In Search of the Uldans, page 26
part #2 of Galactogon Series
I said nothing because now was not the time to be distracted by idle talk. The final phase of my plan began. The engineer was the first to report:
“Second and third torpedoes launched. Fuse set to five minutes.”
The captured tail turret allowed us to orient ourselves. Once again, having made sure that the cruiser Inevitable was still facing Belket, I ordered:
“Brainiac, launch the tub. Block any attempts to seize control. I need thirty seconds!”
The cruiser shuddered and slowly, lazily, began creeping in the direction of Belket. The bow thrusters which we couldn’t control began firing to slow us down, but they were no match for the main engines. All they could do was delay the inevitable…hah. Several interceptors broke through to us through the force field, but the gunner remained attentive—the fighters did not have time to release their torpedoes. Amazingly—Aalor decided to blow a couple of torpedoes inside his ship. Without having understood what I was trying to do with the reasonable part of his brain, he nevertheless sensed the threat perfectly well.
Instead of using the thrusters to turn his cruiser away from the system and head into deep space, Aalor only tried to brake with them. This was a major error on the captain’s part. He was right—I didn’t have enough torpedoes or energy to blow up his ship. My orbship was a mosquito buzzing around an elephant’s ear. The slightest wrong move and the elephant would swat me with its trunk. Only Aalor did not understand that my buzzing was no more than a diversion. The mosquito was weak, but he knew who was stronger than all on Belket.
“We have entered the Belket system,” announced Brainiac.
“Fire at will, gunner!”
“You son of a…” Aalor screamed over the comms, but it was too late. A bolt of plasma from the cruiser’s tail turret went flying at the nearest Grand Arbiter, turning the Inevitable into an aggressor. By giving me the time, Aalor had sentenced his ship to death. Fighters rushed forward, trying to knock down the gun, but they were too late—I managed to fire two more times before they could silence their own turret.
“We’re out of here!” The orbship took off, emerging back into space among the swarm of interceptors. Only now nobody could attack me—they had been immobilized. With one enormous EM blast, the Arbiter fried all the electronics that weren’t shielded by the cruiser’s hull. Even the cruiser had a hard time—the energy shields were still holding against the onslaught from the Arbiter’s main beam cannons, but without proper control of the engines, Aalor could no longer maneuver. Another Arbiter moved to join the battle and now the outcome was certain. Inevitable was doomed.
“Surgeon, you’re a dead man!” yelled Aalor before his cruiser turned into a beautiful fireball. That’s minus one class and, as a result, minus several equipment slots. Yet the Arbiters did not stop there—the interceptors belonged to the outlaw cruiser and had to be destroyed too. I did not intervene, despite my desire to get more kills for Hilvar’s mission. I left the mopping up to the Arbiters. From their perspective, I was no more than an innocent bystander. I hadn’t attacked anyone after all.
The two Fighting Breed cruisers drew closer, but didn’t dare do anything to me, trying to figure out what happened. From the outside it must have seemed like Inevitable had caught a flea and then went haywire, first drifting aimlessly and then attacking a trade planet.
Brainiac announced several times that enemies were locking onto us, but no one fired. For the locals, I was merely an incidental gawker observing their security operation. Making sure that no one survived, the Arbiters returned to their positions, watching over the peace and security of the system. But now it was my time—the time of looting and plunder.
I didn’t care about the fighters. The most I could get from them was a bit of raq. All my attention turned to the huge crate left after the cruiser. The fact that one of the holds had been empty did not mean that all others would be too. A ship of her class would have had four or five. The robotic arm opened the flickering crate, and Brainiac displayed a list of the contents.
“What do you think, Sebastian?” I asked just in case, although the thief was already immersed in studying the list.
“One hundred and twenty armor suits. They’re A-class, but you’ve seen yourself how much they fetch. I’d say on average 8 million apiece. Right, now then, what else is in here? These blasters are trash. Cheap Precian knock offs. And here’s more junk. Ah! Now this is interesting. These look like Zatrathi ship parts! And not from their interceptors or scouts either…These are beam cannons, and these are some type of reactors. I wonder where they got these from? I’ve been keeping up with the war news and there was no mention of Liberium being involved in any boarding action. These parts are new. Some are still in their packaging—you could only get these straight from the stockpiles.”
“Braniac, can we fit the lot of it?” I could guess where Liberium had gotten these parts. They were the true reason for why the high-ranked guild had stood up for Fighting Breed. The marines had captured a Zatrathi repair base and looted it. They had no use for these parts themselves—their focus was ground combat—so they had sold it to Liberium in exchange for my punishment.
“Yes, we can take all the parts, but nothing more.”
“Sebastian, is there anything here that is worth more than ten million?”
“Two harvesters, a marine landing craft, an assault mech and three hundred tons of raq.”
“Brainiac, load up the parts and let’s land on Belket. We’ll show our haul to Hansa and see if there’s anything valuable among it.”
We had barely left the site of Aalor’s defeat when my PDA began to buzz. It was Gammon.
“Pirate Surgeon at your service!” I happily answered the call. Despite all the potential problems down the line, the taste of victory was overpowering. My plan had succeeded, the enemy was defeated, I had made a good penny—what could be better? That’s what Galactogon was for—a game to enjoy yourself in.
“May you escape a ship-less, agonizing death. Vargen wants to speak with you. I’m putting him through.”
“Greetings, leader of Liberium! How may I be of assistance?” I was expecting a call but had thought it would be Aalor instead of the head of Liberium himself.
“I want your footage from the moment the battle began until it ended,” Vargen’s tone could not be called friendly, but he didn’t threaten me openly either. That in itself was a good sign.
“Sure. How should I send it and to whom?” I saw nothing odd about the request. The guild head needed to figure out how one of his officers had been sent to respawn and I didn’t mind making Aalor’s life a little more difficult. After all was said and done, he had made several errors that had cost his ship her legendary class.
“Stay on Belket. You will be contacted. Give me your comm number.”
“Here you go,” I was all courtesy and generosity.
A pause followed in which Vargen did not hang up, as if wondering how to talk with me further. Maybe he had expected to hear anything but consent or cooperation from me.
“Do not talk to anyone, do not make any deals, do not answer any calls. I will be on Belket myself in twenty minutes. Wait for me at the Seven Beauties club. There will be a table there in my name. You will be taken to it. Over and out.”
The dispatcher gave me permission to land on dock number ten—an honor in which I saw Vargen’s involvement. Before I could leave the ship, we were surrounded by engineers with Hansa patches on their coveralls who began to repair the hull damage. Although we did indeed need minor repairs, I hadn’t requested anything of the kind. Only the appearance of a system notification that the first ten docks came with free ship maintenance dispelled my puzzlement. A taxi hovered over to the dock too—and even turned out to be free of charge. Even though it wasn’t Eine’s luxury saucer, it did the job of taking me to the Seven Beauties just fine.
Vargen’s chosen establishment resembled an ancient amphitheater from the inside. The tables were set up along the different levels to maximize the view of the stage in the center. At the same time, it was a bit difficult to spy on the other guests to see what they had on their plates. Vargen still hadn’t shown up, so I indulged in the establishment’s offerings: Seven semi-nude Precian acrobats were tumbling above the stage.
Vargen appeared exactly as their performance ended. I couldn’t make out his face. Like mine, it was completely concealed by his armor suit’s visor.
“The video,” he said at once. There was no objection on my part, so as he watched I turned back to the enchanting magic of the dance of the seven beauties. Vargen watched my battle with Aalor through my eyes, without looking up. Finally he turned back to me:
“You must return the Zatrathi ship parts,” Vargen did not conceal that his people had already reached the flickering crate and made a list of the missing inventory.
“That is my loot. I have every right to it,” I replied without looking away from the show and demonstrating that my cooperation had its boundaries.
“It would be foolish to hand that equipment over to Hansa. You cannot give it to anyone else, but I can.”
I turned and leaned forward.
“Buy it back. I’m happy to sell my property at the right price.”
“What about this? Will this suit you?” Vargen placed a small silver badge on the table. “The insignia of a Liberium officer.”
“I spent many years as an officer in a leading guild. I play alone now. Don’t waste time on listing the benefits of joining your guild. I know very well the kind of workload an officer has to deal with. Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t go there, file a loot report and don’t forget to turn everything over to the vault keeper. Thank you, but freedom and independence are more important to me. I can make you a counter offer, however.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You officially declare me a friend of your guild. That will be more than enough for everyone, including Fighting Breed. A guild doesn’t harass its friends. In exchange for this guarantee, I forget about the video of my battle with Aalor. And we agree on a different price for the Zatrathi ship parts. The game is a means to make money for me. Pay me three million real credits—and they are yours. If not, I can find other buyers. It really would be foolish to hand them over to Hansa, but I have other plans. Most importantly, you give me the opportunity to deprive the Fighting Breed of their remaining cruisers. I am not vindictive. If they wish to punish me so much, let them do it themselves, without outside help.”
“The Zatrathi ship parts are not subject to negotiation,” Vargen snapped. “You must return them. Further, Fighting Breed paid us to get their cruiser back. There is nothing to discuss there either. The cruiser must be returned to them.”
“Then I don’t understand what the hell you are doing here.” I said, baffled. “Did you show up to twirl that officer’s badge under my nose? I could not care less about you and your guild. If you start any trouble, I will sell all the items to the NPCs, delete my character and make a new one. You really think that an independent player will go along with your guild BS?”
“As I said, the cruiser must be returned,” Vargen continued, as if nothing had happened. “Only I did not say what cruiser it should be. Fighting Breed still has two B-class cruisers. I imagine you can figure out the rest yourself. Liberium takes its obligations seriously, so I will assist you in returning the cruiser to Fighting Breed, informally at least.”
“Works for me. When will I get the money for the loot?”
“That issue is not under discussion. The guild’s interest trumps everything else.”
“Vargen, you have a lot to say about Liberium’s interests, but not so much about the interests of the player named Surgeon. That would be me. I don’t care about your guild. I’m more interested in my own affairs. No money—no equipment. That is my position. There won’t be another one. Three million.”
“Another offer,” Vargen handed me a sheet of paper. “We cannot investigate this. You can.”
“Planets like that are a dime a dozen in my mission logs,” I snorted, reading the description. Pretending to remain calm was the hardest part here, yet I managed. “Aalor should have told you what planet I offered him almost for free. So I’m not interested.”
Admittedly, Vargen had caught me off guard—he was offering me information about an anomaly which could easily be related to the Uldans. A mysterious nebula that sent any ships that entered it to the graveyard, regardless of their size. Only Inevitable had managed to survive. Aalor had entered the nebula and discovered a planet within it. He hadn’t learned anything else though—his cruiser’s hull was deteriorating rapidly and the captain had had to flee urgently. Only thanks to Hansa’s enhanced armor was he able to hold out in the nebula for some time and then emerge alive. But the most interesting thing was that his sensors picked up several orbships like mine shadowing him. They escorted him the entire way, without getting involved, waiting for Aalor to leave the nebula.
Vargen had expected another reaction from me, so he kept his silence. I was forced to prompt him now:
“Let’s get back to the equipment. Will I get my three million?”
“Do you want war? We will keep you on this planet and forbid anyone from working with you.”
“It’s time to wrap this up then, Vargen. We are going in circles. If you want to cause me trouble, I’ll have something to say about it. You’re the only one in the red right now—you don’t have your ship parts and your rep has just taken a hefty blow. You’ve seen the video of Aalor’s demise. You think I’m so generous that I won’t share it with anyone else? I showed it to you so you could be the first to appreciate how your officer handled that battle. But if you insist on your position, I’ll be happy to upload it to the forums. How long will it take your guild to regain its current reputation—if at all? Who will contract a guild that can’t even deal with a single lone player? Don’t threaten me. I thought that we would be able to come to an agreement. I was mistaken. We can wrap this up the way we started and go one with our game.”
“You will receive 200,000 for the equipment,” Vargen also understood the need to agree in an amicable way. My position was stronger. “And we will sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“Three million and not one credit less,” I snapped. “Official status as a friend of your guild, help in the fight against the Fighting Breed and the nebula’s coordinates. In exchange you get the Zatrathi parts, the coordinates to the planet I mentioned and, most importantly, my silence. There were no player witnesses. Without the video, everyone will assume the Inevitable was destroyed due to navigation and equipment failure. No more. And you give me any B-class cruiser, so that I can pay Fighting Breed back and you can hold up your deal with them. Either way, we’ll take the three cruisers back from them later. And your reputation won’t suffer.”
Vargen was silent, but the fact that he didn’t simply get up and leave told me more than any words. The head of Liberium was ready to pay and was merely considering how.
“I need guarantees of your silence. We will sign a contract. Three million is too much. I am ready to offer 500,000.”
Several sets of ‘seven beauties’ had had their turn on stage before Liberium and Surgeon came to an agreement. I had Stan hire me a competent and very expensive lawyer who justified all the money invested in him. The first thing he did was tear the contract sent over by Vargen to little pieces, calling it legal shackles. Then Vargen’s lawyers showed up to defend their terms and a real battle broke out—no smaller than the one that had recently taken place at our roundtable aboard Alexandria. Only now all kinds of penalties and limitations started appearing alongside the terms. Finally, when all the legal details had been hammered out and the parties had signed, Vargen and I said goodbye.
“I cannot say it was nice to meet you, Surgeon, but I gained some good experience from it. We will fulfill our obligations under the contract and then our paths will part.”
“I’ll go explore the nebula in a couple of days,” I pretended not to hear anything. “I can sell you two spots on my crew.”
Under the agreement, I had received the nebula’s coordinates, the money, and a joint raid with Aalor against Fighting Breed. However, Liberium refused to recognize me as a friend of the guild. When it came to the raid, I had my doubts until Vargen revealed his reasons for being involved: the Breed hadn’t handed over all the Zatrathi parts and he wanted the full set. As a result the contract prohibited me from sharing any information. Regardless of how he feels about me, Aalor would do his job. Vargen did not demand being included in the research expedition, so I offered Liberium front row tickets with a clear conscience.
“Three. Your orbship has room for five passengers. Your Qualian will take up one, the other three will be my people. Eine will receive the findings but he will not participate.”
