Aces High (Reality Benders Book #6) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  Taking the microphone, the diminutive tailed Miyelonian announced to the whole practice ground:

  “That’s enough for today! Troops, fill your bellies and go get some rest. All instructors and squadron commanders come see me at headquarters. We’re going to go over your errors.”

  Then Ayni turned around, measured me up with a long scrutinizing gaze and said:

  “As for you, Gnat, I suggest you get a good night’s rest. You’ll be taking part in the exercises tomorrow yourself. And you will have to try and prove to the many factions of both worlds that you are worthy of being called their Kung. Choose the ten strongest fighters from Team Gnat or anywhere else. Tomorrow all of you together will try and kill me!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight. A Nighttime Conversation

  I DIDN’T FOLLOW the Morphian’s advice and go straight to get some rest. Training is a beneficial and important endeavor, but I had another few pieces of urgent business that just could not bear delay. For starters, I had to talk with the Geckho from the spaceport services. Despite the late hour, I needed to get them all in one place to announce the new rules barring trade with the Terrestrial Coalition and preventing its members from visiting the spaceport as punishment for standing in the way of a mission from the great Krong Daveyesh-Pir.

  Sabotaging a Krong’s instructions was a very serious infraction, so the spaceport employees didn’t have even the slightest objection to the Kung of Earth’s first decree. But just to make sure, I gave each Geckho some extra personal motivation to ensure compliance. I introduced a rule that was highly reminiscent of the pirate prides’ scheme for gathering useful leads: any spaceport employee or cargo ship crewmember that discovered and reported a prohibited shipment could lay claim to a quarter of its value it was sold by my business partner, the well-known Gerd Uline Tar. As expected, the spaceport employees were delighted to hear that. A few of them even ran off to check the cargo bills of two recently landed shuttles transporting goods for Earth factions.

  Authority increased to 107!

  Psionic skill increased to level one hundred twenty-seven!

  Mysticism skill increased to level seventy-two!

  Training skill increased to level twenty-nine!

  You have reached level one hundred six!

  You have received three skill points!

  Despite the positive nature of the pop-up messages, I was actually more upset by them. Regrettable as it was to admit, the speed my Gnat was gaining levels and skills was going down all the time. Whereas relatively recently I could expect to level up two or three times in one day with fifteen or twenty skill-ups on top of that, now it had taken me more than two days to get from one hundred five to one hundred six. And sure, in that time Kung Gnat had been busy primarily with a long string of talks and administrative affairs, but nevertheless... the writing was on the wall and it saddened me. And the Training skill I had taken to ameliorate the situation was not having too big an impact on the overall picture.

  Approximating this trend into the future showed that reaching level one hundred twenty-five, which was what I needed to use the Tachyon Bender and other second level upgrades for my Listener Energy Armor, would take two months in the best case, and most likely a whole three. And that, of course, was not great for me. After all, I wanted to be able to use that armor improvement before being sent out to the red-hot space war and ideally, you never know, even surprise Fox at tomorrow’s training session. And so, I headed to my frigate in its covered hangar, and summoned all three Kirsan repair bots:

  “I need this thing here,” I said, taking a heavy rectangular box with rounded edges from my inventory, “to have not only its racial limitation removed, but also to have its level and skill requirements reduced.”

  I placed the Tachyon Bender on the table, giving the mechanical centipedes a chance to study the precious artifact. I didn’t understand how the white Kirsan did it, but it only took the repair bot two taps to open up the seemingly monolithic item and split it into several parts: some electronic chips on thin ceramic disks, an array of dark crystals and two flat metal sheets, one with a readily apparent socket for attaching onto the back of my Listener armor suit. All three Mechanoid repair bots extended their thin little jointed arms toward the table and spent a long time prodding the components and conferring amongst themselves. One of the electronic chips attracted the Kirsans’ particular interest. They spun it around, handed it off to one another, even seemingly hooked it to a power supply inside their flat bodies — I saw the bots touch their little hands to all the contacts and freeze for a good while, examining something. It’s worth mentioning that the chip’s power supply did not run from the main nuclear battery of the armor suit like all the other hardware on the table, but from a separate supply that seemingly charged from the gravitational and electromagnetic fields of the planet the battery was on.

  Electronics skill increased to level one hundred one!

  Four minutes later, the multicolored Kirsan went into motion, took out the Universal Translator and rendered verdict, gesticulating with its whiskers and hands all the while. And at that I was gradually starting to notice a correlation between the gestures of the Kirsan’s three upper limbs and the broken phrases coming out of the translator:

  “Can be. Done. But efficacy will fall. Rare item’s bonuses will be reduced. Shall we get started?”

  Astrolinguistics skill increased to level one hundred nine!

  I asked whether it would be possible to restore the default characteristics later. The response was unambiguous — no. Reducing the requirements would mean reducing efficacy, and that change would be permanent. Damn, frustrating. I didn’t want the ancient artifact to permanently lose power. I took a deep sigh... and nevertheless agreed. Better to be able to use the Tachyon Bender now, even if it was slightly diminished, than to go the whole war without it. I was about to leave. I had even turned around and taken a few steps toward the door, figuring the bots would now be busy with the difficult task for a while, but the multicolored Kirsan called out to me right away:

  “Captain. Ready. Program reflashed. Some components removed. Here. Your item.”

  I turned incredulously, but the rectangular metal box was in fact already reassembled and lying on the table:

  Tachyon bender (accessory for Devourer armor).

  Creates a 7-inch-wide time-delay cocoon around the player for a duration of 1 second (level-2 modifications such as this require permission from the Relict hierarchs to install) * permission confirmed.

  Required class: Inquirer, Listener, Punisher, Devourer.

  Statistic requirements: Level 107, Intelligence 33, Perception 33.

  Skill requirements: Medium Armor 100, Electronics 100, Eagle Eye 100, Danger Sense 100.

  Attention! Your character’s level is not high enough to use this object.

  The last line of the description just slayed me. No, for real. These Kirsans had to have been mocking me! Was it really not possible to bring the level requirement down one more so their captain could use the ancient artifact right away?! That way I could use my new hardware at tomorrow’s training session, which would come in very handy — without a way of slowing down time, I saw no way of hurting the high-level Morphian, who moved faster than a bullet. But obviously the repair bots had done everything in their power. I didn’t try to demand the impossible, thanked the Kirsans for their work and collected the Tachyon Bender.

  I opened my character’s inventory window and discovered much to my surprise that I could already attach the Tachyon Bender in the place of my oxygen tank. Honestly though, the game did include the following warning:

  Attention! Your character does not fully meet the requirements to use this object. Tachyon Bender performance reduced by 40%.

  Not fully? Oh well, that wasn’t such a big deal. I was more bothered by the fact I had to now choose between a pressurized suit for working in a vacuum or corrosive environment, and the ability to play some tricks with time. Given I was now on my home pla
net and the atmosphere was breathable, I kept the Tachyon Bender installed.

  There was one more matter keeping me in the game. In a quarter ummi, a high-speed interstellar Geckho liner would be arriving to the Solar System and I needed to be at the spaceport to greet its landing model, or rather a special guest who would be coming in it. Unfortunately, I could not just have someone else handle this meeting — it was a very personal matter, and this guest was extremely finicky. I had put too much effort into inviting them to this backwater on the edge of known space, so it would be very frustrating if something were suddenly not to my guest’s liking and all our hard-won understandings came unraveled.

  I had to admit, I would never in my life have guessed that my business partner Gerd Uline Tar would get a wedding gift quite like this. The twin brothers Vasha and Basha Tushihh, who I went to two weeks prior for advice, had both wracked their brains to find “just the thing,” something memorable to both bride and groom that would delight them both. After a day of thinking it through, the brothers came up with an intriguing option: invite the most famous stylist of the Geckho race here from the capital planet Shiharsa, Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth, who’s specialty was luxurious wedding attire and bridal fur patterns. The main issue was that the schedule of such a trendy stylist was booked out a tong and a half in advance, and so I had to call him for a personal talk.

  Honestly, it was no easy task just to wrangle such a busy and fussy star into long-distance call, and even harder to reach an arrangement. The coming of the Relict Urgeh Pu-Pu Urgeh, which had been broadcast throughout the galaxy, was a great help. It was the only reason in fact that the fashion star even agreed to talk to me — he had seen me on the news. In the end, I managed to reach an agreement without even using too many Magic Points. Now of course I didn’t get by without any Psionics but, in this case, the mana was bringing down the size of the mountain of monetary crystals I was shelling out to have the prominent figure fly all the way out here. Of course, it cost me a pretty penny. And I had to buy luxury liner tickets for the famed figure and his twenty assistants, plus pay a last-minute cancellation fee to two other marrying couples.

  THE ARRIVAL OF THE passenger liner from the capital system of Shiharsa was delayed, and I was already starting to nod off in the dispatcher tower’s automatic restaurant. Even an invigorating beverage was no help. And that was exactly where I was found by the leader of the Human-3 Faction Igor Tarasov, who raced into the spaceport all in a lather:

  “Gnat, what is going on?! My faction was refused a shipment of armor and weaponry we bought in space! All the Geckho told me to take it up with you, saying a hold has been placed. Furthermore, they didn’t even want to let me enter the dispatcher tower! This must be a screw-up!”

  Straining to unstick my eyelids, I tried to turn on my flagging brain.

  “Wait, wait!” I had seemingly guessed the reason this was happening. “Igor, are you trying to say that the H3 Faction has joined the Terrestrial Coalition?”

  “Yes, and what of it?” he asked in surprise. “The curators told you during your talk that they had received a proposal to work in tandem with a coalition of several factions representing some very powerful countries on our planet. And I see nothing strange in the fact that we agreed.”

  Hmm... Things had gone off the rails. I pointed at an armchair opposite me and offered him a seat. I then stood up, walked over to the vending machine and got two self-heating cans of a very sour beverage that restored Endurance Points and staved off exhaustion. I extended one to Leng Tarasov:

  “Here, now some day you can tell your grandchildren that the Kung of Earth once served you in a restaurant.”

  Seemingly, Leng Tarasov only read my character info after that because his face immediately looked surprised and even baffled. I considered it a good opportunity to describe things from my perspective:

  “You see, the Terrestrial Coalition sent an ultimatum saying they were planning to sabotage the draft for the unified army of Earth. What, didn’t you know that? Really?”

  That made him look obviously afraid and shake his head, admitting his ignorance. And he didn’t seem to be lying. I though kept escalating:

  “Yes, that pointed political move on the part of the Coalition was nothing short of an attempt to depose the newly declared Kung and Kosta Dykhsh in one fell swoop, then replace us with players loyal to them. Because Kosta Dykhsh and I in this case have the same mission, and we are the ones the Geckho rulers Krong Daveyesh-Pir and Third Strike Fleet Commander Kung Waid Shishish will be flaying alive if we mess up their plans by failing to muster enough troops.”

  I took a sip of the already warm drink, winced at the sour flavor, but powered through and took one more sip. My sleepiness disappeared without a trace.

  “However, the Coalition miscalculated. I can get as many troops as I need. And I’ll do it even without these dissenting factions! And Viceroy Kosta Dykhsh will not only retain his post but will even be in favor with his leadership. And then, don’t you doubt it, the Viceroy will remember everyone who tried to get him unseated, and he will unleash his rage upon them! So, the Human-3 Faction has committed a suicidal political mistake...”

  “What do you mean?” the faction head asked in surprise, not agreeing. “We were one of the first factions to answer the suzerains’ call and send fifteen hundred troops to the burgeoning army of Earth!”

  I sat back on the little sofa and shook my head in reproach:

  “Igor, it’s time for you to make up your mind — is the H3 Faction with the Kung of humanity, or against him? And then it’s like they say: ‘either shit or get off the pot.’ If the faction you lead decides in favor of the Geckho Viceroy and Kung of Earth, how can there be any talk of joining the Terrestrial Coalition? And if you end up going the other way, don’t act surprised when you find yourself hit with sanctions. And bear in mind, the prohibition on trade with the so-called Terrestrial Coalition is just the first step, a fairly light-handed attempt to teach its rogue leaders a lesson. We will only be getting harsher. We could go so far as to limit the number and level of nodes under your control.”

  Tarasov removed his beret and placed it on the table, revealing a cleanshaven head covered with sweat. He kept silent a bit, then slammed his fist down on the table and exclaimed in dismay:

  “That’s what you get for not having an experienced Diplomat in your faction! That week-old newcomer didn’t understand the situation and made the wrong move... After all, I definitely remember that you were told during the talk with the curators that the Human-3 Faction would be willing to work with the new Kung. I mean, you heard it yourself, Gnat!”

  I confirmed that I remembered that well. And at the same time, I saw an ideal opportunity to make good on my favor to the Viceroy and talk about the disgraced Ivan Lozovsky:

  “This seems like a good time to remind the Human-3 Faction of a player both of us know well, but who has been all but banned from the game. Gerd Ivan Lozovsky is an experienced Diplomat as well as a close friend of Viceroy Kosta Dykhsh. He could address the diplomatic imbalance. Then the hold will be taken off the shipment and it will be returned to you. The rest of your eight million in space imports will not be put on hold either. Furthermore...”

  I had to fall silent midsentence, because the spaceport dispatcher had just announced the landing of the Uvashi III passenger liner’s landing module. I stood up, preparing to go out to meet the important guest. But first, I asked Leng Tarasov one last question:

  “Igor, I don’t want to seem like I’m sticking my nose into your faction’s business, but the day after tomorrow... well actually tomorrow by this point is Kosta Dykhsh’s wedding. Have you got a gift ready for the representative of the Geckho on our planet? Something worthy of such an occasion?”

  Based on the way the faction leader’s face stretched out in surprise, Leng Tarasov was hearing about the upcoming celebration for the first time. I shook my head in reproach and repeated what I said about Ivan Lozovsky needing to return — the expe
rienced Diplomat would surely not have missed the wedding of his influential and furry friend.

  On my way out, I opened the diplomatic actions tab and sent the bewildered Tarasov an invitation for his faction to join the Army of Earth alliance.

  “Here, consider this your homework. I don’t know how you’ll wriggle your way out of the agreements you signed with the Terrestrial Coalition but joining this alliance would be a way for your faction to make peace with Kosta Dykhsh and get all the sanctions removed instantly. Obviously, the decision will have to be discussed with the other directors and curators. But nevertheless, I advise you not to take too long to respond. As it stands, your shipments could get confiscated and auctioned off as contraband!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine. Safe Haven

  NO, I OF COURSE I could have predicted that indulging all the whims of the recently arrived galactic stylist might be a difficult undertaking. However, I severely underestimated the scale of the problem. For one, you see, our spaceport was just too basic and rough for Gerd Fuhh-Yuboth. There were also no throngs of fans waiting to greet him. On top of that, a luxury flying shuttle of some specific rare model did not land right at the gangway of the landing module (and it turned out the receiving party was supposed to know about that, even though nobody told me). He further had to suffer the indignity of breathing unfiltered air, it was about to rain, and it did not behoove him to even so much as walk fifty steps to the shuttle we did in fact send. An endless, and constantly growing list of complaints and whims...