“Captain, they’re talking about us!” Tini flipped the big screen to local news.
The journalist – a cute black kitty with a mask of light hair on her face wearing nothing but ultra-short shorts – was interviewing a clearly embarrassed middle-aged Miyelonian in a constantly shifting chameleon suit.
Gerd Undi Ar Miyeyauu. Miyelonian Female. Pride of the Sweet Voice. Level-148 Journalist.
Kars Un Dit. Miyelonian. Pride of the Bushy Shadow Level-113 Saboteur.
They really were talking about us, me to be more precise. The saboteur replied to the Journalist that the Tolili-Ukh X frigate was stationed in a blocked area, and the humans would have nowhere to hide. And that it could all be ended with one decisive attack, because Leng Gnat had extremely few crew members. However, “boss man” Gerd Abi Pan-Miay had asked them to wait for him – the leader of the Pride of the Bushy Shadow had lots of pent up grievances for their insolent opponent, and he wanted to tell me them in person. “Big Abi” and a crew of hardened killers were already on their way to the station so, in somewhere around an ummi, I could expect activity and reports from the scene. For now I just had to stay patient and wait.
Mental Fortitude skill increased to level ninety-nine!
I could tell the Saboteur was lying even without the pop-up system message. It wasn’t like I was some trained physiognomist of the Miyelonian race, it was just that this old fighter was a very poor actor. And the Miyelonian wasn’t lying that Big Abi was rushing to the Kasti-Utsh III station with a gang of killers either – that part actually seemed like the truth. But he was lying when he said, “until the pride leader gets here, we will just stay patient and wait.” The Saboteur was clearly saying that because he hoped Leng Gnat and his team would see the interview and let their guard down. Looks like our opponent was scheming and trying to get the element of surprise.
And there was another aspect of the old Miyelonian’s words that drew my attention. He said it would be “one ummi” until Abi got here, but that was too short for a flight from the Medu-Ro IV pirate station where the Pride of the Bushy Shadow had their main base. However, it lined up very well with the flight time from the C9004/AW system, the one with a black hole. Merely a coincidence? Or did Big Abi go to check up on his stash spot? If he did, it was easy to comprehend. The pirate leader really had overextended a bit recently – he lost the contents of his treasure cache on Medu-Ro IV, then his main starship to boot. So anything was possible. I wondered whether Gerd Abi Pan-Miay could find what he was looking for in the tail of that comet without the piece of plastic giving its precise coordinates.
On screen, the interview was ongoing and the tailed Journalist’s next question made me perk up my ears:
“ So Kars Un-Dit, you say victory is assured and that you could take down your opponent with one decisive pounce at any time, because Leng Gnat has very few fighters. But then how do you explain the fact that the Pride of Agile Paw – the clan that controls the Kasti-Utsh III betting office – recently dramatically changed the odds on your war? For our viewers out there, not long ago they were accepting bets at eleven to one point zero seven, meaning they had no doubt the Pride of the Bushy Shadow would emerge victorious. But now odds are in favor of the human, at one point two to seven. And that number just keeps growing!”
Fame increased to 78.
Authority increased to 65!
In response, the Saboteur started burbling something disconnected about gambling being an inherently risky endeavor, but he should have just kept quiet – then he might not have started looking so pale. Now even the most unsophisticated viewer could clearly see this fighter didn’t know what happened, and had a weak grasp on the situation overall.
“Captain, I actually want to know that,” my ward Tini piped up. “Why is the Pride of the Agile Paw so convinced we’ll win all of a sudden?”
I kept quiet, not especially wanting to comment. I said nothing about my close connection with the head of the Pride of the Agile Paw, although I did value the useful acquaintance highly. Even my crew didn’t know that a few Team Gnat fighters took part in that pride’s robbery of the pirate treasure vault. And now I had to admit that the Pride of the Agile Paw’s presence here on Kasti-Utsh III came as a pleasant surprise to me because it gave me hope we could work together to both of our benefits. Yes, the Pride of the Agile Paw was behind betting operations on the station, but could they maybe also help me sell off a bit of platinum? After all, they recently got into the precious metal trade!
However, I have to admit I was having serious difficulties selling the twelve seven-hundred-pound containers of platinum sponge – local traders were stubbornly ignoring all positions I put up in the trade system. Without my business partner, professional Trader Uline Tar, I had to take a deep dive into the settings of the trade system on my own. But it was not all that easy. And I must have done something wrong, because even at prices one third lower than market value, my wares garnered absolutely no interest. Or perhaps they were simply not visible in the system.
However, if I could sell the shipment of platinum, even at a steep discount, I’d end up with fourteen or fifteen million Geckho monetary crystals or just over two million crypto, which would immediately solve a boatload of problems! The most obvious application for the cash was hiring hundreds of experienced mercenaries for a one-time strong-arm operation. Then in one day, all that would remain of the Pride of the Bushy Shadow on this station would be memories!
But I still hadn’t answered Tini’s question, so Gerd Ayni instead gave a plausible explanation for the abrupt change in the odds:
“The Pride of the Agile Paw is very shrewd. They’re professional swindlers and they have informants everywhere. They must have dug up something about us. For example, maybe they noticed that we hired a Programmer to set up combat robots.”
Everyone fell silent and simultaneously turned their heads to the monitor, which was transmitting from a security camera in the cargo hold. There was a small eight-legged Meleyephatian there reflashing the software for the TT-67A Immolator plasma turrets.
Wizzz 889. Meleyephatian. Renegade Nest 56. Level-63 Programmer.
The Meleyephatian was wearing nothing but a red bandanna, hiding some of his many eyes for some reason and a wide toolbelt around his abdomen. It was going to be a difficult job – the Immolators were self-teaching robots, and loyalty to a master was hardwired into their code. But Wizzz was very familiar with their system architecture and, operating with four, six and at times all eight of his appendages, he was performing a number of operations at once: replacing the memory block, wiping something and reprogramming something else, all while restoring and updating combat programs.
But the Programmer was not very precise, carelessly throwing tablets of programming utilities, nuclear batteries with bundles of cable, crystal drives and memory blocks all over the metal floor of the cargo hold. Wizzz was also constantly chewing something – some kind of tonic or perhaps narcotic grass, and his dark spit was dribbling onto the floor and nearby items. And all the while, the Meleyephatian was talking to himself, arguing and even cursing. I got intrigued and asked Ayni to translate what the Programmer was saying. It turned out to be a string of curse words mixed together with professional terms like:
“...this isn’t the right coding, you asshat... Ah, I’m an idiot. This is version 0.91 and it uses a patch from the Trillians... look at the hardware, dumbass, this is a jailbroken version off the black market... oh rip out all sixteen of your eyes, numbnuts. The version number on the memory block is 0.93... don’t you see, there’s no signal in the blue wire... you should have your arms torn out, moron! ... so, what if we attach the battery?! ... retard, delete the loyalty file quick, otherwise this Immolator will put us all in the grave...”
At a certain point, the Meleyephatian even smacked his head too hard with a jointed arm, then he spent a long time apologizing to himself. I have to admit, that took me aback somewhat. However I never made any remarks to the hired sp
ecialist – let him work as best he knows how, just as long as the difficult and risky task got done as quickly as possible. After all, we might need the combat robots soon to deflect a pirate attack.
When a Meleyephatian responded to the urgent work request for a programmer, I was dumbstruck. I had never had close contact with one of their kind, which looked like giant spiders. I also had a bias against the Meleyephatians – in some way or another, their Horde was threatening my native Earth. But Wizzz, despite all his behavioral quirks, ended up making quite a positive impression on me. Furthermore, he really did understand how to program complicated technology – the Meleyephatian had the documents and certificates to prove it. I also ran a quick mental scan on the Programmer and that confirmed a high level of expertise. By the way, Wizzz also helped Gerd Ayni extract data from the registration service terminal and send it to the computers in the frigate hangar. Things that seriously challenged our tailed Translator were solved by the Programmer in just ten seconds.
I was also struck by the fact that none of the Geckho or Miyelonians in my crew felt any hostility toward Wizzz, even though their races were locked in a brutal space war. Was it maybe because he was a renegade? By the way, who were these Meleyephatian “renegades?” I started looking up the information in my guide, but Ayukh saved me some time and gave a detailed retelling:
“Groups of Meleyephatians who do not share the militaristic and predatory ideals of the Horde. Renegades are far in the minority and try to distance themselves from Meleyephatian society. Still, they are not exterminated or banished – in the Meleyephatian worldview, war between members of their race is simply inconceivable. They just separate themselves and are ignored. As soon as a critical mass is reached and those disaffected with the ‘central line of the horde’ form a large enough group, the renegades form their own ‘nest’ with its own leaders and principles, but continue to live on the very same planets and stations as members of the mainstream Meleyephatian horde. In case of external threat, renegades will defend their home no less fervently than other Meleyephatians but, in all other circumstances, they are peaceful and do not take part in combat.”
I see. That means this Meleyephatian is not an enemy of humanity and is not a threat to Earth. I relaxed somewhat and turned back to the security cameras. Our opponents were clearly up to something and I had to figure out what. I wasn’t especially afraid of a direct attack down the corridor from the station. Even if the Pride of the Bushy Shadow threw all their forces into the attack, in the long wide corridor my Small Relict Guard Drone could cut down all fifty players in a matter of minutes. As soon as they got past the metal barrier and inside its range, goodnight. And then they would know about my deadly flying guardian and probably think up some way around it. But for now the ancient drone was the ace up my sleeve.
The ventilation? Maintenance shafts in the corridors? When I took part in an assault with Miyelonians, the bulk of the attackers crawled in via empty spaces above the main corridor. Now it was seemingly going to be something similar... except this time they would be sneaking into hangar 11-766, which contained a Trillian escort destroyer and a crew specialized in fighting pirates. Good luck! I hope sparks fly!
But my Tolili-Ukh X frigate was thirteen hundred feet further down the corridor in a totally different hangar, number 11-753. At any rate, I was using my Scanning skill regularly, keeping an eye on the situation and checking the ventilation and other approaches, so they would not be able to steal up unnoticed.
So, what is that? I noticed some activity on the monitor, which was set to a camera beyond the isolated sector of the corridor. A small group of Trillians was walking or more like slithering up to a guard post, and after a brief exchange of words, the Miyelonian guardsman let them into corridor number eleven, which was closed for the duration of the conflict. Seemingly, the Trillian destroyer’s team was coming back to their ship – there were no other starships in the combat zone to speak of. We’d have to open the metal barrier and let the crew of the nearby ship through. I zoomed in to get a better look at the Trillian and my heart started racing:
Gerd Ussh Veesh Trillian. Gray Trillian subrace. Level-146 Trader.
My good acquaintance. A friend in fact! The “magic jewelry” merchant from Medu-Ro IV. I was still wearing the +3 and +2 Intelligence rings I got from him. Gerd Ussh Veesh, as it turned out, was also a member of the Hive of Tintara mafia. I was not wrong about that. There it was – the symbol for “Execution” seared into the space crocodile’s chest plate. Interesting. Very interesting. Meanwhile the group of Trillians crawled over to the metal barrier and stopped.
The trader turned to the video camera, raised the front half of his body and gave a cordial wave of his foot. An utterly human gesture – Geckho and Miyelonians greeted each other and showed good intentions with totally different body language. Seemingly, Gerd Ussh Veesh knew that I was watching him and was showing that. Alright then, I decided not to annoy the important guest by making him wait and sent Tini to open the barrier:
“Tini, that’s Gerd Ussh Veesh. You probably remember him. Go greet our honored guest and lead him to our ship with all possible respect. I suspect that the space merchant has come bearing news. I hope he can tell me why the Pride of the Agile Paw is so convinced of our victory.”
Chapter 9. A New War
THE TRILLIAN HONKED and rasped in his language, expressing a storm of delight to see me, then he extended an armored sharp-clawed foot. I already knew this gesture and, removing my helmet, let the alien “crocodile” touch my bare neck with his sharpened claw as a sign of trust. In his turn, the Trader eagerly exposed his chest, allowing me to touch a vulnerable gap in his armor with a sharp knife.
Gerd Ussh Veesh gave a satisfied honk and clicked his tongue, walking a circle and looking over my excellent Tolili-Ukh X Meleyephatian frigate. With the look of a connoisseur, he studied the stabilizers, landing supports, laser cannons and thrusters. After that, leaving his two impressively large Bodyguards at the gangway, the Trader walked or rather crawled after me to the starship. There he greeted Gerd Ayni and Tini, who he knew well (in fact, we were all locked up together and suspected of killing the incarnation of the Great First Female of the Miyelonian race!), then gratefully accepted a glass of alcoholic cocktail from the orange Translator. His split tongue slithered into the glass and he gave a satisfied hiss, savoring the drink. But he quickly set the glass aside to show that he’d come on business.
“My human friend! I’m glad to see you in good health!” said the merchant, finally switching to Geckho. “I heard on the news that you got yourself into a tiff with some Miyelonian pirates. I wanted to help because you’re my friend but I see you’re doing just fine on your own. That’s some serious hardware!”
The huge Trillian pointed a claw at a monitor, which was showing the Meleyephatian programmer testing the first of the Immolator robots. And it was already on its feet. The walking robot was obediently carrying out the commands and most importantly was behaving peaceably. So it looked like the reprogramming procedure had been a success.
“Yes, that thing is no joke,” I agreed, meanwhile realizing that I should have turned off the screen so our secrets wouldn’t get out. At any rate, I hurriedly sent my flying drone to a more distant section of the frigate hold so my guest wouldn’t see. And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Gerd Ussh Veesh. More the opposite. I simply thought it best to keep my cards close to my chest.
“Four Immolators! The Pride of the Bushy Shadow will come to severely regret tangling with you, Leng Gnat. They are probably already at a standstill now that Kung Keetsie-Myau has commented the conflict and said she wanted to have a talk with you.”
Well, well! I had a very hard time keeping the ambivalent look on my face and not showing how astonished I was. So then, the Great One was aware of events on the station and had even made a public comment. And on top of that, she wanted to have a talk with me. I wonder what exactly she said to make the bookies change the odds of this war so
abruptly!
I didn’t even have to ask that out loud or give any mental commands. Tini, Ayukh and Gerd Ayni had already guessed what I wanted and were poking at their palmtops, racing to be the first to find this information for me. And meanwhile I responded to the respected Trader that I valued my acquaintance with such an influential individual as the Miyelonian Fleet Commander Kung Keetsie-Myau, but still didn’t expect her to intervene in such a mundane conflict. I was already doing fine, especially if I could smooth over a minor issue I was having with trading.
The Trillian honked in satisfaction. Seemingly it was equivalent to happy laughter:
“A trading issue? My human friend, I suspect that you cannot sell your platinum. Is that right?”
I didn’t try and deny it, just confirmed that was what I was referring to.
“It’s because the Pride of the Bushy Shadow has lain claim to your cargo and declared they will take the platinum containers as spoils of war – both as booty and a security to end the fighting on Kasti-Utsh III. See, in these kinds of wars the official aggressor may specify something belonging to the defending party as collateral against potential reparation payments. So there has been a temporary hold placed on your thirteen containers of superfine platinum powder in the trade system. If you lose and don’t have the money to pay up, your opponent will confiscate the platinum. And they’ll probably take your ship too. The pirates are very mad at you and burning with desire to compensate all their losses.”
Damn! That scared me, especially the possibility of losing my starship which had been quite a pain to get in the first place, and which I had invested so much effort and funds into. But I finally knew why I couldn’t sell the precious metal. This was now a critical situation – without the money from the platinum, I had no way of winning this war. Even with the ancient drone and four Immolators, the pirates would take down my small team sooner or later.
A Jump into the Unknown (Reality Benders Book #5) LitRPG Series Page 11
