External Threat (Reality Benders Book #2) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  I didn’t have time for the end of the story because Anya and I had already reached the foot of corncob fifteen, and I had to go up to my virt pod. Anya refused to go up with me, so I said goodbye and scrambled up.

  * * *

  ALRIGHT, LOADING... As usual, before playing, I took a peek at my information:

  Gerd Gnat. Human. H3 Faction.

  Level-58 Prospector

  Statistics:

  Strength

  13

  Agility

  17

  Intelligence

  23

  Perception

  26

  Constitution

  15

  Luck modifier

  +3

  Parameters:

  Hitpoints

  1632 of 1632

  Endurance points

  918 of 918

  Magic points

  226 of 226

  Carrying capacity

  58 lbs.

  Fame

  47

  Skills:

  Electronics

  41

  Scanning

  46

  Cartography

  48

  Astrolinguistics

  66

  Break-in

  23

  Rifles

  45

  Mineralogy

  26

  Medium Armor

  44

  Eagle Eye

  54

  Sharpshooter

  28

  Targeting

  16

  Danger Sense

  28

  Psionic

  23

  Mental Fortitude

  20

  Machine Control

  10

  Attention!!! You have ten unused skill points

  Yes, I needed to find something to do with those skill points right away. It had already been more than twenty-four hours since I got the first of them, and that meant I would lose them if I died. After a moment of consideration, I placed seven into Psionic, which I thought was a handy and promising skill, raising it to thirty. Reading thoughts and controlling creatures was my unique ability. Also, no one was expecting a Prospector to have psionic abilities, so they wouldn’t take precautions. I needed to take advantage of that and improve the skill.

  I placed the remaining two into Targeting. All my combat experience showed that, at medium and especially long distances, Gnat was weak all alone, practically worthless. Yes, he could shoot the Pulse rifle and even sometimes hit, but any Gunner, Machine-Gunner or Sniper would be able to do so far more effectively than my Prospector. But I had very high Perception and, with my present skills, I could detect and mark enemies from very far away, which was a much greater help.

  Well, time to enter the game. I appeared just were I exited — a square in my central base, a mere three steps from Vasiliadi’s warehouses. Yesterday, I wanted to get some more grenades, and ask for another battery for my Pulse rifle, but he wasn’t there. But now, despite the late hour, the stock keeper was in the game and noticed me right away:

  “Ah Gnat old boy! I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age! What’s it been, five days... or has it been six?”

  “It’s been eight days, eight. But I’m happy to see you, too!”

  The giant stock keeper embraced me warmly and, without the slightest hesitation, gave me everything I asked for. He even rustled up a battery for the Dark Faction rifle, which he had squirreled away somewhere even though, as far as I knew, we had a serious deficit of ammunition for captured weaponry. I then, in my turn, parted with the Laser Pistol and the two Dark Faction chameleon cloaks. Then, after some thought, I returned my kevlar jacket and the rest of the standard uniform, putting on my Listener Suit.

  The fact that I had the ancient Relict armor was already known both to my allies and the Dark Faction, so hiding it would be foolish. What was more, the standard medium armor took up lots of space in my inventory and was also pretty heavy, seriously limiting my ability to carry other items. In the end, I needed to move on and part with it. But I did unclip the three trophy tails from the helmet first, putting them in my inventory so I could put them on my black Relict helmet when I had the chance.

  “Look at you! That’s what I’m talking about!” Vasiliadi admired, seeing the energy armor for the first time. “I heard you got some weird cool armor, but this...”

  Authority increased to 16!

  Our conversation was interrupted by the loud arrival of a high-speed two-person buggy, which was being piloted by Lozovsky himself. Seeing my armor, the Diplomat just clicked his tongue, but didn’t say anything out loud, instead suggesting we go see Kosta Dykhsh as quickly as possible. Keeping him waiting would only make him madder.

  * * *

  WE WERE NOT ABLE to talk on the way. The Diplomat was tired and annoyed and driving over the rough terrain at night required extreme concentration. The only question he answered was about the bottles I heard clinking around in the back.

  “Yes, it is vodka. It’s a gift. Geckho love it, so it might come in handy to placate Kosta.”

  Despite the early hour, Dykhsh was already awake and, on hearing the buggy approach, came out of his semicircular metal dwelling. He gave me a dry greeting, just raising a hand, but even embraced Ivan Lozovsky in a sign of deep friendship.

  “What happened with Radugin yesterday? Why the fall in status?” the huge furry Geckho asked first. And I glanced in surprise at our Diplomat because this was all news to me.

  That topic, based on the grimace of dismay that ran over the deputy’s face, was not too fun for him, but Ivan Lozovsky was open nevertheless:

  “Radugin had a break-down... He couldn’t deal with all the stress and burned out psychologically. Instead of preparing for the Dark Faction attack, he gave up and raised his hands without a fight. And that was in public, with one hundred and fifty allied players watching, which of course seriously damaged him in the eyes of his subordinates. That made his Authority fall hard. At the same time, his rank switched from Leng back to Gerd. I’m afraid that when the rest of the faction finds out in the morning, it may go beyond that that, and Radugin may fall back to a regular player...”

  “Radugin was never a fighter by nature. I’ve told you that before, Ivan. But he can’t become a mere normal player. The game algorithms won’t allow it. Fame cannot fall which means that, even if his Authority is deep in the negative, Radugin will always be a Gerd,” Kosta Dykhsh said pensively. Then he asked what would happen to the former leader now, and who would take his place.

  “Radugin is in the game as we speak. He’s relaxing and recovering after he just about died of a heart attack. He’s a talented economic manager, and he knows all our supply chains like the back of his hand. I personally can’t make heads or tails of them. I think our new leader will stick him in charge of production or procurement. But as for who the new leader will be... I have a promising option in mind, but it’s too early to say out loud. We need to first talk carefully with all our high-profile players, so we don’t step on any toes.”

  Kosta Dykhsh and Ivan Lozovsky spent a bit of time in thoughtful silence, then the furball turned to me:

  “Last night, the diplomatic channels were abuzz with alarming news about the start of a war between the Union of Miyelonian Prides and the Meleyephatian Horde. Meanwhile, I got a very unexpected request from Kung Waid Shishish: ‘Find out when the Human Gerd Gnat returns to our space and immediately interrogate him to find out why he started a war between two great spacefaring races. Report your results immediately.’”

  Authority increased to 17!

  Ivan Lozovsky gave a whistle of surprise and immediately asked what I’d stepped in this time. Before answering, I turned my attention on a different matter:

  “So, the political and military protector of humanity Waid Shishish has become a Kung?”

  “Yes, he was promoted just the day before last,” the Geckho Diplomat confirmed and, after lowering his voice, added: “The Gec
kho have no doubt that Waid Shishish, famed for his warlike nature and bloodthirstiness, will want to take part in this conflict. Especially now that he’s a Kung, which means ‘leader of many divisions,’ in the ancient protolanguage. He will want to use it to cement his new status. But I cannot figure out whose side the Geckho will join. Or why Kung Waid Shishish is so certain the Human Gnat could tell him what started this war.”

  Well, I did know. Both the official story and the version the Morphian told me. But I could not tell the Morphian’s tale, where the Meleyephatians themselves had been set up by some unknown client. That would mean mentioning Gnat’s deep conversations with Fox, which would cause many uncomfortable questions. Also, the Geckho might perceive my Miyelonian companions negatively in that case, which could bring a different kind of problem.

  So, trying to avoid the sharp edges in the story of Gnat’s adventure on Medu-Ro IV, I told the story as I heard it from the great Priestess Amiru.

  Yes, I knew where my conversation with the Geckho Diplomat would lead. Right after hearing all this, Kung Waid Shishish, not known for his long temper, would accuse the Meleyephatians of attempting to turn the Geckho and Miyelonians against one another. After that, the Geckho would band together with the Union of Miyelonian Prides and go to war. Did I feel any pangs of conscience over that? Well, why now? The war was inevitable, and my answers would only change whose side we fought for.

  When I brought up Leng Amiru U-Mayaoo, I was interrupted for the first time:

  “So you spoke personally with the incarnation of the Great Female?!” It was funny to compare expressions of astonishment on the faces of different races, and I had a hard time holding back a smile.

  Authority increased to 18!

  I confirmed my encounter with the great Priestess and carried on. In the end, I finished with Gnat being released along with my Miyelonian friends under guard of the First Pride. Both Diplomats remained jumpy for some time, vying with each other to clarify various details. I was worried about the Geckho diplomat’s possible reaction to the two Miyelonians now on Earth, but the furball took this news with utter calm and even ambivalence, just asking their levels and classes. Finally, Kosta Dykhsh thought he’d heard enough and sharply changed topic.

  Screwing his furry face up into a frightening expression, he took a red crystal the size of a pinky finger from a large pouch on his belt:

  “Yesterday evening, Geckho vassals from what you call the Dark Faction placed a huge order for equipment and materials at our space port. They tried to pay for the goods with counterfeit crystals. Of course, they have been severely punished for the fraud. But that led to questions. They fingered you two as the source of the false currency. And ugh, I should of course interrogate you both and really work you over, so you won’t do it again but, as far as I can see, your faction has already been punished for the attempted trade with a dishonest merchant...”

  Ivan Lozovsky and I nodded in syncopation, lowering our heads and doing everything we could to demonstrate repentance and humility.

  “How much platinum did you sell for all those crystals?” Kosta Dykhsh asked, and Ivan Lozovsky, interrupting me, said we sold six hundred seventy-five pounds and for that the smugglers gave us two million crystals.

  “Well, well...” the Geckho shook his head in reproach. “A whole six hundred seventy-five pounds! If you were selling it at my rate, Ivan, you’d have gotten an honest one hundred fifty thousand crystals. And that would be real, unlike what you got stuck with. Maybe, for such a large shipment, my friends would have given you one hundred fifty-five thousand, if the quality was excellent. So take this as a lesson for the future and don’t get into any more sticky business with illegal smugglers. That is all, you are both free to go! But before you leave, take that box off your vehicle and bring it over...”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven. Race Against the Clock

  THE DIPLOMAT AND I were sitting on the bank of a small babbling brook and watching a beautiful sunrise. The sun had not yet come up over the horizon, but it was already shading the clouds pink. The world was waking up. There were ducks dabbling in the rocks, little fish splashing in the river, a myriad of dayflies and butterflies spinning in an infinite dance and hurrying to make the most of their one day of life. We stayed silent. We just didn’t want to talk, because we both understood how lucky we were to have found the official Geckho representative in a good mood. We could have easily been punished just then, and quite severely.

  Finally, I broke the long silence and asked Lozovsky, who was lying back on the grass with his eyes half open, who would be the new faction leader. The Diplomat spit out a worn-down piece of grass he had been twirling in his teeth and turned to me:

  “What do you think?”

  I just shrugged my shoulders indefinitely. I didn’t know much about faction politics, so I had a poor idea of who might become our new leader. Without waiting for me to give an answer, Lozovsky started speaking:

  “Obviously, it must be a famous and authoritative faction member, so the people will consent to be led by them. So clearly, it has to be a Gerd. Tamara, right? Sure, she’s the most popular player in our faction, and the soldiers of the Second Legion are basically all willing to die for her. All that said, it’s easy to imagine our leading a battle charge, but try to think of her sitting inside behind a stack of paper!”

  Here I was in complete agreement with the Diplomat. Tamara could never lead our faction. The Paladin’s place was in battle or wherever we needed to resist enemy magic, never on the far back lines taking reports from production managers and shuffling resources between laboratories.

  “Gerd Tarasov?” Lozovsky continued forwarding candidates. “A great option, the highest level and most respected player. He was the first one I went to, but Igor refused. ‘Not for me,’ he said. He is prepared to take on some of the functions of a leader, like commanding and planning combat operations, but nothing more. So, he’ll be something of a defense minister, subordinate to the head of state.”

  And again I agreed. Tarasov was a professional soldier, and no one could better handle issues of defense than him and his First Legion.

  “We have another Gerd, a scientist, who I also seriously considered for faction leader. Gerd Ustinov is fanatically devoted to his laboratory, and he just sits in there all day. His calling is to bring technology from the game into the real world, and for that, he is willing to experiment for days on end. Ustinov is the one that provides our curators what they expect from the Dome project, so he is where he needs to be.”

  But then who? I had to admit, I was totally lost because, other than the previously mentioned players, there was only one other Gerd in the faction: me. Was Ivan Lozovsky really leading the conversation there? No, I was not ready for that! Not for me!!! Fortunately, the diplomat thought so as well:

  “That leaves you, Gnat. But I don’t think you want to lead. Also the faction, I’ll be frank, still mistrusts you. They aren’t as negative as before, after our explanatory operation, though. Also, your work for the faction is obvious even to the most obstinate skeptics. But you’re still pretty far from being lauded.”

  “Well who do you suggest then?” I asked, understanding that he wouldn’t be starting this conversation for nothing. “Just stick with Radugin?”

  “No, of course not. A leader who doesn’t believe in himself will never enjoy the respect of his subjects. And that is why my suggestion for faction leader is myself,” Lozovsky answered with a slight grin and, before I managed to object, he continued. “My fame is already near thirty, so I’ll become a Gerd any time now. Maybe even today, after the secret operation you helped plan. But if not, it will happen in the next few weeks or even days.”

  Of course, I asked about the secret operation he mentioned. I couldn’t remember what that was about. The Diplomat first declined to share, then admitted:

  “As you suggested, we managed to come to an agreement with the Harpy. Not for one box of food, of course, but their services were quite
affordable. The sneak attack on the unfinished Dark Faction base in the Poppy Fields will be made today at midday when most of their workers are on site. Our Meteorologist is predicting thick cloud cover, so there is a decent chance the Harpies won’t even be seen. The Journalist Lydia Vertyachikh will immediately inform the faction of the grand success, so my Fame and recognition will surely grow. And as I am officially the mastermind of this whole operation well... you understand... if we pull it off, I’ll be a Gerd.”

  Excuse me? Ivan Lozovsky wanted to take all the glory for himself?! Sure, he was the one who negotiated with the Harpies, military and production facilities, but the idea itself was mine! As if sensing my anger, the Diplomat tried to calm me:

  “Don’t worry, Gnat. I didn’t forget your contribution. I know how to show gratitude. Help me become the new faction leader today, and I’ll appoint you head of your very own Third Legion. Then you can command two hundred players of your choosing. But if the life of a military leader doesn’t tempt you, I’ll allow you to create ‘Team Gnat.’ You can take seven to ten players, and you will all be guaranteed complete freedom. No need to ask permission from leadership for anything!”

  What was going on? Was Lozovsky plainly trying to buy my vote without any roundabout turns of phrase? I had to admit that somewhat shook me. However, I was no naive idealist and understood that politics in any form was a dirty thing, so I didn’t object. What was more, I had already come to the conclusion that the Diplomat really was the best candidate, so I was going to vote for him anyway. But if my vote could be traded for favors, why not? Being leader of a Third Legion didn’t tempt me one bit. But as for leading a team at my own discretion... That was a clever move. He really knew how to hook me!