In Search of the Uldans, page 12
part #2 of Galactogon Series
Alexandria appeared all at once as if a magician’s handkerchief had been whipped off of her. The huge A-class colossus was a cruiser of the latest type. The hatch opened, and the crew of the cruiser filtered in to man their stations. Twenty seconds passed and the ship lit up with a myriad lights like some deepwater leviathan opening its eyes. A shield flickered to life around the cruiser, protecting my own ship just in time. Marina was about to settle some accounts. The torpedoes were approaching, and Warlock sidled up to the cruiser’s hull as close as possible, looking for protection from her big sister. There was a deafening roar, and all twenty-five torpedoes evaporated from a well-coordinated salvo of my partner’s point defense guns. If I didn’t know that a fourteen year-old boy was managing the cruiser’s weapons systems, I’d imagine that a team of artillerists had pulled off such a feat. As it stood, the boy was Kiddo’s pride and joy. She had trained him herself, hovering over him day after day to ensure that her gunner’s skills grew appropriately. As soon as they had picked up Anton, Marina’s joyful voice broke the air on the common frequency:
“Attention all ships! This is the captain of the cruiser Alexandria! I am declaring this system a no-weapons zone. Any further aggression will be regarded hostile and met with live fire! You had your chance to get rid of me and you blew it, you goons.”
The obscenities that erupted in response to this suggested that there were few gentlemen in the system. And while a majority resorted to their well-worn memes and insults, a small handful tried to get Kiddo to see the reason of their actions.
“We have orders from the Emperor!”
“We can’t let you out of the system, Captain Kiddo!”
“We have to shoot!” I think these were the only responses that didn’t contain swearing.
“Bad try, guys,” I muttered to myself, amused by the circus. At the moment Kiddo was disposed to tear to shreds anyone who stood between her ship and her freedom.
“I said my part. Surgeon, we’re leaving. Set bearing to two-two-zero, speed twenty. Anyone who gets in the way gets no quarter. I’ve announced my course. You can choose what’s more important to you on your own: the Emperor’s orders or your ship’s current class.”
Marina cut off her broadcast and called me up on our closed channel.
“I can jam the disruptor beams long enough for us to jump out of system, but it’ll take time. I have no way of knowing if the Qualians will rebuild their command center ahead of time. We can’t handle a Grand Arbiter. I won’t be able to take it out a second time. Let’s leave the system first, then deal with the hyperdrive disruptor beams and discuss the jump coordinates. At the moment, we can’t hyperjump outside the empire. A single cruiser doesn’t scare me, but if we run into a guild acting like a team, we will be overwhelmed. I’m sending over the logs. The full account of the battle is in there. Over and out.”
Having instructed Brainiac to follow the cruiser, I dialed the adviser back on Raydon.
“Pirate Kiddo gave me the logs, please accept the transfer from me. Analyze the data. If the Qualians’ plot is confirmed—I would like to consider my mission accomplished.”
“I confirm the transfer. I need about half an hour to analyze this data. Our signal quality is deteriorating; are you moving away from the planet?”
“Yes, in about a minute our connection will completely disappear. It is unlikely that the Qualians will permit us to use their comm relays,” I confirmed as Brainiac explained what was going on with my HUD. The ship computer could participate in my conversations with NPCs.
“I won’t manage in a few minutes.” The adviser did not sound happy. “If the data is not confirmed, I will return to the emperor with nothing and you will therefore lose access to the empire. These were His Imperial Majesty’s conditions.”
I repeated to myself several curses I had just heard directed at Kiddo, but then a notification that the mission had been updated flashed before my eyes.
“I have nothing more to do on this planet. In five minutes I will be delivered to your ship. Please delay your departure.” The adviser’s tone did not brook objections.
“Marina, I have problems. I need to wait for the adviser. Five minutes.”
“We ain’t got five minutes!” barked the girl angrily. “In a few minutes the best Qualian guilds will send their cruisers into this system. At that point you may as well self-destruct. I’m not about to go up against an armada.”
“If I leave, I will lose a very nice mission sequence. And I’ll lose access to the Hansa Corp. And also…Well, look, I’ll just lose too much!”
“Goddamn it, Surgeon! We’ll wait five minutes and drift slowly out of the system. Tell your adviser to hurry up. And don’t leave my security perimeter. It’s about to get hot around here. And one more thing, if we get out of here, I don’t owe you anything more for the rescue or my ship. Over and out.”
Alexandria’s shield flushed a deep purple color, warning anyone concerned that the ship was charging up for something. Renewed shouting and swearing filled the comm channels. The ships around us rushed to get as far from Alexandria as possible, but not everyone could make it in time. Alexandria’s bow erupted in a flash as bright as a sun, emitting a fireball half its size at the nearest cruiser. Several torpedoes sallied from the enemy ship to meet the ball of plasma, but it only swallowed them and grew in size. When the enormous ball of plasma reached the enemy ship, Galactogon froze for a moment—the game servers were calculating the damage and rendering the ensuing picture.
The remains of the Qualian cruiser remained in place. The mysterious weapon did not blow the vessel to the other side of the galaxy, nor disintegrate her into its constituent atoms, nor collapse her into a black hole. The ball of plasma simply burned its way through her hull, leaving a perfectly tidy tunnel of an immense width. But Marina was in no hurry to enjoy her victory. The next second, about fifty torpedoes shot forth from Alexandria in search of their targets. Seeing the players in the smaller ships get distracted by the cruiser’s demise, Kiddo made good use of her chance. The price for gawking turned out to be steep: Fifty bright flashes signaled fifty lost classes and fifty lost ships.
“If you lot don’t show me your stern and jet in the next two minutes, I’ll repeat that trick again,” Marina’s cold voice cut through the racket of abuse—causing it to stop all at once. The players were quicker on the ball now. One by one, the scouts, frigates, and even carracks turned tail, calculating their hyperjump routes. The three remaining cruisers, however, looked like they were planning on attacking Kiddo together.
“Request to dock incoming,” Brainiac announced in the ringing silence. The adviser had reached us in just three minutes. Distracted by his arrival, a few minutes went by before I looked at my screens again—by then, the Raydon system was clear. The cruisers thought better of it and hurried off.
“I’m sending you the coordinates. We’re leaving,” Marina commanded as soon as the ship undocked. The Precian took the passenger seat and immersed himself in his analysis of the logs from Kiddo’s ship. Brainiac began crunching the numbers for the hyperjump, displaying a countdown timer in the meantime. It looked that we were going to get out of this mess after all…
“Good mooorning, Galactogon!” Gammon’s voice burst in over the public chat as the engineer said sadly:
“A hyperdrive disruptor beam is painting our vessel. We won’t be able to enter hyperspace. Ten cruisers have entered the Raydon system.”
Spending time on negotiations was not Marina’s preferred M.O. Alexandria’s engines flared and the cruiser rushed forward at such a speed that I was forced to thank my snake engineer for upgrading our engines in time. The upgrade was the only thing that allowed me to keep up with my partner.
“Kiddo, where are you off to? I came here to chat with you—even brought some cruisers—and you show me your stern. Watch out, I might mistake that for flirting,” grunted Gammon and then guffawed at his own wit.
“Am I missing something? Do we have some kind of business to discuss?” Marina deigned to answer, ignoring the dubious urgency.
“None with you, but some with that little birdie that’s tucked under your wing there. Sur-geon…Oh, Sur-geon…Be a man and step out from that gal’s skirt, will you? You owe me. Captain of Alexandria—you are free to leave the system as soon as you stop shielding that UFO. His destiny lies in the jurisdiction of the Qualian Empire. Or mine. I haven’t decided yet.”
“And then what? You’ll let me go? With no double-crosses or anything? The pirate that’s escaped your masters?” Marina clarified with notes of distrust, and my stomach sank unpleasantly. My hand automatically crept to the self-destruct button. Even if all the electronics on the ship were knocked out with an EM blast, the button would work.
“I’ll let you go on principle. It’s more profitable for me if you owe me one. I can afford to do a favor for a nice lady instead of fighting her.”
“Noble of you…but hard to believe.”
“Let’s be honest, Kiddo. If the Qualians hadn’t sent away my two cruisers, you’d still be in your cell. And that’s the Qualians’ problem. But leave Surgeon. What do you need him for? I have ten cruisers, two of them can jump ahead of you. What are you going to do? The fireworks just now were impressive, but you won’t be able to shoot that thing more than three times. You have three more charges at most. I am ready to sacrifice three cruisers. What about you?”
“Surgeon, we must return to Zalva urgently!” The adviser said excitedly, distracting me from the dialogue that was deciding my fate. “There is proof that the Qualians were complicit! The Emperor must see it with his own eyes. He will declare war!”
Mission accomplished: Deep Recon.
Report to the Precian Emperor to receive your reward.
A saving thought flashed through my head, and I jumped after it, praying that the Precian wouldn’t refuse immediately.
“Adviser, I understand that you don’t work with pirates. What would you say if the Black Sails switch allegiance to the Precians? With all their resources and ships?”
“That is a very interesting proposal,” the adviser answered interestedly. “It would be foolish, of course, to refuse the support of a guild of this level. But I am afraid that after we submit our memorandum of protest to the Qualians, we will no longer consider any changes of allegiance between our empires. If the Black Sails do not submit their application in time, we will not be able to help. Neither we nor any other empire in Galactogon. The Black Sails will have to work their way up from the bottom, proving their usefulness to their new empire. They will receive neither planets, nor mining concessions.”
“They could apply to you now, guaranteeing a significant contribution to the development of the empire. They might take an active financial role in the restoration of Zalva’s second moon, for example,” I tossed out the bait and realized from a red flashing light bulb that the adviser had already contacted the emperor about the deal. The number eight guild in the Qualian Empire is nothing to sneeze at, especially with war around the corner.
“If they swear allegiance to the Precian Empire now, the emperor will make an exception and accept them,” the adviser said, giving my hope of salvation a real footing. I had lost the thread of negotiations between Kiddo and Gammon in the meantime, but now it was unimportant:
“Kiddo, stop haggling. Our suspicions have been confirmed. The adviser just acknowledged them. Gammon, my offer still stands. Ten million credits for info that is worth much more than that and directly concerns the interests of your guild. Captain Kiddo will confirm that I am not bluffing.”
Marina instantly got her bearings in the situation.
“Gammon, the information that Surgeon is offering you really is valuable,” she said. “You know me—I value my reputation. If you let us go and pay us, you’ll reap immense profits later.”
“What is this some new con?” The guild leader snorted. “You two found yourself a new sucker?”
“Attention, we are slowing down,” Kiddo announced publicly and Alexandria fell abruptly behind Warlock. I slowed down after her and returned to the cruiser’s stern. Naturally, Kiddo was risking it, allowing the enemy ships to encircle us, but it would be difficult to win the confidence of the head of the Black Sails in some other manner. “Gammon, I’ll wait for you on my ship. Surgeon, you should join us. Let’s not be kids about this and play the believe-don’t-believe game.”
Ten minutes later, Alexandria’s comfortable cabin played host to a meeting of five: Marina and Anton, Gammon, his deputy Bones, and me.
“All right, get on with it,” Gammon grinned, scooting his chair closer. The head of the Sails still thought he was wasting his time, but curiosity had prevailed for the moment. “When will I get a chance to hang out on Alexandria and listen to two hucksters persuade me to waste ten million credits?”
“We’re offering you a deal. We’ll give you the information first and if you see its value, you’ll transfer the money and release us. As you can see, there is no risk for you,” I radiated goodwill and self-confidence.
“And if I don’t see the value in it?” Gammon exchanged glances with his deputy.
“Then you become renowned throughout all of Galactogon as the last little shit without honor and dignity. And I ensure that this renown is carried far and wide,” Kiddo replied seriously.
“What poor hospitality, Kiddo. Instead of offering tea you treat us with bile. Well, let’s have your secret then,” said Gammon.
“The Qualians are working with the Zatrathi, violating their treaty with the Alliance. The Precians have irrefutable evidence of this fact, and as soon as the adviser returns to Zalva, no matter whether on his own or after respawning, the Alliance will announce an embargo. Relations between empires are strained as it is, yet now war seems inevitable.”
“Yeah and so what?” Gammon snorted. “The Qualians were always obsessed with the Zatrathi. Everyone knew about it, and it didn’t bother anyone before that, why start a war now?”
“Because before no imperial adviser received orders to acquire irrefutable evidence personally for the emperor. Are you following this or not? I’m sure these are new scenarios. You can see for yourself how an NPC reacts to your well-known news.”
I sent Gammon and Kiddo a short clip in which the very animated adviser babbled about his findings in Alexandria’s logbook. After the video had had its desired effect, I continued:
“Now try and imagine, Gammon. At the moment you have six planets, good connections within your empire, your own space mines and hold eighth place in the rankings. What will happen to all that once the combined forces of all the players from all the other empires set upon you? The Zatrathi are far away and they’re plenty powerful. The players will welcome an enemy nearby, a smaller fish to gobble up. Why aren’t you a suitable minnow?”
“We’ll see about that! Let them come. I’ll have some things to tell them of my own,” Gammon said through his teeth. The guild leader quickly understood the ramifications and could probably envision his future better than me.
“Nobody’s saying the war won’t be long and valorous but you already know the final outcome. The Qualians will be crushed—sooner or later, but they will be crushed. The players will start fleeing like space rats from a sinking ship, but it will be too late. You will lose everything. Now look here—I specifically asked the adviser about you and the possibility of your guild switching to the Precian Empire as mercenaries.”
Here, I sent another clip to Gammon and Kiddo of the adviser discussing the conditions for the Black Sails’ change of factions.
“As you can see, under normal circumstances, without our blessing and cooperation, the transition from one empire to another is strictly regulated. You simply won’t have time to retrieve all your assets from the Qualians otherwise. Now try and tell me that I don’t deserve freedom and the reward I asked for. Especially when I went out on a limb and got you an imperial guarantee. Here—take this as proof of my goodwill to you.”
I sent off the last clip, in which the adviser confirmed on behalf of the emperor the transition of the Black Sails to the Precian Empire, under the condition they did so immediately. Gammon’s opaque visor kept me from seeing his reaction. All I could do was wait until he had finished discussing the offer with his guild and deputies. Marina meanwhile was conferring with Anton, paying us no attention.
“I won’t have enough time to liquidate all our assets while you’re on your way to Zalva.” It took Gammon about five minutes to come back to us. I had even begun to worry. “I need three or four hours.”
“No problem,” Marina came to my aid, for I had no idea how to persuade the adviser to postpone the report. “If you can make it worth the adviser’s time to wait, he will give you the extra time.”
