by Tao Wong
Surprisingly, the Master Class Commando didn’t make an appearance until the very end, when the pirates decided to call it a day. Rather than fight and destroy even more of the ship, we called a truce while I escorted the Shapeshifter back to the loading docks. From the cold looks the pair of surviving Master Class pirates shared as they exited through the docking doors, I had a feeling they’d have words on their ship.
“Tough or not, you tore up three floors and had a running battle through another floor. We had to delay for an entire day while my men patched the holes in the hull!” the captain complains. “Why, I should charge you for the damages.”
“And double dip? I’m sure your insurance will pay for it. And if you try to come after me, I’ll make sure everyone knows the kind of person you are. I wonder how many more passengers you’ll get if they know you won’t honor even the basic customs of the Galactic sphere?”
The captain’s lips press thin before he stomps off. I chuckle softly, watching the merman flop away, before I turn to Katherine and Peter, who have been standing quietly to the side.
“Are you okay?” Katherine asks, her eyes roving over my body.
I’d taken the time to change clothing, so outside of some soot and blood, I look the same as always. Mass purchasing for the win!
“Fine.” I grin. “Don’t even have to regrow any limbs this time.”
Katherine cocks an eyebrow. “We saw some of your battle with the Shapeshifter. When the cameras lasted at least. It looked violent.”
“Eh, it wasn’t so bad. He was a tad too fast to get a proper hit on in his agile form, but he was bouncing around too much to get in any real hits on me. Tore up my stuff real good, but it looked bloodier than it was dangerous.”
“Those spinning swords of yours are rather interesting. Though they hampered your movements too,” Peter says, pointing out one issue with my Thousand Blades Skill.
Once created, the swords follow the path of the original, but because I have a tendency to summon and unsummon the original sword, trajectories can get strange. While Intelligence increases don’t necessarily translate to a “smarter” person in the way we think it should, the System seems to pick up on what we’ve done before and grow our abilities in that direction. Mostly. In my case, one of the side effects of my high Intelligence is the ability to recognize, understand, and manipulate the angles of my trailing swords. It still requires practice to do it consistently, since knowing and doing are two different things. Even so, there’s no way I could fight the way I do without the Intelligence increases I’ve had.
It also comes in real handy when playing pool.
“Always a negative with Skills. You just have to figure them out,” I say. “Though, I’ll admit, most are easy. Too high Mana cost.” I look directly at Peter, who grimaces, probably recalling his own ultimate ability, Diplomatic Immunity. Like my Sanctum, it protects against all attacks, but unlike mine, it only works on sentients. “Or a high level of side effects.”
“Well, in either case, the pirates have left. I doubt we’ll face another. It’s bad form to attack a merchant ship more than once on a route. Never mind how unlucky we were to get hit anyway,” Katherine says.
“You know, sometimes the Galactic System reminds me more of a third-world country than a developed nation.” When I get puzzled looks back, I explain. “More corruption, more accepted corruption, than in Canada or the US. Well, surface-level corruption. I mean, pirates? Sects that run roughshod over everyone? And of course, the various empires that fight each other.”
“It’s because of all the empires and other interest groups vying with each other that pirates and their kind exist,” Peter says, correcting me. “A good portion of those pirates are privateers in actual fact. Ships are forced to purchase insurance from multiple kingdoms if they decide to traverse between different principalities, increasing their costs and greasing even more palms. Those that refuse to do so… well, they might find their names discreetly handed over to a privateer. And it goes on, from criminal organizations to sects to corporations and even Guilds. If there’s a way to game the System for their own good, sentients will find it.”
I nod slowly. It’s similar, I guess, to what I’ve been reading. As much as Galactic Society has accepted the fact that the System controls, well, everything, they also push its boundaries all the time. Guilds are meant to be non-political, non-aligned. It’s why they’re allowed to own land in multiple locations without being the actual settlement or land owner. Unlike, say, a kingdom, whose access and ownership of such a location would automatically make it part of their kingdom. To skip around that, they have to rely on individual ownership, which is a dangerous exploit. But there’s nothing to stop a Guild from being staffed with people aligned with one empire or kingdom. And so, rules are bent. Or the way monarchies and their noble classes form, because that way, lines of fealty can be created which both work within the System and also bend its rules.
Speaking of kingdom-owned locations… “Did you work out how setting up the diplomatic mission is going to work?”
“Of course.” Katherine sniffs. “Some of us read our correspondence.”
“You’re not still bitter about that, are you?” I grin. I admit, I had a tendency to avoid reading most of my mail after Katherine hired herself as my secretary. I only ever bothered to read items she highlighted as important and urgent.
Katherine scowls at me before relenting with a wave. “No. It was the right decision actually. Your skills were better used elsewhere.”
“So. The mission?”
“Is relatively simple on the surface,” Peter says. “We arrive at the Prax Solar System, dock at the main station, and transfer down to Irvina using the visas provided to us. Once we’ve provided the visas at the station, our diplomatic status is registered with the Galactic Council. We then have six months to locate a permanent residence in Irvina to set up the mission itself.”
“And you’re able to buy land for Earth?” I say, cocking my head to the side.
“Yes. Unfortunately, the city is huge and the locations we can purchase are limited, so we expect there to be significant issues,” Peter says. “Once we arrive, Katherine will focus on finding us a long-term location while I reach out to our erstwhile allies for help.”
“The Truinnar should be able to help with that, right?” I say.
“You would think so,” Katherine says with a sniff. “But we’re a small ally to them. Even if we’ve managed to do something no other Dungeon World has done, all it means in the Galactic sense is that they’ve got another vote. And a better deal for coming to Earth. For all that, they aren’t bending over backward to help us. At least not on the Empire level. There’s some hope with the Duchess, but we’ll have to see about that in person.”
I nod in acceptance of her words and figure they’ve got it mostly covered. I then take my leave before they drag me in any further. I’ve made my desire to leave, once we actually arrive at Irvina, clear. As Harry noted, Mikito and I have generated quite a bit of animosity with our actions. Being part of the official diplomatic mission would only cause trouble for them. As best as we can, I’d prefer for us to disassociate with the mission and Earth itself as much as possible.
Of course, that’s harder than it seems because Mikito and I are backup security for the mission for now. While Katherine has her own security team, none of them are Master Classes. With the chaos happening on Earth after Bipasha’s assassination, we need the few Master Classes we do have there. Until the Secret Service and their ilk Level up enough, Mikito and I are the closest things to heavy-hitters Katherine has to call upon. So we’re going in under their diplomatic visas, no matter how much I’d prefer not to.
Not that I have much choice anyway. Irvina—and the whole planet of Prax—is a restricted area. Entering their solar system, never mind the capital itself, is heavily restricted due to the sheer number of interested parties. The only other way to do so is with sufficient Galactic Reputation. And
for myself, well…
Galactic Reputation: 2
Galactic Fame: 2,308
That Galactic Fame number might seem high, but it mostly all comes from Earth. It’s the sum total of the average fame level I have on Earth in each region, so while it looks high, it’s only on the level of say, an international boy band before the System. Known enough by name, but damned if you could tell the difference between each singer. On a Galactic scale, I’m nothing.
As for my reputation, well, it’s even more pitiful. While I made and completed a ton of deals during the run-up to the vote, when Bipasha was killed and the damn Senator refused to honor some of those deals, I lost a lot of reputation too. That Rob then proceeded to negotiate deals directly with the affected parties to pacify them gave me a new, unpleasant, and personal view of politics.
In any case, even with all that garbage, Galactic Reputation is difficult to generate. Moving the needle on the Galactic level requires a significant level of fame, positions, and deals.
Funnily enough, Mikito’s numbers are much better.
Mikito Sato, Spear of Humanity, Blood Warden (Middle Samurai Level 46)
HP: 1990/1990
MP: 1400/1400
Conditions: Isoide, Jin, Rei, Meiyo, Ishiki, Ryoyo
Galactic Reputation: 8
Galactic Fame: 7,783
No surprise her fame is higher than mine. For one thing, she didn’t spend four years stuck in a hellhole of a Forbidden Zone. Even if that act itself is particularly impressive, it’s not particularly useful for increasing my Fame, and since I’m not out for glory, I’ve not been highlighting my little jaunt. Mikito, in my four-year absence, ran around the world doing good deeds, killing monsters, and clearing dungeons galore. Add the fact that she’s managed to gain some Fame in the Galactic Arenas and it’s no surprise she’s ticking higher than I am. Furthermore, without a bunch of bad deals pulling her down, her Reputation is pretty good too. For a newcomer Galactic at least.
“Why are you staring at me?” Mikito asks suspiciously.
“I’m not…” I pause then shake my head. “I’m looking at your Status. You picked up quite a few Levels since I got back.”
Mikito grins. “You’re not the only one who can cheat.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Depends. Are you interested in entering the Arena again?”
“Ah,” I say, shaking my head.
Of course. The experience and gold tithe. And now that the lady is tapping into a Galactic audience, her numbers are creeping up. Add in the numerous dungeons we’ve cleared and the battles we’ve fought for the vote, and well…
Not to be dissuaded, Mikito presses on. “Why were you checking out my Status?”
“Just thinking about our arrival. If we use our visas, we can get in. But that ties us to Earth.”
“We have another option?” Mikito says.
“Not that I can think of.”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
I grunt and head back to my room. She’s right, but I can’t help but think that there’s got to be a better way. Or that opening up Earth to our problems is just asking for trouble.
Days later, the merchant ship finally exits hyperspace and begins the long trip through mundane space to the planet Prax. Technically, we’re actually going to Prax III, the largest and main space station that guards the planet’s orbit. The station is so large, it could be considered a minor moon. Of course, Prax III isn’t the only space station, with smaller stations set up equidistant in the pole positions around the planet. But Prax III is where entrance to Irvina is determined.
Prax III is constructed as a series of interconnected spokes around a cylindrical structure. Ships of differing sizes are housed along each spoke, docking at the stations and off-loading cargo and personnel as necessary. At the largest end are some of the in-system cargo ships, a couple of kilometers in length, while smaller, nimbler personal craft docks closer to the spokes.
As a mid-sized cargo vessel, we dock about a third of the way up one spoke. The rest of the passengers are requested to unload first, so us humans have a nice view of the cargo vessel unloading. Not surprisingly, the vast majority of the work is completed via robots, mostly controlled by a few Technomancer and Loader Classes. It’s a beautiful ballet of movement, with multiple loader arms crawling across the hull of the ship. Unfortunately, what gets moved out are mostly containers, so I find myself bored with the process in minutes.
“What are they off-loading anyway?” I ask Katherine.
“The usual—monster drops, some of the higher-ranked crafted items from Earth, and some of the local delicacies. You probably know that one.” Katherine points at a container that looks like every other. Seeing my puzzled look, the woman smirks. “Yukon gold.”
“Ah, the beer!” I smile. One of my better investments actually.
For that matter, I take a moment to access my notification screens and check out my holdings. While I gave up the settlements, I still have a number of holdings in my name. Of course, most of them are under a management contract with Lana’s investment company in the Yukon, but the random burnt-out buildings, residences, and stores that I purchased to have a good night’s sleep in while traveling amount to a small fortune. Especially now that the towns and cities they’re in aren’t complete wrecks. Well, most of them.
I flick through the long, long list before I locate the information about the Yukon brewing company. As a direct shareholder and as a shareholder of the investment company, I have pretty much full access to their financials. My eyes widen when I see the details.
“How much?” I choke out in bewilderment when I see the gross revenue numbers.
“You finally bothered to check your holdings?” Katherine says with a slight smirk.
“The company’s grown a little,” I say weakly.
“A little. They are really quite thankful you’ve been willing to forego any return on your investments to allow them to continue investing in their production capacity. It seems that the ‘Dungeon World Brew’ has gained quite a following in Galactic markets,” Katherine says teasingly.
“Right. I did say that, didn’t I?” Explains why I’ve never seen a single Credit from that investment.
Hyper intelligence pulls the memory from my mind, a conversation held years ago, when I first gave the money to Lana. I told her to invest any returns, to build up the economy of Whitehorse, to give people jobs and a purpose when they had lost everything. So many years ago that I forgot all about it. It didn’t seem to matter when we were fighting, and then… well. Forbidden Zone. After that, I had another big fight and the vote and it was just never something I thought about.
I guess that makes me a bad Chinese, not caring about Credits at all. My father is probably turning in his grave over the careless way I’ve treated funds. But somewhere along the way, between the apocalypse and the trail of bodies I’ve left behind, material goods have become insignificant. Illusionary even.
A small part of me, a guilty part, wonders if it’s an unconscious way to punish myself. To serve penance. For all the innocents, all the lives, I could never save. For all the ills, all the destruction I failed to stop. A blade will kill a monster, but it cannot heal an injury. My blade could not give solace to those who survived or give direction to their broken lives.
“John?” Katherine’s voice interrupts my gloomy musings.
“Sorry.” I stare at the holding information for a second more before dismissing it. Not much use to me now. Not as if I can contact them to make any changes at the moment, and I don’t really want to. If I die—no, when I die—at least some good will have come of my existence.
So.
What is, is.
“Looks like it’s our turn,” Peter interrupts my musings.
I offer the man a tight smile. Right. Onward and upward.
Are all Customs checkpoints the same? The same individual barriers, the same stern-faced officials who stare at you and their screen
s, acting as though they can see all your deepest, darkest, most perverted dreams? Sure, the Galactic Customs at Prax has the novelty of Galactics manning the station—meaning that there are numerous alien and fantasy races—but the set up itself is the same.
“John Lee. Redeemer of the Dead. Correct?” the Customs official says.
Staring at the giant, green, bug-eyed creature, I can see myself reflected hundreds of times in its compound eyes. That it can make even marginally understandable sounds from those mandibles is astounding. “Yes.”
“You are attempting to enter Irvina via a secondary diplomatic visa issued to the newly created seat for Earth, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. You understand the limitations and expectations of your visa?” Bug-eye says.
“Not exactly.”
“Then I recommend you read them in detail. However, in short, you are not allowed to vote in local elections. You only have non-citizen rights which means no access to local counsel, legal, and welfare services. You may only access the local dungeons after registering with an appropriate Adventurers Guild and receiving the necessary clearance. Doing so will require you to pay an initial access fee, then a portion of all your earnings will be taxed on the non-citizen tax rate. Breaches of the law will be charged under the secondary provisions for non-citizens, and felony charges will, at the minimum, see the banishment of offenders from Prax system.”
I nod. One of the things that was required for us taking the ship at all was a download of all applicable Galactic and Irvina laws. In truth, once I’d paid for and downloaded the information, I’d felt extremely cheated. Galactic law is somewhat simplistic.
There’s not a lot of it, since issues like public littering, graffiti, and defacement are non-issues due to the System dealing with those minor inconveniences. As for property ownership and retail, well, it’s basically caveat emptor. A lot of the truly scummy predators are kept in check via the Reputation system. So while there’s significant pressure to get the best deal possible, the products themselves are often sold truthfully. Just, perhaps, with a few issues that aren’t mentioned.
