by Kris Schnee
The astrogator laughed. "Apparently God does play dice, after all." He called up to the gate, where a sentry appeared. "Found Engineer Hochen wandering the countryside!"
"What? Him? Hang on." After much noise the gate jerked slowly open, with someone cursing and pulling behind it. Miles winced in sympathy; it wasn't well made. Who had needed to build a wooden fort in centuries? "Welcome to Hartstown."
The village was more stockade than housing. The largest building was a cabin built against one wall and used as a barracks, while one of the few others was the kitchen that had a perpetual smoke plume. He saw faint dashed lines on the ground that marked the town as having several zones, in case of battle. Another hut had a bored guard standing in front of it, holding a wooden spear with a bone tip. Samatra said, "This is our command center. The captain will want to see you." He introduced Miles to the guard, who looked startled too.
"Hold on," said the guard, and ducked inside the cabin. For a door, just like the other buildings, it had only a crude set of wood and leather hinges holding it on.
Miles said to Samatra, "Is everyone else here?"
"Everyone's accounted for but you, Eva and three people from cryo-bay section B. We haven't gotten a clear directive from our captors, or whatever they are, other than about needing to conquer a 'Wind Shrine'."
"That's more info than I've been working with."
The guard stepped out, looking rattled. "Go on in."
Miles thanked him and stepped into the cabin. Instantly the battle timer appeared. "What?" He looked around and there was Thorn, his uniform torn and reinforced with leather, holding a bone knife.
Thorn said, "Defend, if it's really you, or you're getting gutted."
Miles whipped out the fabric bolt like a club, but didn't do anything magical with it. "What gives, sir?" He held it up in a defensive stance, and watched the timer gem running out.
"Hold."
The captain kept to his defensive stance, and the battle system faded out. Thorn lowered his knife but kept it in his hand. "Well, you didn't use your chance to attack me. Maybe you're not some doppelganger after all."
"You thought I was a monster?"
"It's bad enough that we've been thrown into some insane simulated world. Who knows what the enemy is trying to do to us, or what they'll do next?"
"Enemy?"
"The aliens. We didn't even get their name. We're just research specimens being told to run through their maze."
Miles said, "Then did they say anything outright to you? Captain, exactly what happened in the last day or so?"
"I will be asking the questions today, engineer. Sit."
There were two logs to sit on, a slab serving as a table, and a pile of brush that was probably Thorn's bed. Light streamed in through a hole in one wall. The command post was practically bare. Miles warily took a seat. The bag of spirits bounced in after him and perched in between him and Thorn.
The captain said, "What the hell is that?"
"Magic damage, sir. Not a problem I'm familiar with, but this is something that can happen if you use that skill." He set down the cloth he was carrying. "I got this in the bargain. What else do you want to know?"
Thorn didn't even bat an eye at the mention of magic. "Everything. Let's start with your expedition to the surface."
Miles related what he'd seen there, though he spoke as though he and Eva hadn't deliberately walked right up to the alien site. "Then the things swarmed over us, and I blacked out. Did they attack the Hart too?"
Thorn studied him. "They did. Like ants, swarming up faster than I thought possible." His face betrayed a hint of shame. "Our engines were disabled before we could lift off. And then the bastards nearly wrecked the cryotubes before figuring out they could take us alive. Now, how did you spend the last month?"
"Frozen, sir, until all this happened." Miles' eyes widened. "Do you mean you've been here that long?"
"A day or so, you said. Twenty-seven days for us. So they saved you for later and we're just now being graced with your presence. Presumably Eva Callahan is being held in reserve, if she survived, along with the three other people we're missing."
Miles stood and paced, though there was little room. "I'm told we have a lead, something about a shrine."
"We do not. What we have is a group of aliens toying with us and refusing to show themselves. When they're ready to meet diplomatically, so am I. Until then we will remain here and on guard."
"I see." He wasn't sure how much to tell the captain, if the man was determined not to follow the obvious quest lead. "On the way here I encountered a lizardfolk village. Do you know anything about a 'Star'?"
Thorn rubbed his forehead in frustration. "That's not your concern. I have a crew to protect. Now get to the barracks and kitchen to find yourself a sleeping place and a meal. Then make yourself useful with whatever needs doing there. I'm sick of supervising the hauling of logs."
* * *
Miles reported to the kitchen. "What are we doing for food around here?"
They had a stock of the orange potato-like vegetables, and berries and weirdly identical slabs of meat. "Where did you get those?" he asked. The furniture here, too, was little more than sticks, and even the oven was basically a stone firepit.
The head cook said, "We managed to make spears, bows and knives, enough to take down some buffalo-like things that wander the plains. It's a rule of this world that things are easy to build, here, and we've got this stupid imaginary magic enhancing the weapons."
Miles helped chop the "spuds". "Magic, huh? How did you get it?"
"I didn't. See, in the first two days or so we were scattered around. Each of us woke up to a briefing about this game, and got told to pick skills. The ones who picked 'Magic' showed up near a canyon with hocus-pocus inscriptions that were a tutorial for casting spells."
"And what it does is upgrade weapons?"
"It improves anything. Puts these 'aspect' things on tools, with the risk of imaginary brain damage, this 'mental stress' thing we've all got. At least I hope it's imaginary."
Miles tried gesturing to call up his interface, and used the Notice skill on the walls of this kitchen. The game gave him a net -1 die roll plus his zero skill. He grunted. "So where is this magic canyon?"
"I thought you already had it, if you somehow have a ghost bouncing along behind you." Even now it lurked just outside the kitchen.
"No, I..." Miles slicked back his hair. His crewmates were living in squalor, the captain wasn't willing to play along to get whatever rewards were coming, and he had a quest to do. "I have an ability that could help us a little. But I need to know about what happened with the lizardmen. Did we take something from them?"
"Oh, that? Yeah, they had an anti-air defense gadget that zaps the bugs that keep coming after us. It's installed in the fort's center now."
Miles said, "I met the lizards. They want it back."
"I bet they would! The damn bugs killed two of us before we got it set up."
Miles stared at him. "Killed. Not just missing like the others, or hit with a major wound or something? They were 'taken out' according to the rules?"
"I watched it happen once. The body vanished, but only after poor Wilhelm got jabbed until he stopped yelling and moving."
"Damn. This game is more serious than I thought."
The cook said, "That's why the captain doesn't want us roaming. Nobody goes out unarmed or far from base now, even to the magic canyon." He looked Miles over again, seeing his crude but new shirt and pants. "Where'd you get that outfit?"
"This world's magic seems to work differently for me. Watch." He sat down, and conjured.
[Magic roll 3/+1. Your defense: -1. 3 stress plus 2-point consequence "Loose Fit".] his clothes stretched, growing longer and looser at the sleeves and hems, until they pooled all around him and he had cuffs dragging on the ground. He looked like he'd picked an outfit five sizes too large. Still, another roll of linen materialized at his feet, this one grey.
<
br /> "Okay, what the hell?" the cook said.
Miles tried to adjust his clothes without tripping, but he was going to need sewing equipment or more magic to start treating this "injury". "I can make this stuff. We can get all sorts of uses out of it. New clothes, tents, beds, rope, padded armor."
He checked his interface again and tried asking aloud, "Can I change the details a little, like color, without it counting as a new spell?"
[Yes.]
"Did you see that response?" Miles asked his crewmate.
"No. One of those text messages? They seem to be personalized. We're lucky they figured out English enough to communicate at all, but why are they doing this?"
Miles shrugged. "I want to know, too, but we're not just lucky they learned our language. I would've bet that they'd have such different minds, they wouldn't understand us at all. Anyway, here's cloth you can use for pot-holders or napkins or something, and I can now crank out a lot more."
"You should probably ask the captain first."
Miles scowled. "Ask for permission to crank out free resources? I'd rather just get started and take suggestions later." He began casting repeatedly, usually succeeding and producing more fabric in a variety of colors.
The cook stepped outside and around Miles' annoying ghost-bag, saying, "Then I'll let people know to come pick it up."
* * *
A crowd had gathered. Thorn had divided everyone into three watches, some sleeping through the day, but maybe a hundred people had come to the kitchen to watch Miles at work. He'd moved outside the building to do it. More and more textile rolls wove themselves into existence beside him.
"Can you do silk?" someone said.
Miles said, "My list just shows basics like linen, cotton, hemp and burlap. So no fancy fabric."
A woman watched him, looking thoughtful. "You know, 'fabric' and 'cloth' aren't exactly the same thing. If your power interprets those loosely, then how about asbestos? Ballistic fiber? Cloth of gold? That fireproof stuff, nomex I think?"
Someone else suggested, "Gun cotton?"
There were some interesting possibilities. Just then, Miles got another window saying:
[You've earned a stunt. Pick one of the following: -Exotic Weave: Create a wider variety of textiles including silk and polyester, with full control over color patterns.
-Tangler: +2 to create advantages in combat by entangling a foe with cloth.
-Workshop Tent: +2 to defend against magic backlash, while in your designated home tent.]
Another tough call! He didn't much care about the first option, if he wasn't going to get the full variety like kevlar, but did he need combat power or magic defense more now? As much as he needed a fighting advantage, he also needed to have the flexibility of casting without hurting himself.
He asked his audience, "Did you all get the same skill spread as me, with one skill at 3, two at 2, and three at 1?" They nodded. "Then there's something subtly wrong with the game balance. The rolls to recover from injuries are at difficulty 2, 4 and 6 I'm told, which is standard, but normally we'd get more skills. Four, three-three, two-two-two, four ones. So we're at a lower power level than normal compared to the healing difficulty."
Most of his onlookers stared at him like he was an alien himself, but he recognized a very tall man named Rodriguez from one of Eva's gaming sessions. "You know what I'm talking about, right? From when she had us fight that bear and we spent half the session looking for medicine afterward?"
Rodriguez looked sheepish. "Oh yeah. I don't remember the exact numbers though. Never thought my life would depend on it. I guess we got fewer skills because there was a shorter list to pick from than in the original game?"
"Probably, but still... Hey, alien captors! You messed up the game balance. Are you paying attention?"
[Henceforth, the difficulty roll to recover from injuries will be 1, 3 and 5 respectively.]
Everyone murmured, looking at messages that presumably floated in front of their eyes, visible only to them. Then someone said, "You might've just saved lives in advance."
Captain Thorn burst out from the command hut, saying, "What just happened?"
Rodriguez said, "Rule change! Miles here just --"
"You did this?" said Thorn, glaring at Miles.
"All I did was ask the GMs about the healing system."
"All you did, you say? Are you planning to get the enemy to rewrite other laws of local physics?"
Rodriguez said, "Sir, this is beneficial."
"I didn't ask you. None of you will initiate conversation with the enemy until further notice, understood?"
There was angry murmuring from the gathered crowd. Thorn spotted the pile of cloth and said, "And what's this?"
Miles spoke up. "I can generate a basically endless amount of it."
"And you didn't tell me this right away? Hochen, what else are you hiding from me?"
Miles started to remind him that Thorn had been the one to end the conversation, rather than waiting for a complete report. But at this point Miles wasn't eager to volunteer information that might lead him to be even more hostile -- like the bit about Miles being "chosen". Instead Miles said, "There's a cave where they started me off, with a statue that attacked me. I can tell you where, if you want, but I doubt it's worth visiting."
Thorn studied Miles' face and his ridiculous oversized clothes, took a deep breath, and sighed. "If you have this special snowflake power to make more supplies for us, then begin making yourself useful by setting up tents, beds, rope, whatever it lets you do. I expect sheets for everyone at the least. Bring me some, once the rest of the crew is so equipped. Dismissed." Thorn spun and retreated to his hut.
Miles sighed and returned to his spellcasting. "What's his plan?" Miles asked Rodriguez.
Rodriguez had spent most of his life in zero-G, growing even taller than most spacers, and he looked uncomfortable on this Earthlike world despite his reinforced skeleton. He said, "I don't think he has one, beyond hunkering down and refusing to play. We lost the first officer; she's one of our missing people."
Three shadows appeared in the sky. "Look out!" someone said. Miles stopped his magic and picked up one of the bolts. "More of the bugs?"
"Yeah. The Star should get them, but be ready." The others mostly had knives or spears. As the bugs swooped down, a blast of electricity crackled from a small open-roofed tower that Miles hadn't paid close attention to. He'd figured it was an outhouse. One of the invaders got fried in midair, and a second was hit a moment later, but the third pounced at the humans. Miles jumped in to help attack, but there were too many people crowding the area. The beast went down in a flurry of blows in one round.
"You see what we're dealing with, Hochen?" asked one of the maintenance guys. "These attacks have been happening every day."
"I've got a better idea. Instead of the anti-air gun there, let's put a roof over this whole place. I can make us a giant tent. Probably more strings for bows, too. I assume you've been using animal gut."
The repairman said, "You can do infinite cloth? I guess a Fort Big Top could work, and then we could mount the Star on a top turret."
"Or, we could return it. The lizards want it back."
"I don't care about the lizzies. If this is a game, then they're not real people."
Miles said, "What exactly happened in their village? Did Thorn just take the thing and fight off the natives?"
"Yeah; so? Again, not real. It was treasure, and it's saving our lives."
Miles addressed the whole group. "We're being watched, and judged. We made first contact with aliens, and their first impression of us is that we rob from primitive locals. We can do better than this. Let's show them that we know how to recognize our mistakes and treat non-humans decently."
He found that he actually believed this argument of his. The original point was a hidden motive, that he was on a quest to get the artifact back because, basically, the aliens had handed him a fate point for playing along. But it was also the ri
ght thing to do, from the perspective of impressing the GMs.
Some of the crew sounded sympathetic, while others pointed out that it was the captain's decision. Miles let it drop for now so he could think and build up some goodwill. "Can somebody help me sew up these ridiculous loose sleeves?"
4. The Star
He took a moment to pick from that earlier stunt menu, choosing "Workshop Tent" to give himself an advantage on magic cloth-making. Though he'd gotten his "Loose Fit" problem treated, his lingering damage left him still dangerously vulnerable if he went adventuring again. He at least had an extra fate point left over from accepting the lizards' quest.
Miles
Fate Points: 4 (Refresh 3)
Master Artificer
Pledged To the Light
Need To Learn Why I'm Here
Fateweaver
Skills:
3: Magic
2: Craft, Survival
1: Shoot, Mind, Athletics
Stunts: Magic Bolt (cloth telekinesis), Workshop Tent (+2 magic defense in home tent)
Stress: Body [][], Mind [][][]
Consequences:
2: Sewn-Up Sleeves*
4: Sack of Spirits
6:
His first order of business was to eat, and the second, to make a tent. He worked with the other crew to take some of the cloth he'd made and combine it with some sticks to make himself a crude tent anchored in the dirt. He called out, "This is my home tent now. I get that bonus, right?"
The GMs informed him, [You have not slept here yet.]
So he couldn't just declare his home to be any tent he entered. "Sleep sounds like a good idea anyway," he said. It was still afternoon but he was worn out. He told the crewmen with him, "I'll get onto production of more cloth stuff after I rest."
* * *
He woke up hungry. Samatra the guard was leaning into the tent, calling for him. The annoying spirit bag sat next to the roll of cloth Miles lay on; apparently the GMs didn't count a full "session" as having passed yet. He argued that enough had happened, but they said nothing.
When Miles opened his eyes the man said, "I heard about you and Thorn arguing, and this business about your special powers. Are you really looking to return the Star to the lizards and cover this place over instead?"
