Countdown (Reality Benders Book #1) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  I was in the lead vehicle with our diplomat as before, but we had a new driver now. It was the guy who doubted my ability to kill the enemy mage before. He went by the nickname Bonesetter, and he was a Medic by class. When I got to know him, he was a good guy, although a bit skittish and verbose. But maybe that was just evidence of the recent battle.

  The rest of our drive through the Harpy Cliffs node went without incident, although a certain tension could be felt. The crews of the various Peresvets often communicated by radio both amongst themselves and with scout groups further afield. One time, they spent nearly half an hour on the bank of a small lake, waiting for our scouts to check a suspicious section of road. I had already raised Cartography to level 33, Eagle Eye to 30 and Scanning to 24. It looked like I would hit character level twenty before the end of the drive.

  When we crossed into the next node, Desert, everyone looked relieved. The cliffs, impenetrable vegetation and sticky mud immediately gave way to a parched wasteland with the odd spiny tree and small wind-swept hill. There was no cover from the scorching sun, though, so the temperature in our Peresvet started climbing mercilessly. But we didn’t have to fear enemies or ambushes here, which was much more important that our physical comfort.

  Taking advantage of the diplomat’s good mood, I asked the origin of my pneumatic rifle’s name. Why Angel Dust? Because it would turn enemies to dust? The deputy faction head cracked up:

  “Ah, so you got my old air gun! Well, it’s no secret. Many in our faction know the story. Gnat, didn’t you see the letters PCP in the rifle name?”

  Of course I had, which I immediately told him.

  “Well, the abbreviation PCP doesn’t only stand for Pre-Charged Pneumatic. Those letters can also refer to a narcotic, phenylcyclohexyl piperidine, also known by the street name angel dust. It's a nasty little drug that blocks all your mind’s information receptors and causes very severe hallucinations. Phenylcyclohexyl piperidine is eliminated very poorly by the body. A drug test can detect angel dust even a year after you last used. And that was why my career in the Ministry of Foreign affairs went down in flames. They don’t allow drug users. But what’s much worse is that angel dust is ten times harder to kick than heroin, and practically everyone who takes it ends up in the nuthouse eventually. And that’s if they don't jump out a window first. There are plenty of cases of that. But I got lucky. Before I lost my marbles or did myself in, I was brought under the Dome. That cured the physical addiction immediately. But as for the mental... I have to admit I'm still afraid that one day, I’ll have to leave this underground base, end up with my old friends and fall right back into it...”

  “Geckho shuttle up ahead!” our driver interrupted the diplomat's confession.

  I turned my head to look and saw a crescent-shaped flying object shooting over our column.

  Sindirovu. Geckho surface and near-space destroyer-interceptor

  Ivan Lozovsky also looked closer at the flying machine, even took out his binoculars to get a closer look and started smiling:

  “Those are the buyers of our palladium. They don’t want to go through the space port so they won’t have to report it. Well, what can I say? They warned us. Stop the vehicle, Bonesetter. Looks like we’ll be trading right here in the desert.”

  “Smugglers?” I guessed and, much to my surprise, our diplomat didn’t deny it.

  “Most likely. But our faction doesn’t have much of a choice right now. They’ll pay a good price for palladium, and we need as much space currency as we can get to buy technology and manufactured goods, so we can’t be picky. But don’t go wagging your tongue about our little side hustle at the Geckho base.”

  * * *

  Something had clearly gone wrong. Just after our convoy left the Desert node and reached the first rows of automatic laser turrets guarding the Geckho base, a patrol of armed furballs came out to block our path.

  Ivan Lozovsky climbed out of the Peresvet to figure out why we’d been stopped and bicker with the guards. I didn’t understand what they were arguing about, but I definitely heard the words “sindirovu” and “undimeh” a few times. The first was the name of the Geckho smugglers’ interceptor, and the second meant palladium, which I learned during Lozovsky's recent negotiations.

  Astrolinguistics skill increased to level thirteen!

  You have reached level twenty!

  You have received three skill points! (total points accumulated: twelve)

  “We’re gonna have to undergo a complete inspection!” the dismayed diplomat returned to the Peresvet and ordered our driver to follow a light Geckho buggy. “Also, I told them I’m the only one here who speaks a word of Geckho. None of these Geckho understand our language, and if they ask questions in theirs, just play dumb and keep quiet. Especially you, Gnat! I'm sure no one else will gab, but now is not the best time for you to reveal your Astrolinguistics skill. Got it?”

  Although I was offended by his mistrust, I told him he had nothing to worry about.

  “But what if the Geckho call Kosta Dykhsh to interrogate us?” I shuddered in fear, to which the diplomat answered that I shouldn’t worry.

  “He won’t be coming. In fact, it was Kosta Dykhsh that introduced us to the palladium buyers. They're his friends, and I strongly suspect the diplomat is also getting a cut.”

  Our armored trucks drove onto a concrete platform the size of a football stadium, which was surrounded by tall walls of reinforced concrete. The automatic doors closed behind us. I started to get worried, but Ivan Lozovsky demonstrated nothing but calm and confidence. After calling the leader of the First Legion, the deputy faction head ordered us to form an armed perimeter around the Peresvets and not let anyone through.

  The diplomat then went off, in his own words, to “make friends with these Geckho and figure out which wheels need greasing.” Before leaving, the diplomat opened one of the boxes in the back and placed its contents in his inventory: a dozen bottles of vodka labeled “Made by the H3 Faction using time-honored techniques.” He also took a transparent bag of monetary crystals from a safe.

  * * *

  Ivan Lozovsky was gone a long time, nearly three hours. But all that time, despite the unmercifully scorching sun, we took shifts guarding the trucks and looking vigilant and confident for the Geckho who occasionally looked down from the wall.

  Finally, the gates slid aside, and a whole delegation of ten important furballs came out with our diplomat. Based on their staggering, big smiles and slurred grumbling Geckho laughter, they had found a common tongue. Ivan Lozovsky, having changed his camouflage smock for an austere business suit, looked flawless as usual.

  The diplomat spent a long time bringing the Geckho up to speed, showing them our armored trucks and demonstrating the bullet holes and burns on our armor. After that, he crawled into the back of the Peresvet and handed the furballs a sealed box, which they accepted with favor. After that, the delegation left, and our diplomat called us over with good news:

  “Alright, guys, everything’s fine! These Geckho just already knew what we were up to. But I managed not only to smooth over all our misunderstandings, I also found buyers for the rest of our metal. Unload all sixteen tons right here. The Geckho will help us. They’re sending two heavy robot loaders. After that, you have free time until evening. We’re waiting on an orbital transport. After it lands, we can load our composite materials and solar batteries into the space port and go back home by ferry. I’ve already arranged for it. We’ll be back in the Capital before nightfall!”

  Everyone shouted happily. The soldiers began to smile and look lively. I also was glad too. Taking a different route back meant I could keep leveling Cartography. But, I was celebrating prematurely. Ivan Lozovsky started looking for someone and stopped on me, then called me closer.

  “Gnat, I’ve got something for you. It’s risky, maybe even too much, but it's right up your alley. In the electronics shop where I bought your Prospector equipment, a Geckho approached me. His name is Uraz Tukhsh, he�
�s the captain of a Shiamiru-class shuttle and will by flying to the asteroid belt in an hour and a half. He has an automatic resource processor and is hoping to score some minerals. But his crew, as far as I understood, hasn’t managed to find anything of value yet, just junk like ferroalloys, cobalt and other cheap metals. Seeing me buy a Prospector scanner, Uraz Tukhsh was very intrigued. Basically, he made a spontaneous offer to take you with him on their next voyage so you can help him find valuable minerals.”

  My jaw simply dropped. No, I mean just imagine what it's like to find out that, in an hour and a half, you might be flying to outer space! Awesome, of course, but... how would I get back? I didn’t manage to voice my doubts, but fear or hesitation must have shown on my face because he hurried to add:

  “His Shiamiru will return to the space port tomorrow and you can go. Your reward is that, whatever you find, you can take as much as you can carry. And the captain will pay for scanner supplies himself.”

  “What ‘supplies’ does it need?” I didn’t understand.

  “Yeah, I just found out how the whole thing works myself. I figured, you buy the Prospector equipment and that’s that. As it turns out, it's all much more complicated. As for the scanner itself... here it is.” Ivan Lozovsky took it from his inventory and handed me the rectangular object. It was reminiscent of a folded laptop in a shock-proof case.

  Basic scanner (Prospector tool)

  Detection range: 5000 feet. Atomic battery life: 3 years.

  Statistic requirements: Perception 18, Intelligence 15

  Skill requirements: Scanning 20, Electronics 16

  Attention! Your character’s electronics skill is insufficient to use this item.

  Attention! This device requires geologic analyzers to receive data.

  “Gnat, this is the most basic model. The Geckho also had more advanced models in their catalog. But, first of all, they went for simply cosmic prices. And second, I wasn’t sure you’d have the skills to use more advanced scanners. By the way...” the diplomat asked if I even had the ability to use the model he had bought.

  “Yes, of course,” I answered in a careless voice, as if explaining something matter of course.

  But actually, after seeing the scanner’s requirements, I opened my skill window and put seven points into Electronics, raising it to sixteen. My remaining five points I decided not to touch for now. What if I had another urgent need? Ivan Lozovsky gave a satisfied nod and continued his explanation:

  “As it turns out, a Prospector scanner is just a monitor that displays scanning results with like a panel to adjust the settings. Anyway, this computer gets results from special single-use devices. I saw them in the shop, they're these three-foot-long antennas you screw into the ground. When activated, they create disturbances... or like a magnetic field... or I don't really know what exactly, but your computer will get results. This method allows things to be found deep underground, all kinds of minerals, ore veins, empty pockets and whatever else... By the way, these pieces of crap cost fifty crystals a piece.”

  Holy hell! Fifty red crystals for just one lone scan! I began opening my mouth to object to the extortionate price, but Lozovsky stopped me with a raised finger and added:

  “Yes, it's expensive, but Uraz Tukhsh promised to pay. And the most intriguing part is that the captain said he has a light spacesuit on his shuttle made for a person. He is not planning to give it to you for keeps, just temporarily so you can work on asteroids. I’ll admit, I have no idea what it is, and who can make them. But I know we can’t make them. I suspect that our scientists would give up a year's salary without a second thought for the chance to look at a spacesuit of extraterrestrial design! Anyhow, if you’re interested, Uraz Tukhsh is sitting in the space port restaurant right now.”

  What did he mean “if I’m interested?!” Was there any person who would ever find such an offer uninteresting? What doubts could he have?! The ability to fly into outer space comes once in a lifetime, and not nearly to all. Even if it was on a ship of an alien race with a crew that didn’t speak my language, I just couldn’t say no!

  “I thought as much. With all your risk-taking, I knew you’d never let such an adventure pass you by,” the diplomat smiled happily, but quickly grew serious and continued. “Just so you know, this journey is important not only for you personally, but to our faction as a whole. Gnat, you will bring us new knowledge, and there is nothing more valuable in the game that bends reality. We have been in total isolation for almost a year with just low-tech neighbors like forest spirits, centaurs and harpies. Meeting the Dark Faction proved how seriously behind we were.”

  The diplomat went silent and turned, wanting to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

  “Yes, Gnat, the situation really is grave. The leadership of the Dome and our outside analysts have come to the same conclusion: the Dark Faction is developing faster and better than us. We cannot hold out on our own. So, we must change our strategy, refuse isolationism and talk with other players of the game that bends reality. Recently, we’ve been establishing contact with different groups of Geckho but as you see, even at their base, our faction is quite poorly known and treated with caution. So new contacts are very important. Anyway Gnat, here is your mission for the voyage: get to know Uraz Tukhsh and his team, prove yourself a reliable partner, and hopefully get them to hire you long term. Got it?”

  I repeated the mission aloud: get to know Shiamiru Captain Uraz Tukhsh and his crew, prove myself a useful Prospector and, ideally, find more work.

  “That’s exactly right. Try at the very least not to get in any trouble or start any conflicts. The race of Shiharsa is not known for their patience, and they are even less restrained with vassals than Gerd Tamara is with disobedient allies. And you must never change your respawn point. That’s your guaranteed way home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four. Journey to the Asteroids

  WHAT DO YOU THINK of when you hear the words “space port?” Probably a futuristic location where starships of the most unbelievable shapes and designs take off into the heavens with boards showing arrivals and departures, signs in dozens of languages, crowds of aliens, cargo robots scurrying about, fuss, noise and chaos. That is what I was expecting when I went up the smooth spiral ramp to the tall dispatcher tower which contained both customs and all other services of the Geckho spaceport.

  From outside, the dispatcher tower looked like five enormous flat disks, each larger in diameter than the next, with a long thin spire running through them. The structure looked very flimsy, but I suspected that antigrav devices were giving it some extra stability. Most of all, it looked like one of those children's toys with colorful fat rings stacked on a stick, just upside down. Ivan Lozovsky didn’t go with me, staying to make sure the cargo was unloaded smoothly. So I had to find Captain Uraz Tukhsh in the restaurant on my own.

  The ramp made seventeen or eighteen spirals in the dark concrete cylinder before it led me out into a spacious round room with panorama windows.

  Cartography skill increased to level thirty-four!

  There were no scurrying crowds of extraterrestrials, nor fast-moving robots. Also, this establishment could only be called a restaurant if you were stretching it quite a lot. It had three little tables, some hovering semicircular sofas and an automatic panel to order drinks and food. The spiral ramp kept going to the next floors and, in the center, there was a closed metal door on every floor — either an elevator, or an employee-only closet.

  The room was practically empty. But there was a hirsute Geckho sprawled out in an armored space-suit sitting at one of the tables and looking bored. It seemed to me that the space pilot was either asleep or drunk because he was sitting with his eyes closed and nodding over an empty tray. But I was less interested in the Geckho than the spaceport out the window.

  I walked right up to the glass and found disenchantment. The space-ship landing zone was just a rectangular patch of wasteland around a mile in diameter surrounded by a cement wall. It even had all the
bumps, bushes and mounds of the surrounding countryside. There was no hard cover, and the withered yellow grass had visible traces of landings: a few burned circles and one long black strip.

  Eagle Eye skill increased to level thirty-one!

  The only starship on the enormous field was a Shiamiru-class cargo shuttle, which just happened to be at the end of the black strip of burned grass. The space ship was reminiscent of a plump airplane with no tail and short triangular wings. The shuttle was slanted at a severe angle, practically touching the earth with its right wing. There was a brigade of Geckho technicians swarming around the spacecraft arguing amongst themselves. Apparently, I was about to head on my first space flight on that very shuttle. So, I was greatly hoping the strange angled state of the ship and frenzy around it were totally fine, and not caused by technical problems.

  “Gnnnat?” the growl of the alarmed space pilot carried throughout the empty room and I turned sharply.

  Uraz Tukhsh. Geckho. Clan Waideh-Tukhsh. Level-51 Aristocrat

  Aristocrat? What a strange profession?! Why not Starship pilot, like Dmitry Zheltov or “captain,” as our furry diplomat called it? Nevertheless, I set my questions aside for better times and politely greeted my employer:

  “Kento duho, Uraz Tukhsh!”

  In the long minute that followed, I only made out a few words of his two sentences:

  “... low level... speak... Shiharsa... good... Shiamiru...”

  Seemingly, Uraz Tukhsh found my level very doubtful. I do not know what our diplomat had promised him, but the Geckho was clearly expecting a much higher-level Prospector. In the end, I understood I had been asked a question, but didn’t know what the captain wanted from me. But the Geckho was expecting me to answer, so I nodded. I hoped greatly I was not agreeing to sell myself into slavery or donate my body to alien vivisectionists.