Sector Eight (Perimeter Defense: Book #1)

by Michael Atamanov

  The other officers' reports confirmed Patrick's, so my doubts subsided. I was getting one "aircraft carrier" and an ark with a landing party. By the way, not all the officers were able to finish the assignment. Four staff officers still had yet to fish an answer from the stream of information. I opened their personal records and skimmed through them. It's just as well. They're candidates for elimination anyway. In any employee base, there must always be some natural selection, just like in nature. The strong survive and the weak die out, otherwise you get stagnation, disease, and death.

  That said, there was one girl in that group of four losers, and she was miraculously good looking! I spent a while staring at the picture in her personal record. I wonder how someone who looks so much like a model scraped her way into a job as a space fleet officer? It was a lot easier to imagine her in a totally different, much worldlier profession. She's beautiful, no question. I closed her personal record and let out a sigh of disappointment. Yep, the Crown Prince kept plenty of beautiful women around. But, Georg royl Inoky, you screwed me with your crystal habit...

  New message. It was a bill from Himora management for repairing and charging the drives of all ships in the fleet. Almost three hundred thousand credits, but what could I do? It served as a reminder that it was high time for me to get my financial affairs in order. I opened my own information page and read through the items in the income and expense columns. The Prince's main income source was taxes from the population of the planet Tialla. It looked to be something like the personal demesne of a medieval noble. Tialla was giving me around seventy thousand credits every day. The second income source, comparable in size, I had cut off yesterday with my own two hands when I cursed out my wife. The planet Fastel-XI, right up to yesterday, had been sending fifty thousand credits a day to me through my spouse, their leader.

  The expenses column was a bit more crowded. The main expense, as strange as it was, wasn't even fleet upkeep, but buying various luxury items for my personal yacht, Queen of Sin. The second biggest item on the list was a series of expensive gifts and huge money transfers to someone named Miya. Miya, Miya, Miya... Who could she have been if Prince Georg had spent more than a million credits on her in the last month alone? I remembered that Marta had mentioned that name in her wrathful speech...

  Unfortunately, there was no popup message to answer this question, though it was very important to me. It turned out that there was someone named Miya, who was very close to the Prince and knew him very well. This mysterious female would be fully capable of recognizing that I was a stranger in the body of the man she knew so well.

  Well, and finally fleet upkeep. I didn't understand why Prince Georg had to carry the burden of funding a fleet on his own, but it looked like that was the case. The Prince's personal army and star fleet were a part of the Orange House forces. My other aristocratic relatives from the "orange" family also supported their own militaries, though I had no way of finding out what the exact sizes of these forces were.

  The remaining expenses were mere trifles in comparison with the three I already mentioned. In addition to this, I had discovered a fairly large number of small, unpaid bills. It looked like the Prince paid no attention to these trifles. I paid them all at once to finally rid myself of burdens from the last player. I wasn't sure how, but it seemed like something that could bite me in the ass later. When all was said and done, it didn’t amount to much. About half a million, a fact which left me breathing easier.

  So, Georg had one hundred twenty million credits left in his account. After the split with Marta, the income had fallen to two million credits a month. After I put a stop to these payments to this unknown Miya and reduced purchases and luxury spending all the way to zero, I saw that my income was on the level of around half a million a month. I had a surplus! I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Purging the Ranks

  I walked into the medical department with my right arm hanging motionless in a sling tossed around my neck. The nurse on duty jumped out of her chair startled, either ready to give me CPR on the spot or faint herself. In any case, I reassured her:

  "Don't worry, I just pulled a muscle in the gym."

  "It was my fault, I wasn't paying enough attention," added my hulking fitness instructor, hovering timidly behind me.

  "I already told you: you're not at fault here. I overestimated my own strength."

  The nurse gave her huge eyelashes another series of quick flutters and explained that Dr. Nicosid Brandt was tied up with another patient right then, but she would be calling another doctor for the Prince right away. I was not able to solve the ethical problem of how proper it was to pull a doctor away from a patient to get my own precious hide treated before the doors to one of the hospital rooms flung open and officers with Orange House star fleet patches began coming out into the main hall. I immediately recognized the graying Maur Cassei among them. He was leading the members of his crew, who were walking arm-in-arm. Upon seeing Prince Georg royl Inoky, the whole company stopped sharply. The elderly veteran pushed his crewmembers aside and took a step forward.

  "My Prince, as you see... it would seem that I overestimated my own abilities. My heart seized up during a turn. I had to stop training immediately... It would seem that the time has finally come for me to give up my flight helmet to the Space Fleet Museum. Half a century ago, they were already asking for it as an exhibit... I wanted so badly to die in battle, not on a hospital bed like this... My Prince, I would like to apply for retirement."

  "Nicosid Brandt, do you have any comments?" I demanded of the Doctor.

  "A heart attack... Today the frigate pilots spent a whole six hours with just a few short breaks zipping around, being subjected to up to eight G's to practice some new approaches. There have been a lot of visits to the infirmary today in general, but this is the most serious case by far. I recommended that the pilot avoid heavy loads for the next two weeks. And, in the future, he shouldn't keep running himself ragged. He's not a kid anymore..."

  "Got it. Maur Cassei, your application for retirement has been denied. Here is your fleet commander's order: Pyro-1 will play first receiver for the next two weeks for any training exercises or military actions that we may take part in. Two weeks from now, you must undergo another medical examination and, if the doctor has nothing new to say, all restrictions will be removed, and you can go back to Pyro-1 having whatever role your vast experience deems most fit. In order to avoid gossip and chit-chat, we will announce to the whole fleet that you pulled your arm during some sharp turns at high speed."

  Standing change. Your relationship with Maur Cassei has improved.

  Presumed personal opinion of you: +7 (warm)

  Only my personal relationship changed that time, no factions involved, but I was still very satisfied with the result. The old man, despite his sharp tongue, was a distinguished veteran and enjoyed considerable authority among the pilots. His presence alone could be good for the fleet, even just sitting on a couch in the hall of a luxurious yacht. Meanwhile, Maur Cassei, clearly feeling timid, which was uncharacteristic for the fearless pilot, spoke up:

  "My Prince, allow me to speak on a personal matter."

  So he could surprise me after all. "A personal matter?" He can't have been thinking of marrying at his age, right? But it turned out to be something else entirely.

  "My Prince, the Orange House Space Military Academy is holding its graduation in ten days. My great-grandson, Alessandro Cassei, will be among those graduating, top of his class, by the way. And I request that your Highness send a request for young frigate pilots to join our fleet. Of course, there are all kinds of job offers coming in to someone about to graduate, be they from influential aristocrats, corporations or any number of individual planets. But with your influence and abilities, my Prince, the Academy leadership will certainly not refuse a request for pilots."

  Well, well, the old man is talking sense! I didn't have a very good idea of how these vacancy filling requests worked for regular staff,
much less combat pilots, but it sounded very interesting. I promised Maur Cassei to submit the request and got another personal relationship change message:

  Standing change. Your relationship with Maur Cassei has improved.

  Presumed personal opinion of you: +22 (trusting)

  It was really that easy to bring the veteran over to my side! Well then, I hope that with time the other officers will also reevaluate the skeptical attitude they’ve formed about Prince Georg. When the group of officers had left the infirmary, the doctor took a look at my arm. As he injected some painkillers and other medications, Nicosid Brandt wondered to me:

  "My Prince, would you mind explaining why you did this? Why hurt your crystal-weakened body with heavy exercise? If you could just tell me as your personal doctor, it would make it a lot easier for me to understand and prepare for possible complications in advance."

  "And? You just answered your own question. I have decided to totally stop using crystals, and now I'm trying to get a bit more in shape.”

  The doctor spent a long time looking at me in silence, then spoke out in reproach:

  "My Prince, it seems you do not understand that there is no turning back. Crystals are not a normal drug. With normal drugs, the chemical traces can be removed from the body, and the psychological dependency fades with time. Crystals imprint themselves in your consciousness, your memory, your way of thinking. Mystics can't just decide one day to stop doing crystals if they want to keep living."

  "No, doctor, you're the one who doesn't understand. I declare to you as a mystic that there is a way out, and I am preparing to take it. Are there any crystals on the yacht?"

  "Yes, of course. Both you and Miya are in the Official Imperial Registry of Mystics, which is why I keep a few doses of crystals here especially for you two in a safe in the medical center."

  "Destroy them immediately! That is an order! Popori de Cacha... Ah, shit! He's not in the building. Whoever is here in his place now, make sure it happens. And I repeat once again: any person who tries to offer me crystals is a sworn enemy, regardless of that person's status or position in society, and thus must be terminated without delay!"

  The doctor, dumbfounded, opened the armored door with his keys and watched in silence as the chameleon fairly carelessly swept a pile of transparent boxes with some shiny balls inside from the safe and stuffed them into a dark plastic bag. Then my bodyguard opened a door, which turned out to lead to a garbage incinerator and tossed the bags of crystals down it.

  "Done, my Prince," reported the chameleon before camouflaging himself again.

  "Doctor, what is the status of the girl who was found wounded today on Algol Hulk?" I wondered aloud, just to change the topic.

  The old doctor turned to me and said with sorrow:

  "You haven't heard, my Prince? She died before I even got to the cruiser. She had severe puncture wounds, and her extremities were frozen solid. But I did everything the commander of your bodyguards asked of me. I laid her body out flat on the bed, put an oxygen mask on her face, and covered her torso with a blanket. Then it was declared in the cockpit that the wounded girl had seen a criminal and was prepared to identify them, but that she should not be disturbed before tomorrow morning due to her weak state... My Prince, just so you know, normally as a doctor I am a neutral party and must not interfere in conflicts or play into one side's hand, but I am also a living man and want to see those responsible for the death of this young girl punished."

  "Thank you, Nicosid Brandt, and I will try to bring those responsible for her death to the appropriate punishment. As for my quitting crystals, you're one of the Universe’s best-qualified doctors in rehabilitative medicine, and I'll more than likely need your help but, in essence, you understand my decision. I’m going cold turkey!"

  * * *

  "So, how's the game going?" The call came at night after I had just finished chasing away a restless, incoherent dream.

  "Georgiy!" I said, instantly recognizing his voice and filling with joy. "Where have you been? I've already worked two whole days in-game. When am I gonna be able to go back to real life?"

  "Hold up, we signed a contract! It said in black and white that you'd be playing for me for half a year, and only after that can you go back home. Think of it as a business trip!"

  "A half year with no breaks?!" I let out, afraid and shocked at the just-revealed prospect of spending six months trapped in a computer game. "I did not see that in the contract! Plus, I just can't do that. I have a job, friends, and a cat at home to feed."

  "Come on, don't lie. You don't have a cat at home. The only thing you were keeping in that rented apartment was a bunch of empty beer bottles. How can you even drink that shlock?!"

  "Why did you go into my apartment? And how did you find out where I live?"

  Georgiy chuckled happily but, in that moment, his laughter brought me nothing but spite.

  "You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. And don't you worry about the apartment. Your landlord and I came to an agreement. I told him you were working a half-year internship in another country, and that one of my acquaintances would be living in your apartment for a time."

  "Miya?" I blurted out under the spell of a surprising insight.

  Mr. G.I. kept silent for some time, but ended up confirming my suspicion.

  "I don't know how you guessed, but you're right. Yes, it's Miya. Don't try looking for information about her in the game. It won't do any good. I was careful to delete all records of her. Her account has been suspended for six months, and she has disappeared from the game world. You could even say that she was banned by the game administrators. So, it looks like you'll need to look for another Truth Seeker to take her place. Because Miya is mine and mine alone!"

  Beep-beep-beep-beep!

  The incoming call signal woke me up in the deep of the night, interrupting an important conversation. Or maybe I was asleep the whole time and the conversation with Mr. G.I. was just a dream?

  After a moment of looking around for the beeping device, I jerked it up to my ear and accepted the call.

  "My Prince, the criminal has been neutralized. You were right. He came in through the ventilation shaft."

  "Please tell me he's alive! I need to speak with this beast!"

  "Yes, my Prince. He's alive. All I've done is bound and gagged him. I am preparing him for interrogation now. Then he will be brought to Queen of Sin under the protection of your soldiers."

  "Just don't overdo it with the preparation! Peoples' arms aren't directly connected with their ability to speak either, but he won't talk for long without them."

  "I understand, my Prince," said the chameleon, signing off.

  I suddenly lost the desire to sleep entirely. I called for the night nurse and asked for a pick-me-up. I was brought a high-walled wine glass with a dark, bubbly liquid. So sour! But it really did clear my mind and restore my energy. While the chameleon dealt with the captive, I took a seat at the screen and set about experimenting with game options I had yet to try.

  A bunch of minor organizational issues had piled up, and I didn't really understand how to take care of them. For example, I needed to tell my daughter's teachers that Lika was fine but wouldn't be coming back until after break. On a purely technical level, how could I do that? Or did I need to warn the leader of the Tesse star system, my brother Roben royl Inoky ton Mesfelle, according to the storyline, that I was going to be coming to visit soon with my whole fleet? How could I even? It couldn't be that I needed the fleet communications officer to do that, could it? There was no easier way? Not everyone in the game had officers at their beck and call, but somehow they all got along. I poked my nose into all kinds of information panels and couldn't find my own brother's contact information anywhere, so I decided I would need a personal assistant as soon as possible.

  I first thought that my old servant, Bryle, could handle this work, but then realized I was wrong. Bryle was more of a household butler. He could make sure the cooks, cleaners, and
other servants were doing their jobs, but his age was advanced. What I needed was a vivacious personal assistant who could organize meetings, make a daily schedule and carry out any other orders I might give. It can’t be that in such a well-developed game there was no button for hiring a personal assistant, right? I refuse to accept that!

  I took a seat at the information panel and found what I was looking for before long. It was set up in-game as a staff recruitment website. You could set criteria, and the system would search for the right employee (or maybe it just made them up, who knows?). So then, I need a personal assistant. Requirements? Education? Age? I think I'd prefer someone who at least looks like a person (though the list of species available was substantial), with experience in the field and a college education. They should also know at least three nonhuman languages and be no older than thirty-five. Even if I applied the "authorized to work with members of upper aristocratic families" filter, the list of job-seekers that came up took up no less than one hundred pages.

  I needed to thin the herd somehow. What else could I even ask for? Alright, let's find an assistant that does sports as a hobby (another list popped up, and I ticked, practically at random, "mountain climbing," "diving," and "single combat"). The list of potential applicants shortened up noticeably. I tried just putting in some extreme requirements for experiment's sake, like "no less than twelve children," or "truth seeker," but in both cases the resulting list was empty. I pondered for a second. Did that mean that the system wasn't generating new characters? Were they really choosing from available NPC's in the game? Or had I just entered some contradictory requirements? So I kept experimenting with the settings, you could even say I was just messing around, but it ended in me finding (or creating) HER.

  The girl of my dreams. First, she had snow-white hair (plus it was natural, as I had clearly asked for in my search requirements) and an exceptionally well-developed intellect (I moved that slider to max). She was also an expert shot with a laser sporting pistol and a queen of the mountaintops. She had a degree in law and knew the languages of the Iseyeks, the Ravaash and some other brutes I'd never heard of. She was twenty-seven, honest to a fault and had work experience and excellent recommendations. Beyond all that, she had a surprisingly beautiful figure and the face of a model. A dream come true!