by Tao Wong
“Now, Ali, Harry. Tell me, in detail, how pirate raids work. Step by step, as close as you can get it.”
Chapter 2
Interstellar combat, if you disregard cheat scenario abilities like Star Trek teleporters, have to follow certain rules. Firstly, you’ve got to catch your prey. That’s relatively easy to do when the System will give you details at the wave of a hand and the passing of a few Credits. Secondly, if you’re actually looking to board and take the ships or its’ passengers, you need to get your people over. That requires you to either connect your big, lumbering ship to another big, lumbering ship or, and this is definitely the preferred method, send over a smaller, more disposable shuttle. Or shuttles, I guess.
That, of course, makes ambushing them as they arrive the go-to method. The shuttle bays are the obvious chokepoint. Of course, if I know it’s an obvious chokepoint, the Galactics do too. There’s no way we’re going to out-maneuver these old hands if we play it safe. Even if they normally don’t have to deal with foolhardy foes, I’ve got to contend with a level of institutional knowledge. All that means is that we need to get creative.
Luckily, the first rule about space combat plays into our hands here. Both ships need to drop out of hyperspace, slow down till the pair matches velocities, then the shuttles have to make their way over. To ensure the merchant ship we’re on doesn’t randomly open fire and destroy their original ship, the pirates are keeping a good distance from us, forcing the shuttle to make its way across the expanse on its underpowered engines.
“Katherine. We good?” I speak aloud so everyone present can listen in. Crammed as we are in this room, there’s not much to divert people. Better for the volunteers to get some idea of what’s happening than stew in their own thoughts.
“I’m at the bridge with the captain and Pilot,” Katherine says. “They’ve reluctantly agreed to give me access to their sensors. Feed on the way.”
“Got it!” Ali sends to me mentally.
A moment later, a new notification screen appears. This notification screen is set to public, allowing my fellow uninsured a three-dimensional view of space around the merchant ship. The merchant ship is a big, blocky hexagon with a cone tip, rather than the sleek vehicle we’ve come to expect from aerodynamic planes. Galactic technology has become so trusted, there’s no need for windows anymore—beyond leisure requirements—so the bridge is situated in the center of the cone itself. The main thrusters are at the back of the ship, with smaller maneuvering thrusters dotted throughout the ship. While the ship can, and does, fly without the aid of the Pilot, his abilities make everything so much faster and more efficient.
In the distance, the pirate’s ship is menacing, a more ‘‘traditional” and sleek vessel that has more room for thrusters and shielding than our blocky merchant cruiser. The front of the pirate ship contains the mounts for their beam weaponry as well as extra armoring and shielding. Not that our merchant vessel stands a chance in a stand-up fight. A fast-moving blip crosses the distance between us.
“So you’re certain they won’t blow up the ship if they lose a lot of their men?” I mutter to Harry as Ali focuses on adding more data to the screen.
“Likely not. Pirates exist on a calculus of cost and nuisance. They’re a nuisance to interstellar trading, but so long as they aren’t too costly, no one will throw out a large Quest to rid the galaxy of them. Destroying interstellar ships automatically puts them in the ‘too costly to live’ column, and the Merchants Alliance will put up a Quest,” Harry reassures me softly. “It’s a fascinating facet of Galactic society. The articles on this are really interesting reading. I bet that given time, crime on Earth will look very much like this.”
“What, you mean it doesn’t already?” I say with a snort. “Pretty sure some of the gangs in the USA, the Yakuza, and a bunch of local warlords in the Middle East have figured that one out already.”
“True,” Harry says, his fingers wiggling as if he’s typing on an unseen keyboard. “I’ll have to add that to the article. I wonder if there’s a Class that could calculate exactly how much—”
With a slight roll of my eyes, I shift my gaze to the giant notification screen. Already I see lights popping up all over our now-wireframe ship as Ali adds known positions for all our people. Katherine, Peter, and a quarter of our fighting personnel are in the bridge, there to protect and safeguard the ambassador.
As I said, space fights like this have certain rules, if you exclude teleportation. Thankfully, most Class Skills that allow teleportation of some form, like my Blink Step or Portal ability, also have limitations. Most of which come down to knowing where you are teleporting to. There are, as I understand it, rare Skills and spells that let you teleport or Portal into unseen, unknown locations, but they come with a significant Mana cost and even larger risks. Since most merchant ships have anti-scrying wards built into them, it’s hard to get a good look at where you’re teleporting to. Add in the illusionists and other Classes whose entire grab bags include tricking people, and teleporting becomes a lot trickier. Teleporting into solid objects is generally fatal—to the teleportee, the teleporter, and everyone nearby. Still, if there’s a time and place for a Skill like that, pirating other ships in space seems to fit the bill. Which is why Katherine and Peter have guards.
“We have any updates on the shuttle?” I say, eyeing the rapidly approaching dot.
“Nothing yet,” Katherine says. “The sensors on this ship are less than stellar.”
“Okay,” I say.
I turn to look at Harry, who shakes his head. He isn’t reading my mind of course. It’s just that I’ve asked him before if he can purchase information about the shuttle occupants from the Shop. Unfortunately, his Skill has certain limitations—and details like that isn’t considered “background” knowledge. It doesn’t help that he’s directly involved now, putting further limits on his Skills.
“Can we go over the plan again?” a hesitant voice, filled with a lot of sibilant hisses, asks. The speaker is speaking in Galactic, a language whose base is draconic but modified for humanoid voices and mixed with the various languages of the elder races. Unsurprisingly, every single human downloaded that language from the Shop before we left.
The volunteers are a mixed bunch, a large percentage of them coming from the human guards that are part of the diplomatic team. The rest are a mixture of Adventurers who were too poor or too stubborn to pay for proper insurance, individuals looking for some mayhem, and a few merchant guards. The actual merchants themselves are, of course, covered. The Adventurers are a wide range of races—everything from your standard fantasy fare to a half-cyborg creature that rolls around on wheels, a floating blob of green jello with tentacles, and something that looks like a cross between a cockroach and a slug.
“Simple enough. If there’s only one Master Class in that shuttle, we hit them hard and roll them over. That’s unlikely to happen. More likely there’s at least two of them in there, potentially all three. In that case, we’re going to beat them in detail.” When the various human and non-human Adventurers stare at me, I shrug. “More details to arrive when we get more information. But Mikito has you split into various teams. When the Portal opens, you just need to go through on your turn and blast anything that isn’t on our side.”
There are a lot of uncomfortable looks at my words, but considering this entire group is a slapdash affair, more complicated plans are as likely to cause mayhem as anything. The American military have a saying—Keep It Simple Stupid (KISS), and frankly, my experience has been that that works. Then again, I’m no Rommel. I’ve just picked up a few things in my time.
“Remember what your roles are in your teams and concentrate on that. You’ve got your team leaders. They’ll highlight your targets. Team leaders should know who to take out first, but Master Classes need to be contained while you take down the small fry,” I say. “Beyond that, I’ll be focusing on the Masters as much as possible, along with Mikito.”
The bodyguar
ds look relieved, the aliens a little more inscrutable. But I know, from what Peter said, the only reason they’re agreeing to this is because I’m here. Otherwise, even serfdom is generally better than death.
“John, we have twenty-three and a half life-signs on the shuttle,” Katherine’s voice cuts in before I can dig the hole any deeper.
“A half?”
“Hold on. I’m getting clarification. Yes, Peter? Draugr? That’s… well, okay.” Katherine pauses before she speaks again. “John? Can you ask Ali?”
“Ali?”
“You need me now?” Ali says, shooting a look at Harry before smirking. But he doesn’t hesitate long. “Draugr. Remember the little Richard problem we had? Yeah well, Draugr are another damn attempt to get around death.” Behind the Spirit, a number of the Galactic Adventurers nod and twitch, confirming the Spirit’s words. “They have a unique Class that makes them impervious to pain, have a visible level of regeneration, resistances against physical and magical attacks, and close combat Mana striking abilities.”
“Sounds like great soldiers.” Harry’s lips compress as his eyes focus on a spot a few feet from his face.
“Sure, if you like your soldiers psychopathic, prone to violent outbursts, and cannibalistic,” Ali says.
“Anything else we can get from the sensors?” I question Katherine.
You would think that shipboard sensors wouldn’t be able to gather data like Classes and you’d be right—if we were talking normal science. But there’s nothing normal about physics since the System came into play, especially not when Class Skills are in the equation. And the merchant ship, while not having the specialized roles of Sensor Technicians and their ilk like a warship might have, does have a captain and a helmsmen.
“One second.” A tense moment later—one that has the shuttle slide within a few inches of our ship on the screen—and Katherine’s speaking. “They’re going for docking bay four. And we have confirmation that all three Master Classes are on board. One is showing extremely high Mana density in their body. The other two are registering average and low levels.”
“Mage of some form then. And fighters,” I say. “Thanks. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
“Of course,” Katherine says. “Out.”
I fall silent, staring at the shuttle as it approaches and merges with our ship. There’s no sensation, no thunk or shift in the ship as the shuttle connects with the docking bay. The only real change is that Ali throws up a new screen, one showing the inside of the docking bay. Surprisingly, rather than the door cycling open like I’d expect, we get something coming right through the still-closed door. A ghostly crawling octopod exits the docking bay doors and surveys the surroundings. In moments, the ghost octopod is joined by another pair. The trio of ghosts split up and head down different exits.
“Sensor ghosts,” Ali explains. “They’re controlled by one of the Advanced Classes in there. Most of their kind have little in combat ability, but they’re rather hard to deal with without using magic. Mana-based attacks are the most effective.”
The docking bay doors finally cycle apart, both inner and outer hatches sliding open with a hiss that only happens in my head. While Force Shields are used as secondary and emergency stops, they’re unreliable under high-stress situations. Better to rely on actual, high-tension metal alloys for everyday use. The pirates pour out of the docking bay in waves, a quartet moving forward to set up mobile portable force shields as a reinforced strongpoint. Behind them, five more take station, watching over the room with beam rifles, wands, and bare hands. When they are certain things are clear, the remainder of the pirates swagger out. Immediately, Ali populates their Status information for everyone, even adding helpful little bracketed letters to indicate the Class stages. After all, with the sheer variety of Galactic Classes, it’s impossible for me to know all of their relative stages at a glance.
My eyes are drawn to the trio that come out near the front, idly strolling forward with an air of supreme confidence. I don’t even need the little M after their Classes to know they’re the Master Classes. The sizes of their health and Mana bars are sufficient. The first to catch my eye is a round, tubby, furred creature with stubby hands and legs and beady little eyes.
Muk Muk, Shaper of Kumak, Winner of the Three hundredth and eight Suar, … (Woven Shapeshifter Level 14) (M)
HP: 4290/4290
MP: 1030/1030
Conditions: Altered Shape, Elastic Skin, Muscular Reconstruction
“He’s a shapeshifter and he chose to look like that?” I say, shaking my head.
A quick review of the information Ali populates gives me a rough idea of what I’m dealing with. Melee fighter with the ability to shift forms to play tank or damage dealer, depending on the situation. His Skills buff either form, though unlike a specialized tank or damage dealer, he’s not as good.
“He might be specialized for space combat, boy-o,” Ali says. “So lots more tanking and damage dealing ability and fewer forms, especially big ass, pants-wetting ones.”
“Right,” I say, shifting my gaze to the next form and nearly missing him.
Klimaras, (Mercenary Commando Level 8) (M)
HP: 3100/3100
MP: 2783/3090
Conditions: Blind Spot, Sense Weakness, Shadow Friend, Force Shield
Stealth damage dealer. Pretty much an assassin rogue. The fact that the humanoid carries a series of knobbly rods is interesting. Also, even standing still, Klimaras seems to fade into the background, which speaks of some impressive stealth skills. And probably a few Skills thrown in on top of that. Keeping track of him will be important. Either block his first attack or die kind of thing.
The last figure is the most interesting. At first, I mistake the robotic body it manipulates—a bulbous monstrosity with a pair of rotating guns and liquid metal stalks for feet and arms—as the creature. But on closer inspection, I see a hand-sized humanoid sitting inside a clear-glass cockpit that bobs around inside a volume of gel, moving his hands in time to the movement of the robot. Pink hair, a pair of hands, and a single fin make up the Master Classer in the robot.
Yidma, Overgeared (Artifact Tinkerer Level 23) (M)
HP: 430/430
MP: 2893/3820
Conditions: Shielded, Armed and Armored, Artifact Connection * 7
“What’s it doing?” I frown, staring as the robot works on setting up something on the floor.
The pirates don’t look to be in any particular hurry, standing around and eyeing the doors leading to the docking bay while their sensor ghosts scout out the surroundings.
“Teleportation pad. Probably keyed to artifacts on the boarding team.” This voice is squeaky and low.
I look sideways to stare at the Pooskeen Adventurer who answered me. I almost glare at him before I rein in my irritation. Just because his race tried to kill me doesn’t mean he’s going to. Or at least, I try to tell myself that.
“Tinkerers are more support Classes, replicating Spells and Skills via their gear,” the Pooskeen says.
I offer my nod of thanks while turning my attention to the last pirate of interest.
Draugr U-129, Doom of the Waza, Cannibal (Advanced Draugr Level 18) (A)
HP: 3110/3110
MP: 150/150
Conditions: Draugr, Envenomed Claws, Paralyzing Bite, Undead Resistance
“Pretty damn low Mana,” I say.
“The Draugr’s condition uses a lot of Mana, reducing their total Mana Pool. It also affects their regeneration significantly,” Ali says.
“Tough looking son of a bitch,” Harry says, staring at the Draugr.
The creature is crouched, chewing on a piece of meat whose origin I don’t want to consider. The creature is humanoid, with clawed fingers that are disproportionately long, hips that sit way too high on the body, and a grey-scaled, flaking body. The Draugr has no armor, clothing, or weapons, though the fanged teeth and claws are weapon enough.
After that, I let my eyes dance over
the rest of the pirate crew, taking in details. A lot of individuals with beam weaponry, though almost all of them carry melee weapons of one form or another. Very few dedicated spellcasters, and of those, most are healers. A quick explanation by Ali reminds me to watch my own spells. No one wants to be shot out into space because some idiot spellcaster forgot to tone down his fireball.
With the information turning over in my mind, I settle on a plan as the nervous lizard-creature speaks up again. “Are we going to attack them? What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to wait. Mostly,” I say. “Katherine, send out team four and two. Put yourself on an intercept course with those sensor ghosts. I want them destroyed.”
“Roger.”
“Got it, John.”
I watch as the teams head out, the dots on the wireframe shifting as Ali does his best to keep track of the sensor ghosts and our people. Thankfully, my Level increases have pushed up the little Spirit’s ability to wield a much greater influence on the System. And, when things become necessary, he can enlarge his body and materialize to kick some ass. Surprisingly, the Spirit has gone back to staying in his smaller form for the most part, seeming to prefer being tiny, semi-translucent, and invisible to most.
“They’re splitting up.” Mikito says, bringing my attention back to the docking bay screen.
As she said, the three Master Classes are splitting up. Two groups leave, led by one Master Class each, in the direction of the cockpit and engines. The Tinkerer stays behind, working diligently to set up more fortifications and defenses, including a pair of large turrets.
Tinkerer-Modified Limi Flame Throwers
They’re modified flame throwers, boy-o, supported as much by the Tinkerer’s Skills as they are by actual working technology. Damage is going to be extremely high, so try not to get burnt.
Damage: ??/??
Rate of Fire: ??/??
