Brainiac woke me up at the border to Qualian space — the orbship was unexpectedly yanked out of hyperspace. Not everyone had abandoned the Qualians after the rest of Galactogon declared war against them. Plenty of players liked the idea of fighting for the underdog, even though the underdog was obviously a jerk. And the Qualians in turn understood the importance of these mercenaries — supplying them with new weapons, armor, and ships. In turn, the players had gone beyond merely defending Qualian territory — they began to expand it, invading and capturing the various frontier systems. Through their efforts, the empire had become something like a tumor, a disease animated by a virus called ‘humans.’
As we emerged from hyperspace, I banked Warlock gracefully, dodging the incoming fire, opened the throttle to 80% and headed deeper into Qualian space, ordering Brainiac to calculate a new jump. I guess the game’s forums will have a new topic to discuss today: ‘How much longer will this game be so imba?!’ And of course the majority of those threads would be full of Liberium tears and Qualian salt. For my part, I simply ignored our assailants’ initial threats and demands, then (when they failed to catch me) their warnings to stay out of their territory and finally, simply re-entered hyperspace without a care for all their disruptor beams. It’s like they were role-playing space border patrol.
As soon as we emerged out of hyperspace, I had Brainiac transmit my message over the public comms: “I have earned a reward! I wish to receive it from the Qualian emperor.”
Nobody was expecting me and so we had only a couple of seconds until the Grand Arbiter destroyed us. I needed to get the Qualians’ attention before that happened.
The Grand Arbiter locked onto us. It did not fire, however. We’d made it in time.
The Qualians crawled all over the orbship trying to find some pretext to turn me away. Some bomb, some smuggled contraband, anything…Alas, to customs’ chagrin, there was nothing. A group of Qualian G-men showed up next. Their thin ties, suitcases and mirrored glasses made them seem like serious people — very serious in fact, judging by how the customs officers parted before them. They wanted to know how I had passed the border patrols. I had nothing to hide, so I calmly threw the players under the bus. I mean, there’s a war going on fellas: You need to take your role-playing more seriously. Satisfied, the security agents signed my pass and I was allowed to pass onto the third level of checks before my meeting with the emperor: psychologists. ‘Who, where, why, who gave you the permits, what do I believe and what kind of problems have I had since childhood?’ We agreed that I had some form of PTSD, needed psychological help, but was otherwise okay to meet the leader of their empire.
Warlock remained in orbit, ready to blow up at any moment. I didn’t worry. Lumara’s gift would help me contact the ship even from inside a maximum security prison cell with signal jammers around it. Once I had landed on Marloon, the Qualians demanded that I remove my armor suit and placed me in Rialto Bracelets. The Qualians were well aware of who I was and weren’t taking any chances. For my part, I assumed that they’d wrap me in a chain just to make sure.
I was also forced to go through the unpleasant wardrobe changing procedure. Nobody uncuffed me beforehand, so I had to stand around awkwardly as slaves dressed me. You’d think that getting dressed by slave girls would be a pleasant procedure, but when they all have three eyes and a suction cup on each finger, well, pleasure ain’t the word.
Having stoically suffered these indignities, I finally found myself at my destination — the throne room of the Qualian Emperor.
In the empty throne room of the Qualian imperial palace.
And I mean empty — there was no one here. Not even on the throne.
“You wished to receive your reward from me,” a mechanical voice resounded through the hall forcing me to look around in search of a speaker. “What is the reward you desire, traitor?”
I guess the emperor still remembered my escape from their training center. Initially, my character had spawned in the Qualian Empire — this was why I could still understand the Qualian language without Brainiac’s translation. But I did not like this situation. What’s up with all this hide and seek? Where’s the personal audience? This wasn’t the deal!
“How do I know that you are really Quisling IV, Emperor of the Qualians?” I asked dubiously. “I have been granted the right to meet the emperor personally, not speak to some secretary over the intercom.”
A pause.
“Does the Qualian Empire refuse to honor its obligations?” I pressed — and a system notification appeared:
The emperor offers you a non-disclosure agreement (everything that happens in the throne room, remains in the throne room).
Accept / Decline
Another pause. One of my own making this time. The Qualians had caught me off guard.
An NDA meant that even if I saw something, I could not relate it to another local. In fact, an NPC would simply ignore what I said. Even if I pop out to meatspace, tell another player what I learned, then they tell another player and that player pops into Galactogon and tells the secret to an NPC — they’d still not hear it. Hence the ‘non-disclosure’ part.
However, these are all details. I mentally pushed the Accept button, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. What are the secrets of the Qualian court?
Part of the wall behind the throne slid up, admitting the emperor. He walked directly towards me — and with each step my jaw dropped lower and lower. A cheap description, I agree, but it’s hard to come up with a better words to characterize my reaction. The creature that entered the throne room was not a Qualian. Or, more precisely, it had once been a Qualian but in some other life. The turban on the Emperor’s head could not conceal the brainworm stuck to his skull, while his eyes, emitting a dark mist, were filled with the Abyss. I shivered, recognizing the familiar look within them.
It was the same look that filled each of the Queen’s countless eyes.
“You wished to see me, traitor!”
Everything trembled inside of me. The creature’s voice resonated with the world around us, forcing every cell within me to dance. A rustle of shifting stones swept across the hall. The voice of the enslaved emperor affected not only me, but even the monolithic walls.
This meeting was shaping up to become a catastrophic failure. I had come prepared with a definite strategy for how to get the KRIEG from the Qualians. That strategy had just folded like a house of cards. Here it is, the reason for forcing the NDA on me. Qualians, in effect, were no longer an empire of their own. They served the Queen. Hmm…Why this could be a good chance to have a chat with her! Improvisation is all I had — and besides, the Queen shouldn’t have any idea what the KRIEG is and how it’s best served and eaten. Did I have something that could interest her? You bet!
“And a good day to you, Queen of the Zatrathi!” I bowed. “Glad to see your majesty in fine health! Pirate Surgeon wishes to express his regard.”
“You destroyed me!” Plaster rained from the ceiling.
“You invaded my house without warning. I did not have time to make the place look nice for you and took offense. The next time you decide to swallow a star system, consider whether it belongs to someone who could harm you.”
“You dare impose conditions on me?!” One of the columns cracked and I couldn’t help but glance at the walls doubtfully. Getting buried by rubble is not a good way to end negotiations and I felt like there was progress to be made here. I mean, she is talking to me, isn’t she? That’s a start! I need to make good use of it.
“I’m not here to impose anything on anyone. I am here to trade with you. After all, don’t you need some strong partners? We pirates can come in handy. All of Galactogon is afraid of us. You and I could be beneficial to each other. But, if you’re interested, stop shaking the walls. You’re making me nervous.”
An Anorxian came flying out of the wall. There was also a brainworm attached to its synthoid casing. I could make it out quite clearly. It was very different fro
m the Uldan version. This one was more like a dried mushroom. Dark, gnarled and ugly.
“What kind of partnership are you talking about? What could you offer me, pirate?”
Now I understood where the metal voice came from. The Queen was speaking through the Anorxian’s voicebox. The emperor climbed onto the throne and ‘hibernated,’ hanging his head on his chest. What does it matter which transmitter speaks when the speaker on the other end of the line is one and the same?
“I ran into a Relay who broke contact with you near a black hole. The Zatrathi there called him ‘the child.’”
“He is dead. He was sucked into the black hole, from where nothing can return, not even me!”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but not only did he survive, but he even got out and is now in the Precians’ possession. I suppose you know who they are and what their relationship with the Qualians is like. I could deliver the renegade Relay to you. Not a bad offer, right? What do you say, Majesty?”
“You have a day!”
“Uh, no — I don’t work like that. That is, I don’t take orders from you. But I will work with you. And so — what will the pirates get if I bring you the renegade?”
“You dare impose conditions?!”
“You’re repeating yourself,” I said calmly. “And in that case, I’ll repeat myself too. I’m not here to impose anything on anyone. I’m here to make a deal. You heard my offer. I want to know what you can offer me in return? Or shall I help the Precians develop the Relay further?”
This last part I made up on the fly, at random, and yet the Anorxian suddenly fizzed and popped. Smoke billowed from the synthoid and it keeled over, turning into a loot crate. The brainworm lasted a little longer. I wasn’t sure how to react — not sure of what had just happened. Is it me or did the Queen just burn down her own robot? Why? Was my bit of improvisation on the mark?!
“I cannot permit you to do that!” Another Anorxian came bumbling into the throne room. “You cannot grow a Relay that has no binding to me!”
Orly? Well this is interesting. The Queen must have been a brainwom herself back in the day. This begs a reasonable question: Where did the brainworm come from? Belmarad didn’t recognize one when he saw it, which means that they’re not an Uldan creation.
I turned back to the Queen: “Can…cannot…your problems are not my business. I have enough of my own. Are we going to work together? If yes, then here is my offer: I will deliver the renegade to you and in exchange you promise to respect a star system of mine. That is, not one of your warriors may enter it. You can trade in it, build warehouses, but, please, no warriors. Hell, you can burn the rest of Galactogon to cinders, as long as you leave my system alone.”
“Your demand is impossible, human.” The Queen refused as I expected. Her rationale, however, wasn’t what I thought it would be. “There must be at least one flying fortress in the system. It will provide protection from enemies and supervise my own forces to ensure they do not violate our agreement. That is the only way I can guarantee my side of the deal.”
“Oh, that will suit me just fine. Although, why only one? You can garrison three or four if you like…”
“Are you afraid of something?”
“I’m a pirate! I have many enemies, and four fortresses will allow me to rest easy when I’m not around. Plus I’ll be able to get in touch with you whenever I like — if, say, I come across some fat system for you. Isn’t your diet primarily yellow dwarfs, or will red giants do as well?”
“I am still not powerful enough to eat the larger stars,” the Queen replied. “I have a list of one hundred systems. That will suffice for six months. Yes, you might come in handy, pirate! Gather information for me. But first bring me the renegade! I must know how it escaped my control!”
New mission available: Return of the Prodigal Child. Warning! If you successfully complete this mission, you will automatically join the Zatrathi faction.
Oh no! This is like threatening a porcupine with your bare ass! At the moment, I’d trade away every point of Rapport I still had just to get my hands on that KRIEG!
“That’s a good start!” I exclaimed, accepting the quest. “Now back to the original purpose of my visit. You were going to reward me!”
“WHAT?! You are alive, aren’t you? That is sufficient reward for a hero like you!”
“Your Majesty — I am no hero. I am a pirate! And I was promised a reward! If the emperor is to give me a gift, then he must give it to me, even if he is thrice enslaved. Such are the ironclad rules of Galactogon! Or do you wish to rewrite them? Do you have permission to do so? I think not. So let me speak with the Qualian emperor for a few minutes.”
You dev bastards didn’t anticipate this, did you? Let old Surgeon teach you a thing or two.
The second Anorxian blew his top and collapsed on the floor, leaving behind another loot crate. Her Majesty seemed irate.
“Ask for something else!” Another Anorxian waddled into the throne room. Does she have a warehouse full of them back there?
“It’s my right — and it’s inviolable. The emperor must give me my reward!”
The third Anorxian began to smoke, but this time the Queen managed herself. The robot did not blow. Instead, the Qualian Emperor rose from his throne and approached me. A gang of Anorxians entered the throne room and took the emperor by the hands, restraining him. One even grabbed his legs.
“I warn you, my mercenary — pay no attention to his pleas. Ask for your reward, receive it and go deal with the renegade child. Do you understand? If you do something that displeases me, our deal will be off. I will find a way to get the renegade without your help.”
“Do I have to wait much longer?” I plied my line. “My time’s not limitless. A galaxy of booty awaits my plunder and I’m here talking to you.”
There was a moist sucking sound — as if a boot had been pulled out of a muddy creek bed. The brainworm flopped to the floor, the darkness cleared from the emperor’s eyes, they acquired clarity and sentience, and my stomach swooned and sank: Belmarad isn’t dead as I supposed! He’s simply locked out of his own mind. If I hand the child over to the Queen, the dark Uldan lord will return to Galactogon. I wonder if he’s the kind to hold a grudge…
“Pirate Surgeon? What hap…” The emperor trailed off as he noticed the Anorxians holding him.
“I have been granted the right to receive a reward, oh Emperor of the Qualians. I wish to receive it from you personally. That is why I’m here. I wish to receive the KRIEG!” The emperor’s eyes went wide with astonishment. Worried that he might ruin my ruse, I quickly added: “Do you know what the Vengeance does? I can see by your eyes that you know. Well, it was destroyed when I earned the reward I now ask of you. So now I need the KRIEG. It’s the one gadget I’m sorely missing at the moment. Maybe it’ll help me return here for another audience with you — who knows?”
How nice it is that the emperors in this game are governed by advanced AIs. As I watched, comprehension flashed deep in the NPC’s eyes — and though broken by his cruel fate, he rallied — and again became the leader of his empire. Majestic, wise and, most importantly, with the highest security clearance in the land.
“I confirm your right to the reward you seek, Pirate Surgeon. If you really prefer the useless KRIEG instead of the planets you could ask for, have your way! My master of prisons shall bring it here. Remember this code, human. You cannot receive the KRIEG otherwise. Will there be something else?”
“Not at the moment. I will return when I earn the right to another reward.”
One of the Anorxians picked up the brainworm from the floor and attached it back to the head of the emperor. There was an unpleasant sound and the Abyss flooded back into the local’s eyes.
“What is the KRIEG?” The queen asked through the Anorxian. “For some reason, I can’t access that memory.”
“A device for my ship. It will make it faster,” I lied immediately. “I have been looking for it for a long time, but the Q
ualians did not want to give it away. It’s an Uldan device — stuff like that isn’t available anymore.”
The emperor approached his throne, put his hand on the armrest and a small screen slid out. A couple of clicks and a notification appeared before my eyes:
You have gained access to the KRIEG.
Your rapport with all the empires remains unchanged.
Current Rapport: 0.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Doesn’t look like much of a weapon to me.” The Uldan on Zubrail was in no hurry to accept the task. He fumbled with the mysterious KRIEG in his hands and frowned.
Frankly, I had my doubts too. The KRIEG turned out to be a metal cube about half a meter tall, with two wires and one button. A very smart-looking Qualian had handed it to me. One of those creatures who’ve traded their social skills for a higher IQ. Giggling awkwardly and constantly adjusting his glasses, the Precian explained to me how to use the weapon. According to his instructions, I was supposed to attach the wires to the planetary spirit, push the button and just be happy that I could respawn somewhere else. Because there’d be nothing left at all in a radius of two hyper-minutes from the epicenter. Neither living nor dead. Not even matter.
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