“Toss the dice and let them fall,” he said, quoting the slogan of every Bacarrae tournament on a hundred worlds.
“Does that mean ‘good luck?’” Jack asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Dante said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DANTE SETTLED INTO THE SMALL, comfortable command chair and leaned forward at the beckon of the pretty attendant so she could attach the crown.
“Is this your first time?” she asked, making small talk as she adjusted the golden ring to fit snugly over his temples. “I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t have any feedback scars.”
Dante smiled at her. “I’ve played,” he gestured vaguely at the command pod and the massive globe in front of him, “but not like this.”
“Oh! Well allow me to say, please enjoy your very first game,” the girl said before giggling. “Your accent is wonderful. Where is it from?”
“Davrini Hacken,” Dante said, touching the crown on his head. He was already feeling the connection to the system, even though he didn’t need it—through the ship, he could interface with a staggering array of psychic technology as easily as breathing. He was still getting used to the sensations, but he was learning so much.
“Oh? Oh!” The girl nearly input an incorrect setting as she realized the importance of the man sitting in front of her.
Dante gave her a disarming smile. “Not to worry. I am just a man making a bet.”
The attendant nodded but remained tense. “The game will begin in a moment, sir,” she said, bobbing her head. “Please use the ordering service if you need anything. Any taste or appetite can be accommodated on New Rome.” She stressed before leaving. When the door closed, Dante settled into the chair. He didn’t need to close his eyes, but he did so, anyway, as he let the connection to the game come fully online.
His was presented with a loading screen where he needed to set his preferences—this was his first Bacarrae match on New Rome and the system didn’t know him yet. He entered his critical information and locked it in, attaching his bank account. Next, he was presented with a dizzying array of different commander avatars to assume in the game. Each commander had a diverse selection of units that would be available for selection in the match. There were limits as to how many units each commander could bring to field, and the game computer kept the sides fair. Every unit had its own strengths and weaknesses, as well as some special abilities. Every commander avatar had a single-use, powerful special ability. All in all, there were many strategic options to consider. A high lord elf commander in golden armor caught his eye, and he smiled while reading briefly through that commander’s specifics. In Bacarrae, the commander was everything—lose that unit and you lost the game. While playing, Dante could take direct control of any of his units.
I like the giant floating brain.
You would. I’m choosing the elf lord—I like the crown.
You would.
Dante finished configuring his profile and locked in his choice. He was immediately transported to the negotiation space. He faced four others, each an avatar of the army he would face, except for the official who would oversee the game. As always, the official appeared as a helmed knight with his or her face obscured. The others were an angel with one black wing and one white wing, a gleaming humanoid robot, and an elemental that looked to be made from raging storm clouds. Dante, himself, appeared as the high elf with a tall crown and a long, sharp sword.
“The rules of this low-level game dictate restricted use of special abilities. Players, the wager stands at clothes, a day of servitude, or five hundred credits. Base-level bets as allowed by Company code THZ-0015,” the official said. “Do all agree?”
The elemental scoffed, “Paltry sums—hardly worth the effort.”
“Do all agree?” the official asked again.
“Yes,” Dante said, bowing a little. “Luck to you all.”
“Luck will have nothing to do with it when I steal the clothes from your back,” the elemental said with a laugh. “We agree.” The others nodded.
“Very well. Fourth seat has choice of arena,” the official nodded to Dante.
“Woodland hills.”
“Typical elf player choice,” the robot said.
“The board will be set and the winnings will be collected when the victor is determined.” The official nodded again, and Dante found himself back in the command pod. He sighed and reached out with his mind, quietly touching each of his opponents. He knew they would be doing the same to determine his strategy and gain insight into his weaknesses. He drew on the power of the Monte Cristo, and he and the great mind effortlessly put together a false front. He felt it being probed, but not shaken, by the other players and he smiled. He turned his mind to his opponents.
This might be amusing.
The elemental was an arrogant young man full of bravado and raw skill. He would be playing aggressively, hoping to quickly hamstring one of the others and take them from the match. The robot was slower, more thoughtful, and would rely on defense. The angel was the strongest of the three, Dante determined, and had enough control of his thoughts that he wouldn’t be able to penetrate without revealing his strength. He abandoned the probe as the players chose and set their game units; he had that chore to tend as well.
The walls of the command pod disappeared and he was floating in midair. Around him, in the Bacarrae arena, a vast forest started to grow into a tangle of brush and tall trees that would be perfect for his elves to wage their war.
They’ll never see me coming, Dante thought, satisfied.
Careful, you’ve not won yet.
He quickly arranged his units and the game began.
He moved to meet the elemental army first, his elf units rushing through the forest unencumbered by the tangled brush. He quickly discerned the elemental player’s strategy, reading his mind with deft touches of mental prowess while revealing a false plan to the smug man. When the elemental player expected to be rushing a hidden troupe of elven archers, he found instead an elven magic user protected by knights with strong shields. Howling with wind and empty bluster, the elementals fell quickly as the wind and lightning broke upon a shield wall.
The angel had begun probing the robot’s defenses, and explosions from robotic guns met bolts of light from the angels. The player’s commander was revealed: a massive archangel holding two gigantic swords with one black wing and one white wing. In the player’s mind, Dante saw an angelic assassin moving silently toward the robotic leader under an angelic illusion spell. While the other player was occupied with the front lines, the angel performed regicide to remove the robot from play.
“Seat two has lost.” The official appeared over the arena and pointed his sword at the robot player’s side of the board. All his units faded from existence.
“Then there were three,” Dante murmured, impressed at the commander of the angels, who now rallied his troops again, this time against Dante. Dante found himself facing the remains of two armies at the same time. He faded his units back a little, laid his trap, and waited.
The elementals rushed in, of course. The remaining units backed up by the storm cloud elemental commander converged on a unit Dante projected as his commander, but was really a normal soldier. The soldier was sacrificed but the elemental units perished in a rain of arrows from hidden archers. Elf knights with their tall shields moved to block off their commander’s retreat. The fight was fast and furious, but in the end the elemental commander fell without support from his other units. The howl of rage from the young man echoed in his mind, and Dante felt him throw the crown from his head in disgust. He turned his full attention to the remaining angel player.
He reached out, scanning the man’s mind for an advantage. The surface was mostly blank, save for a few fleeting thoughts kept under tight control. Dante looked past those false fronts and felt the resistance of the other man, futile though it was. A little more pressure and he could see everything. In a moment, he saw the player’s plan an
d layout of his units and immediately left the other man’s mind. A thin smile graced Dante’s lips as he moved in for the kill.
Is he the one? He sent the thought to the Monte Cristo in orbit.
Yes. This is Albert, son of your enemy Fernand Mondego.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHERE HAD THIS BACARRAE BEEN eighteen years ago when he was a younger man? This was far beyond any of the games he’d experienced before. Dante wove in and out of the perspectives of his elven army with a rush of excitement. Was there anything better than taking a chance and matching your skill against the skill of another? This game felt as real as if he was, in fact, a wood elf running alongside his units as they charged up a sparsely treed butte.
The angel army chased after them, never realizing Dante was projecting a false image on their leader’s mind. While it looked like his entire force was congregating on top of the butte, it was only one of his remaining units; the rest were hidden in the sides of the bowl-like valley below, waiting for the last of the angel army to enter it. There would be nowhere to run.
He kept half an eye on the battle, but his mind was occupied with trying to slip behind the young man’s mental shield. It was cleverly wrought, and the boy’s mind was sharp and quick. Surprisingly, he was nothing like his father. Where Fernand had been crafty and impulsive, the boy was iron-willed and deliberate. Perhaps he’d inherited those traits from his mother.
A blur of movement to his right was all the warning he had, but it was enough. He ducked to the side, mentally commanding two of his nearby knights to attack. The elf to his left slashed at the angel unit, but his sword passed right through it. An illusion! The real threat was a black-skinned angel assassin that appeared out of nowhere, hidden by one of the angel unit’s abilities. The boy had almost caught him off guard—he was talented, indeed. Would that be a problem or a boon with what was to come? Only time would tell.
Dante smiled. The boy was clever, but it would not be enough. Finally, he revealed his commander: the high elf lord stalked forward with sword held in low guard. The elf lord was a force of nature under his superb mental command. Whirling steel countered every strike as Dante felt every attack coming before it was made. High elves sprang from their hiding spots, rushing down the valley and finishing the Mondego boy’s pinned forces. As the last angel unit fell, Albert’s commander appeared in front of Dante’s avatar in a frantic, last ditch attempt at victory with both massive swords held high. Oh, he was a tricky one.
Dante finished him with a sudden strike even as he danced around the heavy swords of the angel commander.
“Seat three has lost. The game is awarded to seat four. Penalties to be determined by the winner.” The official droned as the game arena faded away. His own army vanished and the other three avatars appeared before him in the negotiation space, along with the helmed moderator.
“You’ll pay for this,” the leader of the elementals said. “These level-zero games are just playing around. If you stay for the big leagues, I’ll remember your name and take everything you have. I’m with the Red League, and the enemy of one is the enemy of all.”
“You can try.” Dante kept the frown off his face, but this was bad luck. He hadn’t meant to make more enemies before he dealt with the ones he already had, and if he didn’t rise high enough to play in the higher-tier games, all of this would be for nothing. Still, it didn’t do to show weakness to snot-nosed kids, whether they were well-connected or not.
“Is that some kind of threat?” the elemental player almost spat, despite being an avatar.
“No threat. Only facts.”
The sound of sheet metal tearing filled Dante’s ears and then the elemental player’s voice abruptly stopped.
“Communications privileges have been removed from seat one,” the administrator said. “Seat four will now state the penalty he will take from the losing players.”
“I’ll take the money,” Dante said. He would have liked to see the elemental run home naked, but he needed the credits, even sums as small as these.
“Fees have been deducted from the losing accounts and credited to the winner. Rank changes based on today’s scores, times, and bonus elements have been combined with the average of your ranking for the past thirty days and added to the leaderboards. Congratulations.”
The game faded from Dante’s consciousness and he found the attendant removing the golden ring from around his head. His ranking was displayed on the wall behind her: Captain of the Monte Cristo: 4,356. He scanned the wall until he saw Albert Mondego of Mondego Industries: 2,763.
“Can I request seat three for a drink?” Dante asked the girl.
She laughed. “Are you a mutual admiration club? He just sent you the same message.”
On the wall under their scores, a message floated.
Please allow me to express my admiration in the form of drinks on the observation deck.
Dante’s heartrate sped. He’d been waiting for this moment—or one like it—for so long that it almost felt unreal. His palms sweated as he stood and composed himself. He’d have to play it just right; he couldn’t afford to tip his hand. Albert Mondego would need to believe Dante was his ally and nothing more.
He swallowed and headed for the most important meeting he’d had in eighteen years.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DANTE WASN’T SURE WHAT TO expect when he met with Albert , but Jack insisted he be careful.
“Who is he that he’s so important? Other than dangerous, of course,” he asked as the two walked side by side toward the observatory lounge.
The screens that hovered all around showed the current game in progress, along with several others, as the preliminary skirmishes were fought by lightweights and wannnabes—precursors for the world-altering event that would begin in a few days.
“He is important to my plans,” Dante said. “He may be my way into the main tournament.”
Jack almost stopped. “You plan to enter?”
Dante smiled. “I plan to win.”
“I watched you play. I don’t know the game, but it’s obvious you do. The player running his mouth could be trouble. This game is dangerous, Captain. It has ruined men.”
Dante nodded. “It will ruin many more.” He stopped short of the lounge door and grasped Jack’s shoulder. “Trust me. This will make all our fortunes.”
The young man stiffened and then nodded. “You know we’re with you, Captain. Every one of us owes you his life and more. Now, with the ship—”
“The ship’s worth the cost. There, he’s waiting for me. Wait close by and watch the door. I won’t be long.”
Worth the cost? I’m worth so much more than that.
Dante took a breath and steeled his mind. He’d never seen the dark-haired boy sitting at the lounge before, but he knew him. A mind was a unique thing—an elegant construct vastly more complex than a fingerprint. Having taken the measure of the man’s thoughts during the game, he could sense him now. His features shocked him, though. His eyes and the smile he flashed as Dante approached made him sure this was the son of Mercedes. The resemblance shocked him more than he’d expected. His schooled mind remained in control, but just barely.
This is the man. He is your enemy?
I don’t know, yet. This seemed to satisfy the Great Mind in the ship.
“Captain Monte Cristo, I assume?” Albert stood and smiled warmly, extending his hand. “Well played! That was amazing! I can’t believe how good you are at this—but you’re from Davrini Hacken, aren’t you? Do you play there? Having front row seats to that performance was well worth the cost of losing.”
“You have me at an advantage,” Dante said, returning the smile, even though he had to steel his heart. The mouth and the dancing fire in his eyes were Mercedes’, obviously. All these years later, her betrayal still pained him.
“I had to ask the attendant and perhaps promise her a rendezvous later to learn your name. The lists are confidential, of course,” Albert said before bowing lo
w. “I am Albert Mondego, son of the famed Fernand Mondego and an officer of Mondego Industries, an authorized division of the Company. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
He looked too young to be half of all that and his boyish features were alight with enthusiasm.
“As am I,” Dante said, nodding, “but why single me out like this?”
Albert indicated the chair next to him at the bar. “As you well know, Bacarrae is as much a game played outside the arena as it is inside—it pays to have strong allies. We could do this together, Captain. I’m in need of a good ally. My father… well, I need to prove I’m up to the task of playing in these games on behalf of Mondego Industries.”
“Ah, politics,” Dante said, taking the seat and motioning to the bartender for a drink. “I meant to meet with you, as well, for similar reasons. I’m new to New Rome. You play very well.”
“All the more reason to strike an alliance—at least until the finals,” Albert said. “You’ll be entering the tournament?”
“It’s the reason I came,” Dante smiled. “There is much to gain here.”
“You’ve got that right,” Albert laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “You’ve already made an enemy, though, or so it would seem.”
He tipped his head to the right, indicating a booth where three men muttered amongst themselves. They were well-dressed men of popular fashion and influence. A man with long, blonde hair looked in a particularly foul mood as he scowled into his drink and turned bitter glances toward Albert and Dante at the bar.
“That was the mouthpiece you beat first in the game, Richard Costel,” Albert said. “His father owns hotels and bought his position on the Red League, but he’s starting to earn his own way. He’s a nasty piece of business with a hot temper.”
“A worthy opponent?” Dante reached out with his mind and felt for the other man, where he found pettiness and anger before receding.
Albert shrugged. “Perhaps. I have my own friends and, of course, my father is a notable Bacarrae player with a reputation for ruthlessness. I’m not scared of Costel. In my experience, good men draw the ire of the weak.”
Captain of the Monte Cristo: a space opera retelling of the classic tale (Classic Retellings Book 1) Page 6