Aces High (Reality Benders Book #6) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  “No matter. I’ll stun ‘em real quick!” I promised the Space Commando and tried to do what I had done to the enemy pilot before — take control of their mind. However... this time I was sorely disappointed. A solid impervious wall was the most accurate way to describe what I felt when trying to reach the enemy’s consciousness. Strange. Very strange actually.

  “San-Doon, get back! Stay out of this! This is certain death for you!” I stopped the Copilot, who ran over from the bridge with pistol in hand and without so much as decent armor. “Return to the bridge and lock yourself in! Valeri-Urla, same to you! And take Little Sister with you! Turn off that damned siren, too. It’s breaking my concentration!!!”

  The Pilot and Beastmaster didn’t argue, nodded in silence and left the dangerous area.

  “Captain, do you think you should maybe summon the Relict drones to help? Your two ancient drones could turn this dangerous brute into dust!” Eduard suggested, seeing our general cluelessness.

  But I categorically refused. This opponent could block mental attacks! That was what mattered and intrigued me most now. And at that the interceptor pilot was obviously not blocking my attack with high Intelligence or magical abilities — the last time I couldn’t sense particular resistance. That meant they must have turned on some built-in defense in their suit, or rather shell. And if that is so, the psionic-blocking system was very, very intriguing! Humanity would soon have to go head-to-head with the Meleyephatians, and all Meleyephatians were famed for their ability to mentally attack opponents. And so humanity had a vital need for some way to defend against mental attacks!

  “They’re on the move! Retreat!” I warned Eduard, having noticed the red marker on the mini-map go into motion. We both jumped back to the spiral staircase.

  Sib-O-O-Lu. Vahe-Gukko Composite. Squadron 8347. Level-134 Sentry-Parasite.

  Yes, it’s definitely them! I caught a glimpse of the ammonite-like creature as they came around the corner, slithering on their many tentacles. I also noticed a few bright flashes on the glimmering spherical forcefield surrounding the brute — that was San-Sano and Gerd Minn-O La-Fin. They’d both run over on the upper deck, joined forces, and were now attacking the enemy from behind.

  The Sentry-Parasite didn’t turn to face the new danger, but the little turrets attached to their shell did instantly and lit up with bright flashes. Minn-O’s cry to warn of the danger came too late. Although my wayedda herself had managed to escape the kill zone, San-Sano hesitated and added herself to the list of casualties from my crew in this bitter confrontation. Sticking out for just a second from his cover, Eduard nearly joined the deceased girl, staggering back in his already smoking and trashed armor.

  “Quick little bastard!” my pal commented on his vexing slip-up. “He just shoots too fast and accurately. And it really hurts!”

  I just nodded in silence, trying not to get distracted and looked at the mini-map, which revealed many of the enemy player’s systems in my scan. One of those systems would switch off their mental defense. But which one? I didn’t want to make a mistake, turn off the wrong one and kill this valuable enemy. And I could easily kill them (for example by summoning my drones or switching off the Composite Integrity Monitor — that was precisely how I killed it the last time). However, I wanted this pilot alive. You can’t loot a dead body, and the chance that the specific system I wanted, the psionic defense one, would drop was absolutely miniscule. And I didn’t want to risk losing such a rare trophy.

  “Let’s go further down the corridor!” I shouted to Eduard, again having noticed the dangerous “snail” coming our way. “Don’t let ‘em get a shot on you. I put a marker on the enemy to make them easier for you to track!”

  Targeting skill increased to level fifty-four!

  Telekinesis skill increased to level eleven!

  Using Telekinesis, I sent the space ammonite flying back a few yards around the corner, winning Eduard and I time to take closer cover. Pretty heavy. The action took lots of effort and nearly a quarter of my mana.

  It’s hard to concentrate with a murderous beast on your trail. A thought flickered up that it would be great if Urgeh Pu-Pu Urgeh were here with his uncanny ability to disable sense organs. Defense against psionics wouldn’t protect against that ability (as I found out when he tested it out on me), and how can you shoot lasers when you can’t see?

  Would you like to take the skill Disorientation?

  The system message popped up so unexpectedly I actually shuddered. Then I read it and smiled in satisfaction — so that’s what the skill was called! Yes, I’ll definitely take it! I got the feeling it would come in handy many times with my aggressive and reckless style of gameplay.

  You have taken the skill Disorientation level 1!

  Okay, the last of eighteen possible abilities for my level 102 had been taken, and the next time I could add to my skill arsenal would only come at the very distant 150. It was hard to say when that would even happen. At any rate, this was the perfect chance to test out my new toy on the overgrown space snail!

  Disorientation skill increased to level two!

  Disorientation skill increased to level three!

  Have at you! Didn’t see that coming? I could sense it was working, and I was generously pouring in Magic Points. Thankfully, the new skill was fairly forgiving in terms of mana expenditure. Again! Again!! Again!!!

  Disorientation skill increased to level four!

  Disorientation skill increased to level five!

  “What, don’t like that? There!” I came fully out from behind the cover and, with flagrant gloating, watched my opponent spinning senselessly in place on the floor.

  Disorientation skill increased to level six!

  Sib-O-O-Lu clearly couldn’t see or hear a thing and thus couldn’t orient themselves in space. The turrets on their spiral shell were spinning violently, but not firing. No longer hiding, I walked up closer. I spent a few seconds standing just an arm’s length away from the disoriented enemy, then took San-Sano’s fallen laser pistol in my hand. I set the weapon to constant beam and pointed it at the space ammonite. No, I was not going to kill them, but I had to get through the Sentry-Parasite’s forcefield. In theory, I could look for the corresponding electric system and turn it off using Machine Control, but I decided not to fuss around and do things the easy way. But I didn’t know the capacity of his shield so, just in case, I asked for a bit of help:

  “Minn-O, help me out! Set your pistol to constant beam and toast this thing until its defenses are down!”

  Two blindingly bright rays extended toward the Sentry-Parasite. Woah! Pretty good shield! It took about twenty seconds with two combat lasers before the glimmering forcefield encasing Sib-O-O-Lu disappeared.

  Sharpshooter skill increased to level fifty-two!

  Disorientation skill increased to level seven!

  I stashed the red-hot pistol in my inventory and turned around.

  “Eduard!” I called over the Space Commando, who was watching us. “Walk up to this ammonite and give it a couple knocks with something heavy! Just don’t accidentally bash its shell in! We just need to stun it. We need this thing alive!”

  The shock absorbers of his heavy armor suit screeching, Eduard Boyko walked up closer and in his huge armored glove appeared... an ordinary hatchet. With three precise blows, the Space Commando broke all the laser cannons off the ammonite’s shell:

  “That’s to stop you stinging me again, brute!” the soldier barked. After that, he waved and kicked the Sentry-Parasite’s soft pliant body hard with his heavy steel boot.

  A moment later, the body, huge head and every last tentacle sucked back into the shell. Turning the hatchet around so the flat end faced forward, the Space Commando brought the ancient weapon down on the pilot’s shell with a hollow thud. The body parts shot out of the shell again, and Sib-O-O-Lu’s tentacles hung limp, their shell tilted right and collapsed to the floor. I was afraid that my subordinate had swung too hard and maybe killed the valuab
le captive. The thud was just far too loud. But no, our prisoner was still alive.

  No longer in a hurry, I again studied the list of systems detected in my scan, lining up the devices with the metal outgrowths and bumps on the spiral shell. “There, by the way, is the Pilot Force Protection System,” I said, pointing Eduard to a rectangular plaque on the pilot’s shell and ordering it picked off. And there was the Intuitive Aiming System — the thing my Miyelonian Engineer had spent so long searching for on the Dero interceptor to no avail. Couldn’t hurt to break that off for study either.

  Electronics skill increased to level ninety-eight!

  And there was the thing I needed for myself — a set of three closely set sharp spikes, as it turned out, were the Mental Signal Blocker. Eduard pried all three off with his knife as I asked. And right after that, the mind of the Sentry-Parasite became readable. It was surprisingly easy to read their mind, in fact. Honestly, the first two minutes the stunned pilot was having a hard time thinking. Their thoughts were muddled. But at a certain point, the enemy “switched on:”

  “It hurts... Oh it really hurts! BODY CONDITION ANALYSIS PROCEDURE INITIATED. Shell broken in seven places. Mantle lacerated under shell. Third right tentacle severed. Blue lymph fluid leaking into air bladder. Wound cannot be treated, death inevitable. ERROR! ENERGY UNIT DAMAGED. ERROR! NO LINK TO VISUAL SENSORS. Contacts appear broken. Shield down, generator removed together with scrap of flesh. Implanted electronics not working. O-Lu not responding. It’s unusual not to hear the symbiote’s thoughts. What did I do to deserve this? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. All that does matter is that I have completed the most important mission of my life. The prediction of the great prophet Kung Var-O-O has been confirmed — the enemy has come to our dwelling place! And O-Lu and I had the great fortune to detect the threat! Our names will be recorded in the historical memory units of our descendants for all eternity! Good thing the Composite has been preparing for the Final War for two hundred seventeen tongs. Twelve thousand flotillas have already been fully equipped and staffed, and our half a million starships are spoiling for a fight. The Composite has never been stronger! The enemy will bitterly regret deciding to attack us! The enemy ship will not be able to leave. Our sensors throughout the star system will track their trajectory. The trespassers are doomed... Woah... That really hurts... I can’t get out of my virt pod without O-Lu... As he cannot without me... But our death will be avenged...”

  “Captain! Enemy ships at immediate proximity!!!” the voice of the copilot came over the loudspeaker at the same time as the combat alert siren kicked on again.

  We’d been found! Either they detected our radio communications, or Sib-O-O-Lu sent them their coordinates. In any case, we needed to get out of here at once. I was watching carefully when Technician Urgeh Pu-Pu Urgeh commanded the ancient laboratory to jump within this star system before. There was nothing technically difficult about it. He just had to input the proper settings (including the transport of all objects inside the distortion dome). I’ll try to do it on my own.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated. I tried to imagine the main hall of the Relict laboratory and the control console. There. Here’s where you change the settings. Move this switch to lower position. Power supply. Coordinate calculation. Remove the lock mechanism. Verify the command. Go!!!

  Telekinesis skill increased to level twelve!

  Electronics skill increased to level ninety-nine!

  Machine Control skill increased to level one hundred twelve!

  You have reached level one hundred three!

  You have received three skill points (total points accumulated: six).

  We made it! At least forty Dero interceptors were already spinning loops nearby, releasing whole clouds of drones, probes and sensors into space. There was no doubt that they would soon be able to find and uncover us. Just then, the laboratory and Tamara the Paladin were brought nearly into the corona of the nearby star. Radiation was off the charts. Nothing could survive long in such extreme conditions. I glanced in alarm at the status of the ancient laboratory’s distortion screen. The shield would hold for fifteen minutes. Not bad. That gave us time to make it somewhere else.

  I opened my eyes and first of all looked at the captive enemy — I was distracted and not keeping up their disorientation, so they might have already come back around. But it was too late. Sib-O-O-Lu the Sentry-Parasite was already dead...

  Chapter Thirteen. Going Home!!!

  WHERE IS THAT damned Relict? The laboratory’s subatomic reactor had already been up to full power for an hour and a half. The rest of the frigate crew had long since returned, but Urgeh Pu-Pu Urgeh still had not yet reentered the game. Maybe something had happened to the ancient Technician? Maybe he was wrong about his virt pod’s condition and the safety of his refuge?

  “We’re changing location again!” I ordered the Engineer and Navigator, who I’d taught how to pilot the ancient laboratory.

  For the third time in the last hour we had changed our position. It was both essential and a way of quickly leveling skills for my team. It was essential because the star system was now positively lousy with Composite starships. Without even using active scanning methods, we had detected over fifty thousand small interceptors and ships of larger classes, all darting from planet to planet spilling out probes and setting up intricate equipment. A few times Composite interceptors came relatively near us — inside three hundred thousand miles, or once even just thirty thousand. For a star system with distances measured in the tens and even hundreds of millions of miles, such close calls made me suspicious.

  Observing the maneuvering enemy ships with greater and greater anxiety, our Analyst finally gave in and spoke up through the universal translator:

  “Capitan. Must to speak. Separate cabin. One-on-one.”

  For the first time in my memory, the Analyst had decided not to share his calculations with the whole team, preferring instead to relay his conclusions to his captain alone. Very intrigued, I stood up from my chair and pointed the Jarg into the corridor. The only places with no potential eavesdroppers now were my business partner Gerd Uline Tar’s empty cabin or my own. Gerd Ayni the Miyelonian, who was Uline’s roommate for the time being, was conducting a Geckho language class for crew so that room would remain vacant. Princess Minn-O meanwhile was attending that Geckho language lesson, so the captain’s berth was also safe.

  I could also have asked NPC Jeweler Nefertiti to lend me her workshop for a bit. But I decided against it, because all the surfaces there were covered in tiny items, and the Jarg and I could easily overlook something valuable and knock it onto the floor or even crush it. Yes, you did not mishear about Nefertiti. To the great surprise of myself and the rest of the crew, the NPC Dryad had in fact respawned on my frigate just a step away from Space Commando Eduard Boyko, rather than her legal husband Kisly the Machinegunner. Eduard himself was highly embarrassed at the half-naked dryad hanging off his neck with tender embraces. He lowered his eyes and muttered something like, “it just sort of happened, I’m not made of stone,” and promised to come clean to Kisly when he got the chance.

  “This way!” I invited the spiny space armadillo into my cabin and closed the door behind him.

  The Jarg waddled into the middle of the room on his six feet and hung the universal translator around his neck:

  “Captain. Complex calculation. Important conclusion. Composite knowing our coordinations. Period. Knowing well. But not revealing. Playing around with we. Scaring. Forcing out. Wanting we fly away. Going home.”

  “What do they want that for?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

  It wasn’t that I doubted the Analyst’s calculations — the Jarg had displayed an astonishing propensity for complex and far-reaching conclusions many times before — but there was something illogical in the space alien’s words. Why would the Composite rather play tag than find us and get back their little ship?

  The Jarg... or actually Gerd Jarg (!!!) Woah! The Analyst’s s
tatus went up right before my eyes! His Fame wasn’t likely to have changed — we were the only two in the cabin. That must have meant his Authority just grew. Was my high opinion of the Jarg’s abilities the straw that broke the camel’s back and upped his rank?! Cool if so. I congratulated my crew member on the promotion.

  “Timely. Intelligence promote growth strongly,” the Jarg commented thoughtfully, clearly currently spending his free points. The space armadillo’s speech immediately became much more correct. “Now a more accurate prognosis. The Composite DEFINITELY knows our coordinates. But is trying not to reveal that knowledge. The interceptor pilots are making mistakes ON PURPOSE. When flying toward us. The Composite is aware of null transport. The Composite has nearly grasped this technology. The ships have already laid out detectors. They want to get us to go back. Home. They will then have their enemy’s coordinates. And with time, the Composite could come pay our galaxy a surprise visit.”

  “‘With time,’ how long would that be?” I latched into that critical aspect of Gerd Jarg’s prognosis. “One day? One tong? One thousand tongs? I need something concrete, Analyst!”

  The spiny six-legged armadillo closed his eyes and stood still. I didn’t stop the Jarg and waited patiently, nervously pacing the berth to and fro. There was a lot riding on the Analyst’s response, all the way up to the fate of planet Earth. Three minutes passed before he switched back on and gave a response:

  “Captain Gnat, given the known parameters of null transport, the Composite invasion will take between twenty standard days and a quarter tong! I cannot make a more accurate prognosis than that — insufficient data.”