about the formula used—it has something to do with the type of government, the on-going revenue generation, tax base and tax rate amount and duration—but it’s enough to replenish my empty wallet. It’s a pity I can’t use the settlement funds directly for myself, but if I could, royalty and other settlement owners would be truly broken.
“My turn,” I whisper to myself and raise my hand. A molten bar of fire shoots from my hand, melting the steel and punching into the robot behind the shield. I swing my hand sideways, lopping the creature and its neighbor in half before the attack fades. Even as the after-images of my strike fade, I dodge aside.
“What was that?” Iris pants as she draws a breath, her own attack punching a hole in a robot next to the ones I attacked.
Ali tosses her a description, since he has little to do in this fight, his orders being to stay hidden and undetectable.
Inferno Beam
A beam of heat raised to the levels of an inferno, able to melt steel and liquefy earth on contact! The perfect spell for those looking to do a lot of damage in a short period of time.
Effect: Does 150 Points of Heat Damage
Cost: 125 Mana
