by Arthur Stone
Inspecting the bot revealed information that Cheater had never seen shown for players or NPCs.
Object — immune autonomous bot. Presumably an elite bot. Humanity: 0, undefined. Armament: FN Five-seveN pistol. No Continental abilities detected.
As he took a pull from a thin cigarette, the officer addressed him with distain. “What’s your name?”
The captive saw no reason to play the silent game. “Cheater.”
“Cheater? I knew a Cheater. You don’t look like him.”
“I’m not the only Cheater in the world. It’s a common nickname.”
“What were you doing near the base? Spying on us?”
“Come on, how could I be a spy? I didn’t even know your base was nearby. I was just hunting.”
“Just hunting, you say?”
“Yes. Your people should have noticed ghou—er, slain infecteds on the shore. Those beasts fell to my bow.”
The officer blew a stream of smoke into Cheater’s face. It had a strange stench to it, as if rotten fruit had been added to the mix. Without turning towards anyone, the man gave a command. “Show me his weapon.”
One of the soldiers came into view from behind Cheater’s chair, stretched out the bow, and froze in a bent posture.
After another puff of smoke, the officer confirmed. “This is yours?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the tension on it? Never mind. A bow is allowed. But a gun was found in your boat. Do you have a weapons permit?”
“What?!” Cheater was taken aback.
The officer blew more smoke in his face and nodded slightly. A blow struck Cheater in the head so savagely that the room turned into an artist’s depiction of the formation of the Milky Way, in a universe where all galaxies were pretzel shaped.
“Let me ask you again: Do you have a permit for your gun?”
“I’ve never seen a weapon permit before. We don’t need permits in this place.”
“That’s not for you to decide. Where’d you get the gun? Did you steal it?”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“In a village on the water.”
“Which village.”
“I could show you the place on a map. I don’t know its name.”
“So this gun was lying on the shore in some village you don’t know the name of. I doubt that.”
“No, it wasn’t on the shore. It was in one of the houses. In an open weapon safe.”
“I assume the house was not abandoned?”
“There was no one living there. All of the owners had fled.”
“Correction: they were evacuated, to satisfy anti-epidemic regulations. Either that, or they became victims of the epidemic themselves. Which means you’re a marauder.”
“What? By that logic, you’re all marauders, too. We have to survive somehow, you know!”
The officer nodded again, and Cheater took another blow to the head. He heard the next question before the stars had faded. “Do you have a registration document for the boat?”
It took all that Cheater had not to laugh hysterically at the question. He answered as politely as possible to avoid another blow. “No, sir.”
“So you took advantage of the absence of the boat’s owner and stole it, too?”
“No, my traveling companion gave it to me.”
“Ah, so this companion gave you the boat, but not the registration for it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. Do you yourself have a license for operating small water vehicles?”
“No.”
“I see. Who’s this companion of yours?”
“His name is March.”
“Where can I find him? What’s his residential address?”
“I don’t know. He’s a vagabond, a traveler, always on the move.”
“So, without any license to operate a motorboat, you collected it from this elusive March so you could go for a ride.”
“That’s correct.”
“Did you single-handedly perpetrate the mass murder on the shore, or did those accomplices who were captured with you help? Perhaps this March took part in the crime as well?”
“Mass murder? Crime? What do you mean?”
“At the beginning of our conversation, you admitted voluntarily, without the slightest coercion, that you killed those infected individuals. That was an act of mass murder. So I ask again, did you commit that crime alone, or was it with accomplices?”
“A crime? They’re infecteds! Beasts, ghouls, cannibals. We have to kill them, or they tear us to shreds. What do you expect us to do, make love to them?”
“Do you have a license to kill infected individuals? Or at least some document serving as evidence that you work for a government organization and that it is part of your official duties to at times wield military weapons against those who are infected?”
“No one can possibly obtain such documents. They’re ghouls. In this world, everyone kills them, everywhere. Because if you don’t kill them, they kill you without a moment’s warning.”
“Infected people have rights.”
“People? Rights?”
“As soon as our scientists develop a vaccine, all of these victims’ lives will return to normal. So you killed them?”
Cheater wanted to argue with the man’s premises, but by now he realized the futility of that course of action, so he simply nodded. “Yes. It was wrong of me.”
“Where did you come from?”
“In what sense?”
“What place were you located at before you came to this contaminated area?”
“Pyramid.”
“The criminal center?”
Despite the surprising description, Cheater understood that the man meant the stable, so he nodded again. “Yes.
The place is full of thieves and bandits and all kinds of debauchery and games of chance.”
The bot grew noticeably more interested. “How many thieves and gangsters are there in the base? Who is the gang’s leader? What is he like? What sort of weapons does the gang possess, and what are their plans?”
The questions kept coming, so Cheater knew the topic of the stable interested the bot. He had given up any hope of intelligible communication by this point, so he figured he might as well have some fun. “At least nine hundred and fifty of them. Perhaps more by now.
It was difficult to count them correctly, and some are doubtless in hiding. The only way I know they exist is the rumors that wander the streets.”
“Where are these people hiding?”
“Underground, in secret bunkers. They have steel doors four feet thick, and very few people are allowed in, least of all me. The gang leader goes by the name of Merciless. And he is truly known for sparing no man, woman, or child. To be honest, he even looks like a beast. He’s about seven foot five, nearly four hundred pounds of pure muscle. If anyone insults or contradicts him, he pulls their heart out on the spot and eats it raw. All who live in Pyramid fear him, and of the infecteds, even the elites dare not approach. They have tanks, armored personnel carriers, pickup trucks with machine guns, railroad guns, and at least one atomic bomb. As for their plans, they have several. I mostly hear rumors of the general inebriation they wish to spread everywhere once they have conquered the world.”
The officer listened intently to all of this nonsense, then steepled his fingers.
“So we have a boat hijacker, marauder, and murderer who has illegally taken possession of another man’s firearm. He is also connected with the gang in the rebel base Pyramid and refuses to give us any true information about said gang. I believe he is a spy for the bandits themselves. In a state of emergency, all of this is grounds for execution by firing squad. But your punishment can wait. I will try again to persuade you to cooperate with us since we are extremely interested in accurate information about Pyramid. Sergeant Tsagen, please conduct a frank conversation with our guest on the benefits of honesty. The methods of conversation you employ are at your discreti
on. Just remember that he must remain conscious and still have the capability to use his gift of speech. I know you love brain injuries, but keep those to a minimum, please.”
Chapter 28
Life Seven: The Night Terror, and Half of HQ
When Cheater came to, he began twitching again, even though the fists and rubber hoses were no longer present. He realized the torture was in the past when he felt the familiar ribbed metal floor and saw the light streaming through the holes in the ceiling.
Back in the mobile prison block.
He counted all of his ribs. Carefully, and more than once.
Bastards...
Georgy sat with his hands shackled to the wall, squinting to make sure his cellmate was awake. Then, his gaze returned to the void. His voice was full of sadness. “They got you pretty good.
Brought you in by your arms and legs.”
“I forgot to thank them for carrying me.”
“Right. You’re a weakling.”
“I never said I was tough.”
“I guess that’s my fault. I have high Endurance, so they probably thought you were the same. But your level is much lower.”
“Where’s Physic?”
“Where do you think?”
“Oh.”
“At least it smells better in here without him. But he was not in the best of spirits when he left. I came back beat up but conscious, you got carried in knocked out cold... You can imagine what ole’ shitpants assumed was coming next.”
“Yeah. Not the best trend. What did they ask you about?”
“They’re bots. No use trying to make sense of them. First they pin all of these crimes on you. Then, they beat you, asking you for information. Trying to get you to rat on somebody. But actually ratting will do you no good. No matter what you say, their reaction is the same. You can give them the secrets of the world and everyone in it, and they’ll still beat you.”
“And after that? What comes next?”
“They have farms along the coast, and out on islands in the sea. The moles and bots build them. There, all sorts of experiments are performed on captured players, or blood and organs are collected to give to the razers. But the coast is far from here. So they’ll probably finish us off once they’re done with Physic. Lead us out and shoot us.”
A loud, unknown sound rattled the metal walls and especially the door, followed by a continuous volley from a large-caliber machine gun.
Georgy grew tense. “What’s this now?”
“An infected, maybe,” Cheater offered.
An autocannon joined the machine gun, letting loose one round after another.
“Must be,” Georgy nodded. “Hear that music? They’re not sparing the shells. Definitely a big infected. Those things go for thirty peas apiece in Pyramid. Just imagine how much money they’re blowing out of that cannon!”
Another mysterious noise preceded a roar and a rattling sound. The machine gun stopped, but that didn’t quiet things down. A mighty battle was raging just outside. The bots had not responded in unison, but soon everything they had was involved. Two cannons were going, and then another explosion rocked the walls. Rifles joined the fray, and then another big machine gun, though not quite as big as the first. This was clearly not a small pack of runners but something much worse.
“Can you get the door open?” Cheater asked.
“With what, my finger?”
“I’ve got a knife hidden.
The plastic bands binding our hands can be cut easily enough. But I have no idea what to do about the door. Maybe you happen to have an ability that helps with locks or something.”
“No, my gift is worthless here. I doubt I can get it open with a knife—there’s probably no access to the lock from our side. But my Strength is pretty good. I could try breaking it. Just get my hands free. I can’t get them in front of me; I’ve tried.”
After a number of tries and painful pops of his joints, Cheater finally had his hands in position. He drew his knife and began sawing at the strip of white plastic.
It was unexpectedly strong, and the blade refused to bite into it. He was coming at it from the wrong angle.
The walls trembled mightily at the sound of another shot, followed by an explosion.
“They’ve got the tank out? Come on, man, cut! If one of those shells hits this box, it’ll be our tomb!”
As if to confirm his words, a ringing sound vibrated the metal as several fairly holes were punched into the dungeon.
“Unless the shrapnel goes through next time, we’ll catch it on the ricochet,” Georgy warned.
Cheater worked with such haste that he cut his wrist in two places. But at last, his hands were free.
“Turn around!” he commanded Georgy.
Cutting the other man’s binds was much easier. Once the deed was done, his cellmate retreated to the far wall, crouched, ran, and exhaled sharply as he slammed his shoulder into the wall.
The move had no effect, save the man’s face producing a pained grimace and an exquisite swear word.
“The bastards sure built this thing tough. We’ll have to try something else. Here, sit against this wall and I’ll lie down. Alright, you brace my shoulders and I’ll try to kick it out.”
His blows seemed powerful, but still the door gave no hint of surrender. Another explosion hit close by, but there were no fresh holes in the metal. However, it did feel like one of the neighboring cell blocks might have been hit. Cheater was surprised to feel so few bullets striking the box. Dozens of guns were firing non-stop outside, so he might have expected multitudes of rounds shredding them to bits. The bulk of the fun must have been in a different area.
“I’ll break my own bones before I break this door down, dammit!” Still Georgy bent his legs for the next blow.
That moment, the lock clicked open, followed by the door. Physic looked in. His eyes were frightened, but otherwise he was fine. No blood streaks on his face, no miserable bruising of his eyes or neck. Completely unharmed.
He greeted them with a crazed smile. “I thought of leaving you two jerks here, but then I remembered that Georgy still owes me some money.
So pay up, you bastard!”
Georgy was speechless for a moment. “Why... why didn’t they torture you?”
“I just kept talking, that’s the key. They can’t beat you as long as your mouth is running. Seriously, try it. They’re so stupid they’ll just listen and listen and listen.”
“Keep chatting, weirdos, but I’m getting out of here,” Cheater said in a hurry as he pushed past Georgy.
“Where are you off to?” Physic chided. “There’s an elite out there, enjoying the place like Georgy in a candy store. And when I say elite, I mean elite. It bent the tank’s gun so it points up now and tore off its tracks.”
“An elite, you say. Then I’m really getting out of here!”
Physic stepped back and pointed at the mobile barracks. “If we make a break for those barracks, move down the slope on the other side, and then split up, one or two of use might make it.
An elite can’t chase us all at once. We’ll take three different cars and beat it. The bots are so stupid they tried to ascend the slope and fight, so tall the vehicles are there. This is our chance.”
Cheater exited the room and looked around. It seemed there was no movement near the barracks, but it was too dark to be sure. On the others side of the camp, though, an armored infantry vehicle was in flames, a torch to light the camp. The other armored car was on its side next to the first. The tank which had been positioned between them was no longer anywhere to be seen. How did Physic know about the bent cannon and the damage to its tracks?
No time to think about that now. I’m looking for HQ. The two large vehicles were no longer adjoined. One stood in place, but looked to be in rough shape, specifically, in the shape of a shredded pancake. The other truck looked better. It seemed someone had driven it forty yards down the incline and then jumped out, leaving the door wide open behind him. Th
rough the missing wall, Cheater could see the long table, overturned and lit by flame. The chairs had been scattered, and something resembling a human body lay among them.
All of this, he observed as he ran. For he was running not to the barracks, but the headquarters.
He leaped into the truck, then crept over to what he thought was the officer’s body. It was. The very same bot who had interrogated him! Only his uniform and the decorations on it allowed him to identify the headless corpse.
He yanked the pistol from the dead man’s holster. It wasn’t a bad pistol, for sure, but what use was it against an elite that could tie tank guns into knots? He found his bow under the overturned table, and the arrows a minute later.
During that time, the flash of a grenade allowed him to see a running, almost flying, dark angular form very similar to the one that had almost captured his boat in the water.
He doubted that two such beasts could be sustained by such sparsely populated territory. They certainly would not get along. So this was likely Cheater’s new friend. Only the bots could help kill it, since an elite of this level could easily wipe out squadrons of players many times stronger than he was. Only large-caliber volleys or powerful explosions could kill it. Or remarkable cunning, or reliance on Luck, which sometimes helped. After all, even a small explosion behind the elite’s back could be the golden ticket. One piece of shrapnel flying the right way would kill it. The sporesac was still vulnerable from a very specific direction, after all, despite its shield.
One of the mobile barracks shuddered down the hill. Someone had started the truck and was trying to move it forwards or backwards to loosen the racks it had been anchored to, which had been used to set up the external elements. The anchors seemed secure, so Cheater was unsure whether the truck would be able to move at all. But that wasn’t his problem.
His plan had been to rush back to the barracks, but no longer. Now, he would drive the HQ truck. And the rest of the structure would be dragged along behind it.
Decided, he jumped to the ground. Bad idea. He didn’t fall, but he ended up right in front of a bot who had appeared from who knows where. Nearly took his head off. The bot ran, hastily changed magazines in his gun as he did. He managed to turn around, eyes wide, to see Cheater’s fist smack him in the jaw, followed by a kick to the knee and a second kick to the bot’s head, which was already on the ground.