“Is the recording ready?”
“Yes milady.”
“Wonderful! It’s time to get rid of this freak! Intercept the broadcast!”
Once again we saw the room in which Hilvar had been speaking initially. Only now it was a different camera recording. We could clearly see how the pirates dragged in Hilvar and, using their manipulators, turned him into a puppet. I have to say they did it quite professionally. One held the body, the other worked his hands, and the third controlled his head. Arcana launched the voice recording herself. The entire performance was done so smoothly that it was evident that it had been rehearsed a dozen times at least.
The camera changed again, to the cafeteria. Then the repair docks, the engineering bay, the central warehouse from various angles, then endless doors and corridors…Until the video recordings of all twenty cameras had played out, not a single pirate of those present so much as twitched. Everyone was silently digesting what they had seen. When the last three minute clip ended, Mercaloun’s gift melted into the air with a soft pop.
“You jealous bitch,” said the Corsican in an icy voice, causing just about everyone to shudder. My self-defense instinct went off and I backpedaled, looking for cover in case the council descended into a firefight.
“It’s your own fault!” responded Arcana, trying to get up — only to be restrained by the Corsican’s bodyguards, hovering over her. “You granted him too much power. He had become your equal! Sooner or later he would have rebelled! Why didn’t you feed him to the Scourge like everyone else? Why did you merely exile him? I had calculated everything!”
“Surgeon, let me have one of your Zatrathi grenades,” said the Corsican in the same icy voice. I did as he asked, tossing the weapon straight into the hands of the head of the Jolly Roger.
“You wouldn’t dare! I was always beside you!” screamed Arcana. The bodyguards lost no time and handcuffed her. The Precian struggled like a fish, but it was all in vain. The Corsican stood up, walked up to the wall and kicked aside a beautiful, carved nightstand. Under it was a grate, which the pirate pulled aside. The Corsican’s eyes glowed aggro red. His upper lip trembled in anger, exposing his sharp fangs. With a gesture the pirate ordered the guards to throw Arcana into the pit. The Precian began begging for mercy but the Corsican was deaf to her pleas. The former favorite flew into the dungeon, and the pirate tossed the grenade in after her. There was the bang of an explosion, and the face of the Delvian turned into an impenetrable mask, smoothing out all emotion. There was no doubt that Arcana had been intimately close to the head of the pirates, but he could not do otherwise. It was either this or the risk of losing his authority. Such a betrayal could not be forgiven.
“Now you,” the Corsican’s gaze alighted on Tryd.
“I was faithful to her in life. I won’t betray her now that she’s gone,” the pirate met his boss’s gaze. The guards clapped their hands on the shoulders of the mangled fox, but as they did so his mouth erupted with foam. Clutching his throat, the Delvian managed to wheeze: “You’re too late, Corsican. We’ll meet again!”
The body convulsed, and after a couple of moments, a loot crate was all that remained of Tryd. The cunning veteran had managed escape the line of fire without losing anything. The Corsican’s gaze shifted heavily to me. He did not look pleased.
“What happened at the base?” Each word came out like it was cast with lead.
Confronted by the Corsican, I wanted to fall to my knees and spill everything I knew. Even stuff I didn’t know, reinforcing my story with loot, money and the orbship. Resisting took a lot of energy, so I responded slowly, carefully choosing my words.
“I need the Lora.”
Three words. But they cost me quite a bit of effort, as if I had run ten kilometers at a good pace. Sweat stung my eyes, a stream of it flowed down my back, my legs wavered under me, and I wanted to slump into my chair and admit my defeat — yet I held on. Until the last — until I had red spots in my eyes and a dozen debuffs. I held on, for I understood very well that my fate as a pirate was about to be decided.
Your rapport with the Corsican has grown. Current Rapport: 20000
Your rapport with Hilvar has grown. Current Rapport: 20000.
Mission accomplished: In Search of Cause. You have been promoted to pirate rank three.
You have received permanent access to the Silmar system, the rank of lieutenant of the Jolly Roger Brotherhood, and the right to represent the Brotherhood’s interests at a pirate assembly.
Mission accomplished: Pirate University. Speak with Tryd.
“Very well. Now you are one of us. You may sit down.” The Corsican gestured at Tryd’s former seat. Kiddo did not take her eyes off the shimmering crate, obviously intent on pocketing what the fox had dropped, but I beat her to it.
Several powercells, a set of clothes no one needed and an envelope with a promising inscription: ‘For Surgeon.’ This came as a surprise. As soon as I picked it up, the envelope identified me and hissed like a discharged cracker. I quickly dumped its contents into my inventory, without getting a chance to examine them.
“I do not have the Lora, so you won’t get what you want.” The impassive mask suited the Corsican well. He looked like an Egyptian pharaoh, who had descended to speak with his slaves. Majestic and untouchable. “I will however explain to you why it is important for us to understand what happened to the base. The Anorxians are the only Galactogon empire with which we had a partnership. We supplied the synthoids with technology, they provided us with repairs. Everyone was happy. Many years ago, their Motherboard suffered a general page fault, a grave error — and this led to the birth of Prince Northbridge: a device that contained an unregistered code. The Motherhood already had a son you see, and the new prince was a headache for the synthoids. Then Anorxian renegades kidnapped the prince in an attempt to overthrow their old ruler. We intercepted the ship and recovered the prince, but we did not have time to return him to his Motherboard. The rebels constantly harassed us. Then there was a rift with the Motherboard because of what Hilvar had said…well…because of Arcana’s betrayal, I should say. The base was captured, and you just said that it was destroyed. I want to know what happened and how I should respond to it. I need…We need to re-establish relations with the Anorxians. Without their help, the pirates will not last long.”
Articulate and plausible. A direct appeal to my nobility, a reference to the interests of the Brotherhood, the recognition of personal desires. Not so much a speech as a guide for suppressing my player’s instinct in favor of the NPCs’ interests.
“We could discuss another form of compensation,” I agreed. “I need the Uldan coordinate converter. I know that you have such a device. I’ll be happy to tell you what I know in exchange for a chance to use it.”
A crack appeared in the Delvian’s mask. The head of the pirates bared his fangs, demonstrating that even mighty beings like him are subject to emotions. I ignored these clear signs of aggression and added:
“Want to know who the Scourge really is and how she manages to disrupt planetary bindings? Do you want to get items from the third warehouse? That piece of wood was not the only item I extracted from there.”
“The prince?” Hilvar leaned forward, unable to conceal his excitement.
“There were too many explosives on the cube, so my drones left it on the pedestal,” I replied, without actually lying. Frequently an incomplete truth is more dangerous than a bald-faced lie.
“So the prince is dead?” The Pyrrhenian frowned, leaning back in his chair. I was forced to maintain their interest.
“I don’t know that. But I do know for sure that the Scourge never touched the Anorxian. Grant me access to the coordinate converter and I will tell you everything.”
“The converter is on my homeplanet,” the Corsican replied after a long pause. “I won’t let anyone there. Ask for a different reward, human!”
The Delvian’s expression boded nothing good. I was about to open my mouth to ply my
line when Kiddo reminded us of her presence:
“Perhaps I can offer a way out. Surgeon does not have to travel to your planet, boss. He needs the device — merely give him the opportunity to use it. Remotely. Let your servants be his hands and eyes. Let them do everything and share the result with Surgeon. You need only guarantee that you will not use the data obtained. Furnish him with a secure comm channel and the problem will be solved. Everyone will get what they want, and the location of your homeworld will remain a secret.”
The pirates began to whisper among each other, periodically glancing at Kiddo. I had to admit that the solution seemed reasonable enough.
“A word!” The Corsican re-donned his mask of stoicism. “What happened with the base?”
“Words cannot convey everything. I would have to show you,” I said, taking out a memory cube with the video Eunice had recorded. The footage included everything from our deal with Tryd, to the flying fortress, the gratitude of Mercaloun and the retrieval of the items from the base’s warehouse. Eunice hadn’t finished editing her episode yet, which was just as well as I needed the full, raw footage. I needed the Lora, and I knew what I could exchange for it. It was not in my interest to hand over the prince to the pirates at the moment.
“When the explosion took place, we were loading the items onto our ship. Mercaloun said that the base was no longer there and that she would seek a new lair. She did not have time to gobble up the warehouse and it’s not like she needed that anyway. She has enough food for many years now.”
“The prince is alive,” announced Hilvar categorically. “The cube cannot be destroyed by a mere explosion. I designed it myself! If the Scourge did not devour it, then it can be recovered and we can forge our alliance with the Anorxian Empire anew.”
At this point an active quarrel broke out among the council. The pirates were discussing various options for how to reach Shurtan and recover the prince. I had to cool their expectations a bit:
“As we were leaving, four Zatrathi flying fortresses arrived to reinforce the Shurtan system. Keep this in mind as you make your plans.”
The silence indicated that I had been heard. Everyone understood the combat power of the Zatrathi ships. Finally, having waited out the long pause, the Corsican turned to Hilvar, placed a Jolly Roger token on the table and slid it over to the Pyrrhenian.
“I was wrong.”
Hilvar did not take his eyes off the token, considering his response. At last, he replied:
“You owe me a case of Walden Whiskey and an evening to drink it with me. We have much to discuss…boss.”
With these words, the Pyrrhenian picked up the token and an icon of a grinning skull appeared over his head. The Brotherhood of the pirates had been reunited. The rest of the meeting was a matter of routine. Some guild had declared war on the Brotherhood, the profits from the mining planets had to be divided, the membership numbers had to be extrapolated, ships had to be repaired and other details had to be dealt with — to the point that I started dozing off. I signed up to be a pirate, not an office manager — this stuff was not interesting to me.
When everyone began to disperse, Kiddo took me aside and said:
“I want you to know: I have very good connections in the Anorxian Empire. The Motherboard and the CPU itself will be very grateful for anyone who recovers their child. But you won’t be able to see them without my help. The Anorxians don’t like pirates, to put it mildly.”
“So you’re an exception?” I grunted. “You’re mistaken, Marina. I don’t have the prince.”
“Alex, I know you much too well.” Kiddo placed her hand on my chest and leaned forward, maintaining eye contact. “You would never leave without him, partner. Tell me, you didn’t happen to record the video of the explosion itself? Or did you record it after all and merely kept it from the boss?”
“This conversation is not for Galactogon,” I replied, seeing that the Corsican’s bodyguard was waiting for me. My teleconference with the Corsican’s servants was scheduled in half an hour and the bodyguard was waiting to escort me there. The only thing I couldn’t be sure of was whether the escort was supposed to be a form of courtesy, a form of security or simply an extra pair of ears.
“Anytime you like, darling!” Marina followed my eyes and read the situation accurately. “I will be waiting.” The girl went about her business, leaving me alone. Making sure that no one else had any complaints or requests for me, I took out Tryd’s envelope. It opened on its own, ejecting a small piece of paper with a self-destruct system. Carefully deactivating it, I unfolded the note:
“If you are reading this, small fry, then everything went as planned. That Arcana bitch is dead! She deserved no less. Do not even think of giving up the prince! This pirate rabble has no idea what to do with him. I’ll be waiting for you on Belket, at the location we met last time. You have one day to see me. I have a mission for you and the reward really is the Lora this time. Tryd.
Chapter Thirteen
Piracy can be a lucrative business. Assuming, of course, you are ready to wager everything on a single card and win! I had run a great risk and bet everything: Brainiac, Warlock, my planetary binding, my career as a pirate and thus basically my whole game avatar. And the digital Ying and Yang — the RNG duality of 0 XOR 1 — had favored me, giving me confidence in the accuracy of my decisions. Even if it was temporary, I still reveled in my triumph. These are the moments that gamers like me live for — these are the reasons we immerse ourselves so deeply into virtual worlds and forge new paths through the obstacles we find there! For this feeling of glory and this joy of victory!
The pirates gathered around the orbship in the hopes of reclaiming any belongings that we had recovered from the base on Shurtan. The only problem was that Eunice was in no hurry to part with the items. Considering how quickly her reputation was growing among the pirates, my wife was doing the right thing. In the end, it got to the point that the newly-reappointed deputy of the Jolly Roger — Hilvar, that is — swore loudly, hovered over to Eunice, hugged her like a sister and handed her a token of a Brotherhood lieutenant. For her bargaining skill alone, the pirates recognized my wife’s right to be one of them.
Several hours later, I was staring with open glee at several dozen Rialto Bracelets in my inventory. A pirate’s dream come true. Now I can rob not only the locals but other players too. I had a burning desire to test the handcuffs out in the privacy of our homeworld, but reason prevailed. Business first, then entertainment. The Corsican’s servants helped me decode the message from the base and now Brainiac had the right Uldan coordinates. The only snag was that the Corsican instantly spoiled my suspense about what was located at those coordinates.
“Oh I know where that is. You’re wasting your time. That place is death trap and nothing more.”
This was bad news, but also accurate. The Uldan coordinates pointed to one of the few black holes in Galactogon. Unlike the real thing, black holes in VR had many limitations. For example, player ships could never actually reach their event horizons. The high gradient of gravitational forces would rip them apart long before. Meanwhile, the locals had no problems reaching the horizon and even the singularity, turning their ships into long thin lines that were no longer subject to ordinary physical laws. Then again, no one had ever returned from a flight like that — not even by respawning. The Corsican bombarded me with terminology like a physics PhD who had cornered one of his underperforming students. By the end of his lecture, I actually understood the workings of a black hole less than ever.
“Will I survive?”
“No,” answered the Corsican. “No one has managed to live yet — even your orbship won’t save you. This is me telling you this — the Corsican himself! I took over the Jolly Roger after the last guy was dumb enough to stick himself into a similar black hole! But if you want to chance it, go right ahead! You’ve been warned.”
Now completely befuddled, I returned to Warlock. By this point, Eunice had bartered off everything we’d
found at the warehouse, thereby improving not so much our gaming account, as our supplies. The pirates hauled anything that could serve our orbship or armor suits for barter — as well as all kinds of odd and incomprehensible devices and equipment. The new pirate lady gladly flipped our dead weight for these items. And yet Eunice would have been a bad player if she accepted all their curiosities indiscriminately. Thus, the engineer had final say over whether to accept a trade or not.
“I need Eine. Set up a meeting with him,” Eunice asked, reviewing our new acquisitions.
“Why Eine?” I asked with surprise, skeptically looking over our new ‘riches.’ “I doubt you’ll find anything truly rare or valuable here.”
“Well, don’t tell me, hubby,” Eunice snickered and poked at the first thing her eyes encountered. “This, for example, will allow our armor to survive up to three EM grenades. I don’t recall Hansa ever boasting about such a capability.”
A Check for a Billion Page 21
