“Please, make yourself at home.” The door opened and Tryd let his new guest in ahead of himself.
“Thank you,” answered Eunice. She sat down beside me and asked in a whisper: “What’d you agree to?”
I had to explain that there had been no negotiations as of yet. Tryd settled himself across from us and declared:
“We’re just waiting for someone else to join us. He’ll be here any minute now. We must wait.”
I’d never seen the fox look so happy before. He radiated joy and happiness. It was as if he’d managed to set up a couple hundred players and make a hefty profit in the process. A short while later, the door opened and another participant joined us. Still dry and weak from his three-year-ordeal, yet now clean and well-dressed, this was the first mate of Captain Wit-Verr — Gloom the Precian.
“It’s not so easy to get on Belket these days.” The pirate’s voice has not yet regained its strength, and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
“A temporary inconvenience,” said Tryd. “Recently, a henchman of the Corsican visited the Qualian trade planet and almost razed it to the ground. Everyone has rushed to tighten security in response. In a year or two, their attention will start to lapse again and everything will become as before.”
“If someone does not find a way to repeat the trick again. Anyway, I have little time and energy. Let’s get to the point without further delay.”
Two badges of the Jolly Roger Brotherhood smacked the table in front of us.
“These are rightfully yours, Major Surgeon and Lieutenant Nurse. Whether you accept them or not is up to you. No one insists. But you do need to make the choice. Here and now.”
“The Brotherhood is no more,” Eunice objected without taking her eyes off the badges. But Gloom merely grinned:
“The captain started a new one. The old one had compromised itself. The Corsican and Hilvar forgot what the Brotherhood had been created for. They became mired in squabbles, luxury and hatred towards each other.”
“We need time.”
“You can have a day, even less actually. We need to know exactly who is with us.”
A second, red countdown timer appeared next to the Precian adviser’s one. Remarkably, both showed exactly the same time remaining.
“Anyone want to explain what’s going on? Why did Gloom come to the meeting?”
Tryd glanced at the first mate, and Gloom nodded: “They deserve the truth. They have earned it.”
“That remains arguable but I will do as you command.” At least Tryd’s nasty character remained a reassuring constant in this quickly changing world. “I am Tryd. The former second mate of Captain Wit-Verr. For several reasons, I was not on the ship when the captain set forth to investigate the black hole.”
“Speak directly and completely,” ordered Gloom, and the fox grimaced with displeasure.
“The captain expelled me. The reasons are not important.” Tryd paused and looked at the Pyrrhenian defiantly, who nodded in agreement. “Since I was no longer part of the crew, I didn’t fall into the trap. Only the son of the Delvian Emperor himself had the means, influence, opportunity and desire to get rid of Wit-Verr and become the leader of the Brotherhood. Three ships set out to investigate the black hole and only two of them returned. The Corsican and Hilvar.”
‘I know where it is. You’re wasting your time. That is a deadly place,’ the ex-head of the Jolly Roger had said to me. Galactogon’s not such a small place that someone could remember the coordinates of a single location in space. So the Corsican had surely been in the vicinity of the black hole and Tryd’s story is likely to be true. But only ‘likely’ because I’m not about to trust anyone in this game ever again. The pirates have fully justify their name. They are lying, arrogant thieves. Does it really make sense to become one of them? I imagine business would be a bit more reliable with the Precians.
“Before vanishing, Wit-Verr managed to send me a message. An order. I was to do everything I could to get him out of the black hole. This required good relations with the Anorxians. The synthoids were the most advanced in the matter of studying these spatial anomalies. Their empire encompassed three such black holes. I got a job with the Corsican to somehow influence the Brotherhood’s politics. In time, I became one of its best and most influential members. I even almost managed to resolve the issue with the Prince, but then pirate Surgeon showed up and everything started going haywire. All my cunning plans went down the drain.”
“You were sitting on Daphark, not moving so much as a whisker,” I reminded the fox.
“Did it not occur to you why I was on the same planet as that crystal? You were ever a brainless small fry, and so you’ve remained. I am opposed to promoting him to Major! He is not worthy. Nurse — yes. She is smart, cool-blooded and appropriately ambitious. A true lieutenant. Surgeon — no. That is my opinion.”
“Are you trying to dispute the captain’s decision?” Gloom glanced at the fox heavily, but the Delvian refused to be cowed. He could withstand even the look of this creature who had escaped death.
“I am a free pirate until I am accepted back into the fold. You can’t bar me from speaking my mind about whatever I wish.”
“This is true,” Gloom backed down.
A pause followed.
“This is all very interesting and fascinating, of course, but I am not here to listen to your tales. You promised me the Lora in exchange for the Anorxian Prince. Here he is — signed, sealed, delivered.”
I placed the cube on the table.
“An ally like this will be useful to us,” Gloom responded, but Tryd only snorted:
“It won’t do, small fry! I needed the prince to bargain with the Anorxians. Wit-Verr is free, so there’s nothing to bargain for now.”
“We need the Anorxians, Tryd,” Gloom reiterated with urgency.
“If you need him, you can buy him. I don’t need him anymore. My job’s done. No, small fry, this won’t do. If you want to get the Lora, you’ll have to do something for me personally!”
“Are you kidding?” Eunice’s patience gave out. “You lured us to our slaughter for the Scourge, put us in harm’s way, abandoned us like a cheap, two-bit traitor and without so much as dropping us a hint about what to do next and now here you are insisting on your rights?!”
“Bridle your wench, Surgeon. I don’t work with her.”
The hormones won out and a Zatrathi grenade appeared in Eunice’s hands — the kind that broke planetary bindings. Vardun almost drew but Tryd gestured for him to remain in place. Looking at my wife with contempt, the Delvian growled:
“You really think that I still haven’t thought of a countermeasure to that toy? You are dumb and naïve! I take my words back. You are not worthy of the rank of lieutenant. A female true to form.”
That was enough for Eunice to pull the pin and toss the grenade at the fox. The only hitch was that she never had time to. A thin red beam from the ceiling struck the grenade and Tryd deftly caught the harmless device. Spinning it in his paws, he lobbed it back at Eunice.
“No need to litter in my place. You’re not at home! And don’t come back here again. I won’t let you in.”
Eunice blushed like a boiled lobster, ready to blow herself up just to destroy the offensive NPC. Our eyes met and the levee broke. Covering her face with her hands, my wife burst into tears, pouring out her pent up emotions. Oh come on! Why do pregnant women go from ‘I am positive, mindful and constructive!’ to ‘Don’t you dare give me any of you attitude, pig!’ or to ‘Oh this poor little helpless bug!’ at the speed of light?! Deciding that I would deal with my wife after I had dealt with the Delvian, I asked:
“So what do you want, pirate Tryd?”
“Call me Captain Tryd,” the fox leered revoltingly. “Like any captain, I need a ship. A cruiser, but I still haven’t decided which one. Either the Alexandria or the Inevitable. Bring me the access key from either one and you will get the Lora in return. I’ve said my piece! You can deal with the Prince b
etween yourself. I don’t care about him!”
Mission failed: A Prince fit for a Pirate’s Soul.
Mission available: The Education of Captain Tryd. Description: Capture either the Cruiser Alexandria or Cruiser Inevitable and give the ship access key to Tryd. Reward for completion: Lora coupler unit.
Chapter Eighteen
Hi! Rumor has it that there are beacons that allow one to track a ship traveling in hyperspace and thus pull it out of hyperspace. And also, that the Belket system is surrounded by about fourteen cruisers. Kiddo isn’t in a stingy mood: She could easily pull up more cruisers and picket the entire system in a sphere. And you, of course, haven’t received this letter and, if you happen to fly through the sector watched over by our mutual friend, make sure to announce your surprise and outrage loudly on the public channel.
Your buddy, Gammon.
My old partner found one of the most ancient ways to apprise me of the news: A paper letter delivered by courier. A player courier from another empire. It remained a mystery to me why Gammon hadn’t simply called me, preferring this odd form of communication. But since he did not call, I supposed he had a good reason for it.
“She’s signed her own death sentence,” Eunice murmured loud enough to be sure that I’d heard her. After our meeting with Tryd, my wife needed a punching bag and Kiddo’s appearance was just the thing. “Brainiac, where’s that damn beacon?”
“Captain, I don’t detect anything. Our hull is clean. Maybe this is ruse?”
“No. Remember how carefully the Precians searched us. Kiddo has good relations with them. She could easily have made a deal with their customs officers.”
“Yeah…Also, they checked us before departure,” my wife added. “They could have placed the beacon inside, not outside.”
“What?!” Brainiac realized the deceit that players were capable of. These aren’t mere locals following their ordinary AI scripts. “They’ve planted a bug on my Warlock?”
The computer began running a full inspection, but I had no doubt that he wouldn’t find anything. The beacon would turn on only once we’d entered hyperspace. No sooner. At the moment it is deactivated and hidden somewhere under some bucket or mop.
“Do you believe him?”
“No more than the rest. We worked together, but it wasn’t anything more than that.”
“Could this be a setup?”
“Sure. But it also fits Kiddo’s M.O. She was pretty angry.”
“Do we have serious problems then?” Worry flashed in Eunice’s voice.
“What makes you think that?” I asked, surprised. “So they yank us out of hyperspace — so what? We’ll just fly away.”
Kiddo’s approach were reasonable enough — under the assumption that she was dealing with an ordinary ship. Yank us out of hyperspace, fry our electronics with EM cannons, board and capture us and then rewrite Warlock to Kiddo’s name. An ordinary hyperspace ambush, which could be adapted even to my orbship — before my last upgrades, that is. As I recall, Kiddo only knew of my old ship’s capabilities. It’ll be fun to see her reaction when she realizes that she has nothing to go up against my current Warlock. I wasn’t thinking so much about how to avoid her cruisers, as where to go in general. The last thing I wanted was to suggest to the pirate captain now actively after my head what quadrant my planet was located in. Kiddo was easily capable of arranging some dragnet just to hurt me a little more.
“Shall we visit Mercaloun?” Eunice suggested after I shared my reservations with her. “We can make a run for the atmosphere. They won’t be able to reach us once we’re planetside. We need to solve Belmarad’s riddles one way or another.”
“Makes sense. Brainiac, set course for Shurtan. Activate recon mode.”
We weren’t risking anything. I had handed the Prince over to Gloom, who promised to get me a nice bonus from Wit-Verr in return, so there was nothing valuable in our cargo hold. As soon as the stars turned into long light lines, the ship computer announced happily:
“I have located the bug! The beacon has been destroyed! Warning, I am detecting an active hyperspace scan. Our hyperdrive is being disrupted! Exiting hyperspace in three…two…one…Threat detected! We are under attack!”
“Shields are up! I am detecting a hyperdrive disruptor. There are multiple EM cannons tracking us. Fire incoming!”
The captain of Cruiser Kerbal didn’t waste time on pleasantries. As soon as his fishing rod pulled us out of hyperspace, a powerful EM broadside slammed into our ship. But the lights in the cabin didn’t so much as blink — with the orbship’s new capabilities, the enemy couldn’t do a thing to us.
“Brainiac, set throttle to eighty. Maintain heading for Shur…tan.”
I spoke the last syllable in complete silence and darkness. Another EM broadside raked our ship and this time Warlock couldn’t cope. It took me several seconds to swap out the elo and reset my armor suit, but all my efforts came to naught — the screens barely came on before everything went dark again. The orbship had been hit by another EM wave. Another swapping of the powercells — a reset — and again darkness. I repeated this procedure two more times before I finally understood — we were trapped. Kerbal’s captain went on frying my ship’s electronics with terrifying regularity and accuracy. I decided to wait for the next salvo and eject myself from the armor, but I didn’t have time. A message appeared before my eyes:
You have been killed by Nurse.
Respawn point: Blood Island.
Eunice appeared beside me just as the world was beginning to regain its sharpness.
“We’ll have to re-upgrade to legendary class.” Instead of an explanation, she pulled my armor suit out of her inventory. By killing me, she had knocked off a level of my armor and now though it still looked pretty rad on me, it was a mere A-class suit.
“What happened to Warlock?”
“She’s at the graveyard. I blew her up.”
“How?” I asked surprised. “There were only like ten seconds between broadsides!”
Eunice’s mysterious smile forced me to think a little.
“You went through with that elo implant in your forearms? You could have been torn apart!”
“But I wasn’t torn apart. I felt like it would come in handy. But you know, hubby, you’re not asking about the right thing. Why don’t you ask why that cruiser was shooting so fast?”
I was curious about that too, but I had no idea what the answer could be.
“This is what Brainiac managed to see before he disconnected…” My wife sent me a screenshot. As we emerged from hyperspace, the computer ran an automatic scan to assess the size and composition of the ambush. A hyperdrive disruptor always pulled the victim out of hyperspace facing its assailant. Right before we lost power, Brainiac had generated a situation report of the space around us — and it was this report that was captured in the screenshot.
As expected, Kerbal hung in front of us, precisely where she should have been. And yet, not far away and behind us, was another vessel that had not been involved in pulling us out of our hyperjump. When I saw the name of our second assailant, my chest tightened and I began to breathe quickly. It was none other than Captain Aalor and his Cruiser Inevitable in person. The EM cannons of a Legendary-class cruiser would certainly overwhelm our countermeasures.
“What the hell?” I snapped.
“That’s the right question all right, but you haven’t formulated it properly. The fact that Aalor positioned himself to intercept us means that he knew that we were making a break for Shurtan! The proper question to ask then is: ‘How the hell did he know what we decided to do at the very last minute?’”
Eunice sure did know how to ask an unpleasant question. I took out the note supposedly written by Gammon and struggled to keep myself from crumpling and tearing it to pieces. They’d played us like toddlers! The Precian adviser had told them about the riddles and mentioned that one of them concerned Mercaloun. Kiddo knew who she was and where to look for her — and thus it had
just been a matter of technique and run-of-the-mill psychology. It’s not pleasant to discover that someone saw through you. If it weren’t for Eunice’s elo implants, Liberium could have captured Warlock for good. Would Vargen give her back to me? Not in a million years.
My wife and I walked out to a clearing and lay down on the grass, fixing our eyes on the sky. Our orbship was somewhere out there in a ship graveyard. Our other ship, the fighter, was on Belket. We didn’t know how to fly on our own. And we couldn’t ask Stan to hire some freelancer. Our current situation could only be described as ‘up the creek without a paddle.’ I hadn’t been here in a long time and I’d even forgotten all about how ‘nice’ it was here.
A Check for a Billion Page 29
