World Unbound

by Tao Wong

  Bhale’s lips thin, but he inclines his head then walks off. Sishin glares at me for a second more before walking off. I find myself letting out a breath, shaking my head slightly, as tension drains. In some ways, the Movana seem to be nice enough people. It’s a pity we’ve been forced onto opposite sides. But…

  But like with Roxley, all I’m seeing is a single facet, a single set of individuals. What they are, who they are, means nothing under the aegis of their respective empires policies and desires. In the end, under the wheels of politics, humanity will be ground away unless we can establish ourselves.

  Which is the point of today, after all.

  Finding a time to speak with Bipasha alone is more difficult than I imagined. It takes nearly the whole night and waiting for her to make her way to the ladies’ room. Thankfully, the modified ISS has artificial gravity because while I might admire the astronauts, I’m not inclined to fully experience certain things in zero g.

  “Mr. Lee,” Bipasha says to me when I catch her in the corridor on her way there.

  “Are we really good?” I say, cutting right to the chase.

  The woman smiles, her tight, tailored armored jumpsuit shifting as she steps closer to me. “Do you not trust my assurances?”

  Her hand lands on my chest. She’s so close I can see how flawless the chocolate skin on her face is, smell the exotic scent which wreathes her, sense the swell of her body. In the corner of my eyes, I note how my Mental Resistances have kicked in even as my hormones rise slightly, but not untowardly. Just enough to remind me that yes, I do like women too.

  “Cut it out,” I say, glaring at her. “This isn’t the time for this.”

  “Oh, Mr. Lee, I’m sure it’s not. But it’s what makes it so fun.” Humor dances in her eyes as she steps back, the arch in her back relaxing slightly. “In any case, I understand even my charms might be insufficient to take you away from your most recent conquest’s side.”

  “Roxley has nothing to do with this,” I say and point at her. “For one thing, we don’t have that kind of relationship. And for another, I know you’re not really interested.”

  “Really?” Bipasha says with a sniff. “Thank you for telling me my mind, Mr. Lee.” There’s a slight pause before Bipasha shrugs. “And perhaps I seek to enjoy what I can, when I can. After tomorrow, many things will change.”

  “So we’re good?” I repeat stubbornly, attempting to drag the conversation back.

  “We are good,” the Weaver says with a sigh. “All of my contacts have signed and affirmed their Contracts. If there are any concerns, they will not come from my people.”

  “Great.” For a moment, I stare at the woman, sensing something in her. I try to figure out what it is my intuition is telling me, but it eludes me.

  “If you are done, I was going somewhere?” Bipasha says waspishly.

  I grunt and wave her on, discarding the thought. It doesn’t matter. I trust her to be true to her word. After all, we were voting her in.

  Chapter 21

  Trouble comes eleven hours away from the vote. I’m resting in my room, drained from the constant politicking, socializing, and hand-holding. Rather than snap at another settlement owner, I retire to my room. Having paced, fretted, and attempted to read, I finally gave up and collapsed on my bed to journey to the blessed lands of sleep.

  “Wake, Redeemer. The flags of betrayal have flown!”

  I jerk awake, sword appearing in my hand as I roll out of bed and scan for threats. The quickly cut-off chuckle from a familiar voice is sufficient for me to relax, though I find myself glaring at the tired-looking First Nation’s lady. She’s seated on the only chair, head propped on her hands with a smile on her lips.

  “Ingrid,” I say frostily. I briefly wonder how she could be here and then realize the answer is real simple—

  we never did take her off the entourage list for Lana.

  “No joking. Wake up, John. We’ve got problems.”

  My eyes widen as I stand, dismissing my sword. I almost call it back when the door slides open, but I stop as Lana, Mikito, and Roxley tramp in.

  “I really would like to know what is going on. I left Katherine to hold down the fort, but all of us disappearing is not a good idea,” Lana says.

  “Betrayal!” Ingrid says, adding a little timbre to her voice. Seeing no reaction, she pouts before continuing. “So, good news. I’ve managed to kill the assassin. Bad news, when I went checking the boards for more work, I found a lot. Not much work which actually pays what I’m worth, but you know, it’s kind of the way it’s always been, right? You struggle and work hard, but does the rockman ever give you credit? No. Never. It’s always, what have you killed today?”

  I stare at Ingrid for a second then materialize a carafe of coffee. When I get a few pointed looks, I hand out cups of it, including one to a very grateful assassin.

  When she’s done sipping it, she gets back on topic. “So I started looking into the jobs. Some of those jobs, they’d been around before, right? And then there are the low-end bids on everyone and their dog. Quite literally. I mean, who hates dogs that much? But there was this whole new set which are serious and have deadlines of, like, ten hours from now. Their targets are all clustered, but they aren’t exactly high-profile fellows. Definitely not worth what is being offered,” Ingrid says. “I did some digging, and well, looks like the Fist might not be playing straight. Cost a pretty penny, but the contract on you isn’t the only one they took out.”

  I blink, staring at Ingrid, putting the pieces together. One of the facets of the Shop is the need to know the right questions to ask. But once you do, the answers you can get are astounding—if you’re willing to pay. Obviously, the information Ingrid collated was sufficient to make her risk asking and paying for the answer.

  “Why?” Mikito says with a frown, small hands tightening into fists.

  “Politics,” Roxley says, a foot tapping rapidly on the ground for a brief moment. It’s a surprising amount of loss of control for the normally cool Truinnar. Then again, he’s rarely so wrong. “The Fist consider the Dungeon Worlds theirs. Their fears of what you intend to do when you gain a seat—or perhaps of what the other Dungeon Worlds might do with your example—must have overridden their Contract with you.

  “It’s possible your attack and their betrayal, might have originated from outside Earth as well.”

  “I thought they’d just stab us in the front…” I muttered. But really, just because they were fight maniacs didn’t mean they couldn’t scheme like everyone else.

  “What do we do now? We can’t just let them attack our people,” Lana says, frowning. “And why would the Fist risk multiple assassinations? There’s no guarantee those settlements will fall the way they want. If they succeed.”

  “Distraction and disruption,” Roxley answers promptly. “I would wager they have forces ready to launch an actual attack to take advantage of any attempted assassination.”

  I nod slowly. I can see how having someone try to kill you could be distracting. Depending on the targets chosen, it could make a huge difference. With all the settlement owners—or at least their proxies—up here, taking out the second-in-command or whoever is in charge of the defenses could make a huge difference. Especially since most settlement owners are the highest Level residents in any city. I have to admit, it’s a decent plan, especially if they intend to betray us. But…

  “Why now? Why not wait till the actual vote?”

  “Numbers,” Ali says. “That was probably their initial plan, but our defense was likely better than what they expected. Even if they walk away, so long as Ares doesn’t, we’re good.”

  “Ares is unlikely to break a System contract. Breach of contract for a corporation is a much more significant matter,” Roxley adds. “The impact on their rating and reputation would have a much wider impact on their business. No one wants to buy from a weapons corporation which refuses to fulfill their contracts. It is why I believe their change of mind is more re
cent.”

  There are nods all around while everyone looks somewhat more unsettled. What was a comfortable margin in case of defection and betrayal has become significantly smaller and tighter. In fact, it’s low enough that losing even a couple more settlements would be dangerous.

  “Mikito, we need you on Earth. You and the champions,” Lana says, the redhead’s mind obviously working quickly. “Ingrid, can you liaise with Mikito and the settlement owners who might be affected?”

  “About that…” Ingrid hesitates.

  “What?”

  “I believe Ms. Starling is concerned about letting the source of information be known. I assume the access to such information is often restricted and tracked,” Roxley says.

  Ingrid swiftly acknowledges Roxley’s conjecture then sits in pensive silence, leaving Lana floundering as she rethinks her plans.

  “Right, well, the diplomatic group up here will focus on double-checking all our votes again. Hopefully there aren’t any additional surprises, but we need to be sure.” Lana turns to me. “John…”

  “Yes?” I say.

  “I’ll do it.” Ingrid looks at Lana and nods firmly, lips pressed tight. “If we can, I’d like us to hide where the information came from, but worst-case scenario, I lose access. But I’ll make sure everyone gets word.”

  Lana flashes Ingrid a smile filled with gratitude and relief. In it, I can see hints of shared recollection of all the struggles we’ve faced together. Or perhaps it’s just me.

  I watch the pair of them for a second before I speak up. “What am I going to do? Should I join Mikito?”

  “Ali, how many Master Classes are in play?” Lana says.

  “Right now? I got nothing. They’ve got a bunch, but they’re all sitting in their settlements. Probably deterrence to stop us from sending our own forces in,” Ali replies.

  “Until they commit those forces, sending you down would be foolish,” Lana says. “Once you’re in play, yanking you out will be difficult. It’s unlikely you would be able to finish any fight quickly.”

  I grimace but nod. True enough. Sometimes, not committing me to a fight is as good a deterrence as sending me down. With the other champions in play, it’s not as if we don’t have our own powerhouses. But none of them have the ease of mobility that I do. At the end of the day, while I’m a single Master Class and can’t be everywhere on the battlefield, the threat of adding a second Master Class to a fight can be an extremely powerful deterrent. “So what do I do?”

  Lana and Roxley share a look before Lana asks the Truinnar, “Hardball?”

  “Not yet. Let’s test their resolve first,” Roxley states.

  “If it’s weak?”

  “Then we’ll use John,” Roxley says, to which Lana offers a nod.

  “Hey! I’m right here,” I say with my arms crossed.

  “We know. We’ll send you a list of those you should speak to,” Lana says. “If we can reinforce the impression…”

  “Viable. But a practical example might be required.”

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” I say.

  The smiles the pair give me offer little hope.

  Hours crawl by as I scramble to complete all the conversations I’m allocated. Between the high Constitutions among the populace up here which reduces or eliminates the need for sleep, the settlement owners from all over the globe, and the myriad rest habits of the Galactics, there’s always someone to talk to. Or threaten. Or cajole. Hours of walking, talking, sipping, and drinking. Of playing the social butterfly.

  In time, everyone realizes something is going on, though what exactly might not be known. When Lana finally comes up to me during a break, I find myself grateful.

  “Any news?” I mutter softly.

  “Three attempts. So far, we lost one settlement and are in the midst of fighting for two more. The Movana have continued their push too and even increased their attacks, which have kept the champions busy,” Lana says. “We’re going to need you to speak with the Fist.”

  “About this?” I say with a frown.

  “Five minutes. In the observatory,” Lana says.

  “Exactly what do you want me to do?”

  “Just be yourself. Convince them, if you can, to keep their word.”

  I can’t help frowning at her words, but Lana gives me a mysterious smile before she walks off.

  When I make my way to the observatory, I’m somewhat surprised to note the crowd. Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t be—with so few hours left till the vote, most people would be up. Drawing a deep breath, I let it out slowly to calm my nerves before I make my way to the Fist. Interestingly enough, or perhaps tellingly, it’s only Asgauver and Emven up here today.

  “Asgauver. Emven,” I say, trying to remember to stay polite. At this point, the attacks have made it pretty clear they’ve betrayed us, but we’re in polite company. For now, being polite will provide a better image than acting like a screaming, ranting hillbilly.

  “Duelist,” Asgauver says, feet spreading slightly. “Are you here to confirm our support?”

  “No. It’d be a waste of air,” I say, the placid, almost insultingly blasé reaction from the pair immediately making me break from Lana’s instructions. “I was surprised you chose to outright break your word and Contract rather than turn us down directly. Not the bold and honorable image of the Fist I had been led to believe.”

  “What do you know of the Fist, Duelist?” A spark of anger rises in Asgauver’s voice at my insult. “You might have lucked into a few Perks and fought a few wars, but we at the Fist are true warriors. And there are no rules in war but the most important—a blade must always be sharpened. You and your dreams for Earth would block our people from testing ourselves on your planet, in some misguided attempt to better everyone.”

  “And you think we shouldn’t?” I say softly, my eyes narrowing.

  “You cannot Level those who refuse to fight. You need only look at the average Levels to realize the Artisans’ way of growth via production is a lie,” Asgauver says. “The Artisans bleat about how important they are, but in the end, they rely on us, hide behind us. Without the Fist, without our trips to the Forbidden Zone, without us clearing dungeons for them, their precious cities would be overrun. The Fist is what holds the Galactic Council together!”

  “And so to hell with us on Earth and our hopes of not being dragged into your cycle of war and death,” I say. “Keep the doors open, give you guys everything you want, and vote to send even more worlds to hell.”

  “Yes,” Asgauver says. “Because if not, we all die.”

  “Ah, of course,” I say. “Even if you could have designated another world, like Mars or Neptune, as the new Dungeon World. It’s too damn hard, isn’t it, to build up a non-populated world? So rather than do that, you’ll sacrifice billions for some imagined future. The tyranny of the future justifies the sacrifice of the present in your eyes. Well, pardon me if I’m not going to lie down and take it.”

  Asgauver snorts, shaking his head. “I knew you were useless. You Paladins, you champions and Guardians, you all think you’re better than us. Doesn’t matter what species. You refuse to accept your place in our System.”

  “Our System?” I scoff, scorn filling my voice. “This System forces us into a world where the few grow at the expense of the many. Master Classers lording it over Advanced Classers who lord it over Basics who do the same to Artisans. Settlement owners who own and gain experience and Credits and power over those under them, dictating taxes and lives without recourse.

  “The System is broken from the beginning, meant to provide only for those on the top. You think because you’ve struggled to the top, it justifies it all? You think, because a few can progress and climb to the peak it’s sufficient proof the System works? Garbage. On the way, you’ve crushed and killed, taken and discarded hundreds, thousands of others. We’re all victims of this damn System. But you’d rather bend to it than make it bend to you.”

  My hands clench as
I stare at the giant Kudaya, the hippo’s nostrils flaring at my challenge.

  “You speak as if this is new. As if what the System offers is somehow wrong. But it is what it is.”

  For a moment, I falter as my own words, my own thoughts reflect back at me. But there’s a lie in those words too.

  “What is, is. There is no justice, no mercy inherent in this world. Entropy takes. Without recourse or consultation, it devours our hopes and ignores our despair. All true, all correct,” I say then look at the Kudaya. “But what is, is not what may be. It lies with us to build the world that we desire, to shore up the sand castles of our beliefs against the tide of necessity.

  “So yeah, I’ll stand right here and tell you and your Fist to get back on board and keep your word. Because if not, if we lose this vote, the first damn thing I’m going to do is open a Portal and take all your settlements.”

  “Threats are useless without the force to back it up. And I would crush you,” Asgauver snarls and leans forward, his giant snout inches from my face as he speaks.

  “Pretty sure the score’s 1-0, ugly.”

  Asgauver snarls and shoves, a giant meaty arm hammering my body. I’m forced to step back, unable to soak up the full force, a low throb in my chest as my ribs creak. Before I can even draw a breath, Phil is there, between us.

  “Enough,” Phil Katz says, his voice filling the room. “You know the rules. There is no fighting here!”

  “Of course you would side with your human,” Asgauver says with a snort.

  Phil’s eyes narrow as he looks over the Kudaya, then he speaks, his voice still calm. “I am siding with no one. You were informed of the rules when you arrived, as was Mr. Lee.”

  I consider pointing out it was Asgauver who hit me, but decide against it. Something about the way Phil holds himself tells me he would be less than happy with my meddling.

  “I agreed to allow the station to be a center point for such events under guarantees from all parties that such altercations would not become violent. If that has changed, then your presence on this station is unwanted,” Phil says.