by Drew Cordell
“You think it's that simple? I just don't know what we’re getting into. What if Gwen didn't tell us the full story? There's a real chance she killed her squad to get that Strexian map, and I don't want to be disowned from Dalthaxia. What would that even mean for us on Tiyvan IV?”
“There’s no way Gwen told us the full story, we both know that. But this is what we wanted. We both chose neutral faction, for our own motivations, to get rich. We’re not out running a business in the slave trade, selling illegal narcotics, or anything else scummy, we’re just adventuring. This is what we signed on for. If it turns out we can't trust Gwen and her friend, then we’ll part ways and cut our losses. She's the one with the ship, and there's a lot less risk for us this way. We need to pivot and adjust our strategy in this war, and this is our chance.”
I had already put him through hell in the encounter with the Virodeshian pirates and I wasn't planning on doing anything without his approval going forward. Brandon was right, and it was time we tried things his way. “Okay, I’m in.”
We walked back to join our new friends. “We’re interested in partnering up,” Brandon declared.
Gwen clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Excellent.”
“Do you ladies want to come with us back to Mac’s Armory so we can pick up our gear and leave Vrenn?” Brandon asked, tossing back the rest of his beer with three huge gulps.
I sipped down the last of my whiskey sour, relishing the exquisite flavor profile of spiced oak, sour lemon, and sweet sugar. I had a pleasant buzz going from the alcohol, and the best part about drinking in Eternity Online was you could turn off a killer hangover just by logging out.
Gwen raised a finger. “Not so fast, we don't have everything we need unless one of you two is a good mechanic. We’re talking ‘deep space end of the galaxy’ travel, and if something goes wrong, I need to be sure it can be fixed.”
“If we buy good enough repair kits, drones, or bots, we can fix anything,” I said, before adding, “I’m also able to fly if needed, and Brandon makes one hell of a gunner.”
“We have drones, and I'll be piloting our ship. I'm T3B1 right now at level four,” Gwen informed us. It was quick speak for her character's attribute point allotment: three points in Tech, one in Body. “I'm just worried we’ll need a mechanic by the time we make it to the Strexian temple. If we make it that far. It might not be a question about what we can fix, but how quickly we can fix it.”
I had heard of these mechanic types before, and they weren't cheap to hire—even as NPCs. Having a dedicated mechanic who spent time maxing out their non-combat Artisan skills so they could make repairs and upgrades with limited materials was invaluable to any starship. They were even more valuable when you were exploring regions of the galaxy so remote that the nearest known friendly station or planet was days away even with jump travel.
“Okay… do you have any idea of where to find someone like that?” Brandon inquired.
Gwen nodded. “Yeah, and we’ll make our way there once we’re done with our conversation. You could even pick up your gear from Mac’s while we try to hire the mechanic. All I need now is proof you have the Strexian chip implanted and can use it, Kyle. Is there anything you need from me?”
“I want some proof you have this map too, just an item transcription will do, we’re not trying to rip you off and steal your map data, but we’d like to know you have it before we get on your ship.”
“Ha. I show you mine, you show me yours? Sounds like it could be fun,” she mused, passing the item transcription over to my UI with a flick of her wrist as if she had been prepared with it this whole time. And maybe she was—maybe it was some kind of test to see if Brandon and I showed initiative.
????? Map Fragment (Archaic - Legendary)
Strexian. Artifact. Relic.
Requires Strexian Lore to read and interpret. Contains a map to an ancient Strexian temple.
Just as I was about to comply with my side of the bargain, my attention was pulled to Gwen and her sudden distress.
She stiffened and lowered her head. Someone new had just walked into the bar, and hushed silence followed him through the entrance like an aura of death. He wore an old, scuffed set of full composite armor adorned with an unbelievable quantity of battle scars and hydraulic servos. The opaque dome visor on his helmet had a primitive skull painted on the surface in chipping white paint. The barrel of a heavy shotgun stuck out above his plated shoulder like an antenna, and a massive gun made of black iron hung at his hip in a sagging leather holster. The man walked to the barkeeper and appeared to start asking questions.
“Who is that guy?” I asked, still appraising his armor and gear. He had the look of a bounty hunter, but he also seemed way too geared for this stage in the game. I hadn’t seen or read about armor like that being used by any players or NPCs, but it looked expensive and powerful.
“We need to leave, now,” she hissed, slapping down a 50-credit piece on our table to pay our tab and add a nice tip. She was out of the booth now, her friend Fen following close behind. Brandon and I were out of the booth a second later, following our two new friends while trying not to draw the attention of the armored man. I stole a quick glance over toward the bar and felt my stomach jump into my throat. The bartender was pointing over in our direction, and the bounty hunter lowered his hand to the miniature cannon resting at his hip.
The layout of Gilson’s Bar wasn't great for slipping out unnoticed, probably by design to reduce unpaid bar tabs. The single entrance guarded by brutish security personnel at the front was the only visible working exit in the establishment with the emergency fire exit to the left riveted shut and covered in uneven graffiti—probably the work of some drunken miscreants wanting to chronicle a grandiose night of surprisingly good drinks.
I quickly evaluated our options of escape, focusing on breaking through the buzz of alcohol flowing through me. There was the second-floor staircase where the prostitutes stood attempting to entice business, and there was the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. In most four-against-one fights with me being on the majority side, I’d like my odds, but Gwen seemed to think differently.
“Gwen, seriously, it's four on one if he tries something. Slow down,” I called, not worrying to quiet my voice as we wove through the rabble of tables toward the staircase in the back of the bar. It seemed she wanted to go upstairs; maybe there was another way out of the building she knew about.
Gwen looked over her shoulder to call back to me. “He's a Sleeper. We don't stand a chance. Keep up or die again.” I knew what a Sleeper was, even if I had never seen one. They were the players playing Eternity Online in a stasis pod. They were destined to be the forerunners of the war for both sides, and they progressed a lot faster than normal players since they lived almost entirely in Eternity Online. If this guy was a Sleeper and he was after us, then the situation could spin out of control.
The armored man was moving in our direction with grim intent. His weapon was unholstered and in his hand. People—patrons and servers alike—moved out of his way as though he had some horrible disease they would contract just from brushing into him. He was nearly on us, only about 10 meters away. “Gwen Delarine, stop!” he roared, his voice amplified through an external speaker system on his helmet.
16
Gwen had no intention of stopping. She broke into a run with Fen, dashing toward the stairs. Having no choice if we wanted in on the job, Brandon and I rushed to follow them. The potential customers who had been discussing rates and services with the prostitutes were scrambling out of Gwen’s way, and the entire bar had taken interest in the spectacle, but no one seemed eager to get involved.
The lizard pimp with the big revolver pulled it out and was now storming toward Gwen while carving an inconsiderate path through the dining space. “Take it outside! Get away from my girlssssss!” he roared, quickly redirecting his anger as Gwen tossed him a 200-credit piece. He flashed metal-plated predatorial teeth, pocketed the cre
dit, and stepped to block the Sleeper’s path as soon as we reached the stairway.
“You, get away! Not another sssssstep,” the pimp yelled at Gwen’s pursuer, raising his oversized revolver and aiming it with grim intent.
When the armored man moved to raise his weapon in retaliation, the usara pimp fired.
Kraaaboom!
Sparks flew as the armored man recoiled from the brutal hit, thrown off balance from the impact. There was a visible dent on his chest plate, a few centimeters in diameter where the projectile struck, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage. The man steadied himself, raising his gun again and sighting on our newly hired protector. “That was a mistake,” he growled, his icy voice grinding like millstones.
Kooomk!
Cold, blue ichor splashed us as most of the usara’s torso disappeared during the thundering boom of the hand cannon. I scraped at my eyes, wiping away sticky gore as we scrambled up the stairs to avoid the armored man.
Kooomk!
His next shot went wide, disintegrating a section of stairs in front of me in an explosion of resin splinters and concrete dust. I adjusted my path, scrambling to avoid tripping in the newly created crater as I ascended.
The deafening cacophony filled the small space and sent customers diving from their chairs to seek cover under their tables and behind chairs. It wouldn't do them much good if one of the oversized ballistic rounds crossed their path. Many of them were scrambling for the over-packed exit which had slowed to a disorganized frenzy of terror.
A few men had drawn their weapons and were firing at the armored man with ballistic and light blaster fire, I was thankful for that, but they wouldn't last for long if the minimal damage from the usara pimp’s revolver was any indication.
Kooomk! Kooomk! Kooomk!
The hunter's weapon blasted out several times from beneath us, slightly muffled as we ascended the stairs. Hollow screams ripped through the panicked sounds of chaos and confirmed my suspicions that all the NPCs here were outclassed by this killing machine. He had to be another player unless Gwen had really done something awful to piss off an over-leveled NPC. Why did I always find myself in situations like this? I should have known something was off the second a beautiful woman offered to buy me drinks and make me rich—it had seemed too good to be true, and now this was happening.
I pushed the thoughts from my head, trying to focus on finding a way to get out of this alive. I wasn’t ready to die again so shortly after my first death in Eternity Online, and if Gwen died, we’d lose our opportunity to venture to this Strexian temple and claim whatever treasures were buried within.
My group cleared the hallway at the top of the stairs, following Gwen deeper into the building. Men and women alike in various stages of undress peeked out from doorways, clinging to the door frames with tight, panicked grasps. Doors slammed and locked as we passed.
“Close the doors and lock them until station police arrive!” Gwen yelled. It wasn't to keep these NPCs alive, it was to buy us time and make the bounty hunter stop to check the rooms if we were lucky.
“You know how to get out of here, right?” Brandon demanded through heavy breathing.
Gwen didn't answer, only kept running with her silent friend. Neither of the women had bothered to take out any weapons to use to fight the bounty hunter, but I did see a flash of the hilt of a sword through the ceremonial robes Fen wore as she glided across the floor with surprising dexterity.
The borrowed blaster pistol in my hands felt flimsy now, and I knew it wouldn’t be enough if this goon caught up with us. I couldn’t even imagine what level he was if he had been playing nearly non-stop since the start of the digital war.
As we rounded another corner, I caught a glimpse of the bounty hunter at the top of the stairs. How had he dealt with all the people who had come to our aid so quickly?
Kooomk!
The hand cannon blast took out a melon-sized hole of concrete and cheap wallpaper where my head had been only milliseconds before, warping the reinforced metal behind it in an explosion of sparks and dust. I had all of my mana available to spend on Mana Shield at a moment’s notice, but had my doubts it would hold up against even one shot from a weapon this powerful. “Why is he after you?” I demanded.
“Shut up and run!” Gwen roared, pressing forward.
Heavy thuds sounded out from behind us as heavy hydraulic boots smashed into the old floorboards. He was gaining on us and didn’t seem to have a problem with killing us to accomplish his mission that seemed to be turning Gwen into a liquified corpse. An idea darted through my mind. If I could hit the bounty hunter with a mana bomb from my Unstable Power spell, I might be able to damage his armor enough to slow him down. The armor looked heavy, and if we could disable its power servos, it could buy us a chance at an escape. After we pick up our gear from Mac, I reminded myself. I wasn’t willing to part with that blaster or EVA suit anytime soon unless there was no other choice.
“Brandon, get ready to tank for me. I’ll hit you with Mana Shield. If we take out the servos on his armor it should really slow him down!” I shouted.
“Got it. Don't let me die!” Brandon said through gritted teeth, kneeling down and shouldering his borrowed shotgun as we waited for the bounty hunter to round the corner.
I took a deep breath, exhaling and letting the mana flow through my hands into a Mana Ball. The bounty hunter’s footfall was getting heavier, and he’d be around the corner at any second. The only problem was that as soon as I channeled the second Mana Ball spell and triggered Unstable Power, I’d only have seconds to throw the volatile bomb and escape its explosion.
The bounty hunter didn’t see it coming, and it seemed he was expecting us to still be running away. That would have been the sensible thing for us to do, after all. As he cleared the corner, still in a full sprint, he realized his mistake but had his weapon raised just as quickly, sighting on Brandon just as I cast my second spell to trigger Unstable Power. As soon as the mana ball shifted from blue to orange, I hurled the condensed ball of pure Strexian energy toward our pursuer with all my might.
Brandon was in immediate danger, so I pulled my focus from the bounty hunter, hitting Brandon with a max-rank Mana Shield. The bounty hunter’s massive weapon thundered, reverberating in the hall and sending pain lancing through my skull. I grimaced as the shot connected with Brandon, feeling a sudden surge of exhaustion as the shield shattered and my mana reserve drained to zero in an instant.
My mana bomb exploded a second later, knocking me off my feet and sending me crashing through a bedroom door, rolling on the floor in a jagged tumble that came to an abrupt stop. The breath exploded from my lungs, and I fought against the exhaustion of losing all my mana at once. My body didn’t want to move, and black dots swam in the corners of my vision.
Groaning, I sucked in a breath, checking my diagnostics and attempting to piece together our situation. Brandon was stumbling toward Gwen and Fen, but I didn’t have eyes on the bounty hunter. My health had only dropped a few points from the knockback, but my hearing was shot. I wasn’t surprised to see the temporary deafness debuff flashing on my interface.
Temporary Deafness I
Exposure to extreme decibels has temporarily deafened you.
-85% hearing.
15% chance for this debuff to transition to Temporary Deafness II when exposed to additional high-decibel sounds.
Duration: 8 minutes.
“Is he dead?” I shouted, trying to get information as I hobbled out of the room and into the hallway, fighting against vertigo to stay on my feet.
Koomk!
The hand cannon’s report was muted this time, but I felt the deep thud in my chest as a projectile sliced the air, only a marginal distance away from my head. Way too close. Ducking, I pinpointed my target through the haze of concrete dust shrouding the destroyed section of hallway. Our pursuer was half-lodged in the wall, stuck between twisted metal and debris. His shooting arm and brutish weapon were free, but he was
struggling to escape the temporary prison.
I was dismayed to see he had only taken around 30% of the armor points encasing his health bar worth of damage from my best and only offensive spell. The volatile explosion hadn’t been enough, and I was almost certain I was going to die—again. The bounty hunter corrected his aim, ready to blast my face off this time. But Brandon intervened, recovering from the first hit he had taken and firing his shotgun.
Brandon’s slug missed, but it was close enough to surprise and disrupt our enemy’s aim enough to keep his next shot from hitting me. I had the feeling this bounty hunter wasn’t used to enemies taking a direct hit from his hand cannon and being whole enough to return fire.
I toggled the selector switch on the side of my blaster to full auto and squeezed down on the trigger, sending a barrage of green blaster bolts lancing down the hallway. Many of them struck our enemy, but it wasn’t enough to break through his heavy armor. The barrel of my blaster glowed bright orange as it overheated from the continuous strain of superheating plasma. The crackling air thickened with burning ozone, gunpowder smoke, and the smell of cheap disinfectant from the brothel rooms. A couple of seconds later I ejected a smoldering, empty charge packed onto the filthy carpet and slammed a new one into my blaster.
“You’re only going to piss him off!” Gwen yelled, doubling back with something in her hand. “This isn’t a fight we win.” She tossed a canister through the air, and it landed only a couple meters away from the bounty hunter who had just pulled himself free from the wall. “Run, you idiots!” I could barely make out Gwen’s words with my damaged hearing, but her message was clear enough.
