by D. Rus
And I liked the things my mind associated with the word: the world’s most gorgeous Slavic girls, the smell of early morning autumn cold, the flowery meadows with birds chirping, the well-attended ancestral graves, the steel-hard foreign policy, and the armor of its tank armies. It was all mine, my very own.
I opened my eyes. "Fine, but your guys will need to be deeply undercover..."
Lazar gave a sigh of relief. He wasn’t alone.
"Thanks, Max. Excuse the platitude, but the Motherland is grateful. As for going undercover – can you accept them into the clan? Temporarily, of course."
I beat the Analyst to the reply and said with a frown, "I don’t need someone else’s subordinates! Anyone who joins the clan shall abide by this clan’s current chain of command only. The Children of the Night have but one leader."
The Grumbler nodded understandingly. "Yessir, no complaints. The deserving retirees of the Company have seen life. They know discipline better than us. They will obey you and no one else. Should they need to take outside orders, they will leave the clan or ask your permission."
I barely held back from a suspicious "hm." Sure they will, I thought, just like that. Whether I wanted it or not, there was no such thing as a "former Grumbler." They would always remain the products of the Company.
But this wasn’t my primary concern. Surviving till Monday was.
"Agreed. Now, back to the problems at hand. What ideas did you say you came up with?"
Lazar smiled. "Ones you could expect from someone like me. But first tell me, how many Astral Mana Absorption scrolls do you have?"
I took the massive binder out of my inventory, flipped to the relevant section and pulled ten pages out. "There you go," I said.
Nobody needed to know about the spare set I had stashed away for a rainy day.
The Grumbler started setting precious Reset Potions on the table like a show magician. Three... Five... Ten... Twelve!
I drooled at the sight of them. In addition to its mighty useful spell and ability counter reset effect, the potion also boasted the delicious flavor of custard with orange juice.
"Make that twenty-two AMA scrolls total."
I nodded in agreement. We could also pump out a whole stack of Portals to Inferno. An exceedingly topical problem in these times.
Orcus carefully picked up a vial and looked at the magic light within. "What are we to do with them?"
Lazar got up as if to make a mission briefing. "Out of all the issues we must deal with, I took the Chinese upon myself. Simply put, our goals are as follows: help the good guys, chase away and punish the bad ones, and scare the shit outta the rest. We don’t have many forces to spare. Our physical resources are quite limited, but we still have a few trump cards. And we are gonna play them!"
The Grumbler paused as he waited for the pretty rosy-cheeked waitress to pass out the drinks and leave.
I shook my fist at Widowmaker, who could not hold back and allowed himself the liberty of touching the girl. Focus, playboy!
Lazar eyed the long, heavy curtains skeptically, then went on, lowering his voice, "All of the Revanchists’ main forces – their elite – are here now. They laid siege to our castles. They hang by Tianlong, attack independent farms and mansions. About fifteen thousand more are systematically strangling our Maoist allies and their partners. They’ve lost over a third of their base stations at this point. The rest are under siege, about to give up."
I nodded; he was right. The Mao’s Legacy boys were cut off from their main mobilized resource – the Mercs. Shui Fong had made an official, weighty announcement – anyone who joined the Crafter Alliance would make the clan’s KOS-list, including in the real world. This made the number of volunteers shrink significantly.
Now the workers were well-off, but with a pretty lame fighting force. Napoleon was right: those who do not wish to feed their own army will soon be feeding someone else’s.
The Maoists still stood. Mostly thanks to their allies, who no doubt had already cursed the day they joined the shady Russians. We had made a good impression at first, having schooled the big boss in the hood, but ran off quicker than we’d appeared.
Lazar suggested, "Given all this, here is my plan: come X-Hour, we take down the dome shields on all twenty-two Revanchist castles, thus allowing Mao’s Legacy warriors to seize and destroy the defenseless citadels. They will get a third of their assets along with transportable possessions, and the enemy Alliance will be significantly weaker."
My greedy pig reared up in indignation, feeling for a sword with which to strike down this plunderer and defend what could potentially be ours.
The Grumbler, unaware of this threat, continued with enthusiasm, "Having lost half their properties, the invasion army will be forced to return to its cluster where all the local jackals will jump on the wounded lion. The fight for locations that lack castle protection will be huge!"
The Analyst joined in, "Are the allies strong enough? Storming twenty castles at once is not the same as sitting under a dome’s protection!"
"They should be strong enough. Six thousand Maoists is a light snack for seventy thousand Revanchists. But! This is obviously enough for allotting three hundred warriors for the occupation of each citadel. The Chinese went all out. Their familial houses have given their best in the hope of getting a Dome Shield and mobile reinforcements."
I summarized the situation out loud, "We have taken overpopulated castles with three hundred before, no issues there. I even believe that the allies can reach the Control Room and retrieve the property. But there’s no chance of keeping it. I mean none."
Lazar shrugged. "That’s what I suggested, and the Chinese agreed – to destroy with a rollback of one third of the price."
I looked him straight in the eye. "And then what?"
"The Revanchists go home, we occupy the tight castle quarters and split the scanty inheritance. We will disintegrate their alliance in time. If we attack the right targets, they will lose up to eighty percent of their productive and economical capacity, along with their reserves and all the key control points. It’s a mortal wound the alliance won’t recover from."
"But they will surely wipe out the Maoists."
Lazar nodded. "It’s inevitable. But to make the enemy die at their own grave fits the local philosophy perfectly."
I stared into space thoughtfully, tuning out for a few minutes and warming up my consciousness. As I returned back to the real world, I saw something interesting: the officers watched the clan leader’s thought process with fascination, expecting the birth of another salvational ingenuity.
Can’t disappoint them! I thought.
"Good plan. Solid tactics…" I told Lazar.
He accepted my praise calmly, taking it for granted.
I continued, "But… strategically, it’s a flop. It doesn’t account for our long-term interests and sacrifices our allies too lightly. Basically, it needs improvement!"
Lazar raised a brow ironically, then used my own words on me, "When you criticize, advise! I’m no leader, I don’t plan for centuries in advance. I was presented with a task, so I came up with the cheapest and most rational solution."
I nodded reassuringly. "Like I said, good plan. But we will make it even better. First, we will seize one castle ourselves. The best castle! We don’t need the crust, but we will take all the filling! A quality castle probably has goodies worth ten million gold, and boy, do we need the money."
My greedy pig purred in agreement, toadying to me by massaging my shoulders. My officers also expressed approval: the beating our golems had gotten called for reparations.
"Secondly! This is all way too small-scale! Why just half the castles?! What's this about leaving the prey wounded without finishing it off? Why just the Chinese? What about our two alliances which will be left penniless, if not by the Chinese, then surely by the light-siders?! Do they not need money for repairs?"
Again, everyone agreed. Lazar acted like a curious parrot – his head tilted
sideways, he listened attentively and without interrupting.
"So, here’s what we’ll do," I said. "We’ll summon all the clan leaders in our alliance, then make them an offer they won’t be able to refuse. Let them pile up the Reset Potions and prepare their armies. They will all fight! We will strip the castle to its foundations, sell it, then retreat. We will have a place in the Valley to store loot. That’s where we will go after selling our own citadels. It’s a temporary solution anyway, whether we win or lose."
My officers wondered at these last words, while I went on, "I’ll make that same offer to a coupla Japanese clans and our Korean Gimhae friends. They’re not gonna want to miss out – the Chinese are their age-old enemy. With the Maoists, our alliances and the Japanese, we will take at least fifty castles, leaving the Royalists registered bums."
Lazar woke up. "They won’t forgive this. Some of them will surely scatter, but Mao’s Legacy will be done for. Even an encounter with a few army left-overs will quickly end in their crushing defeat."
I smiled. "And this is the best part. No need to wait around for revenge. They can pack up, sell their lands, and move to our Valley. They’re hard-working, peaceful, loyal and grateful. Where else are we to find such vassals? Plus, an extra six thousand fighters won’t hurt."
"Whoa, hello, fifth column!" Orcus gasped in alarm. "Hostile agents will surely sneak in with the rest!"
"That’s why we have you! All right, cool it! They’ll first have to pass Tianlong, then the hounds."
Lazar shook his head. "Max, you don’t get it! You can’t let the Chinese come here: they won’t assimilate even in a thousand years. They’ll multiply, get their relatives to come over, preserve their culture and language and turn into one giant pillar bound by one faith. Our ancestors had welcomed newcomers many times – then got sick of chasing them out. Entire Chinese battalions served the Commies following the revolution. They all either got shot or sent back to their homeland. They’re not like us. To befriend and help them is a must. But to invite them over to live in your own home is a death sentence!"
I thought it over. The Grumbler was worth listening to. He was a smart guy, clearly familiar with Asians, and didn’t just learn Chinese for free, like some of us did. "What do you suggest?"
"We can take some migrants, but no more than ten percent of the Valley’s population. Second: since everything’s such a mess, and the Maoists are of more use to us as loyal allies, we must aid them within the limits of our native cluster. If we force them to flee, the rest of the world will think the Russian cluster craves vengeance. I’ll get in touch with Vietnam and India with the Company’s help. There’re enough volunteers there who wish to safely bite the lion and loot its den. Your plan will have another dimension as we shorten the lion’s agony and display the true might of the bear woken during winter!"
The officers were pleased at that. I nodded my assent and stood up straight. "Accepted! You men are to finalize and perfect the details. We barely have time. The mission will begin at 5 a.m. sharp. Now get to work!"
Chapter Fourteen
NSA City. The Virtual World Department
The AlterWorld Sector (Underground floors 61 through 74)
Strategy and Ops Planning office (Zone "Yellow" - limited access)
Aggregate group number 7, Forces of Light Headquarters ("FOHL")
Staff:
AIs: 409th flow of the registered AI "Grand," 12th flow of AI-378, pseudo-AI systems: 831АА, 933АА and 982АА.
Premium staff: Analyst, Predictor, Strategist, Tactician.
Advisory groups: Game Death, Shrinks, Slavists, Crowd Control, Unit-0, Cassandra.
Operating reserve and enhancement tools: Agencies in both real and virtual worlds, Power supply group, Legal protection group, Tech and Special Tools supply group, Available funds: "Gold-9."
Headquarters conference at the end of the working week.
A fragment of the intercepted internal security cameras’ video stream.
Decoding of the infopackets: AI "Isayev".
...The man with eyes of steel sitting at the head of the table firmly held the Analyst’s gaze, making the latter sweat. The Analyst once again adjusted his tie that felt too tight, and went on with his report:
"During the capture attempt, Puppet employed artifacts with hitherto unknown properties that are not compatible with our current game stations (dump urgency: 97.3%).
"Now, the Staff. Warrior casualties due to the artifact are 47%. The virtual SWAT avatars became useless following an irremovable debuff."
The holoprojector silently came on, displaying a 3D image before the NSA intellectual elite.
The sight of the First Priest frozen in the middle of the fight instilled fear. The ideal beauty of the Impossible fascinated even the most dispassionate pros. Blurred outlines of the pink blade had turned the air into boiling plasma.
"The Dagger object. Warrior casualties equal 34%. Avatars – fully destroyed. The physics of this process remain unclear. The game mechanics don’t really allow it."
The next shot was a psychological resilience test for those present. Blood, shredded bodies, twitching piles of bluish bowels, and a lumpy sea of furry spiders.
None were squeamish. Everyone had interested looks on their faces, craving knowledge and sensing their chance to gain something.
"The Armed Forces casualties had almost gone comatose during the standard electroshock ‘perma’ check. They all claim that they have been in Lloth’s halls. The casualties’ state of feeling showed that the torture continued non-stop from one to three weeks."
Clank, clank, clank...
The pictures changed, showing the frightening goddess, the comatose bodies and the blackened eyes of those who returned from warrior Purgatory.
"Two of the SWAT guys reported achieving Lloth’s Junior Priest status. The others remain withdrawn. They refrain from talking and are fully immune to hypnosis and partially immune to psychotropic drugs. The warriors have been committed to the Military’s Mental Hospital. They exhibit a severe virtual-world phobia. Their ability to work in full immersion is highly questionable at this point."
The speaker downed some pricey bottled water, then looked askance at the Department head and continued hurriedly,
"Following a series of strange incidents, the patients were transferred to Arizona-6, the quarantine unit with maximum Prime Module security. They demonstrate strong spikes of psion activity, spontaneous hypnocoding of others through direct contact, and the ability to instill emotions, including uncontrollable fear, panic, and fanatical devotion."
Clank: the 3D image of a technician who had hung himself made the Predictor cringe. His hyperactive mind quickly filled in the omitted details – the bowel stench and the squeaking sound of a leather belt from which the cold, pale body dangled in the AC breeze.
Clank: Guardhouse incident. A quarrel that had ended in a shooting. Three surprised-looking corpses.
Clank: the image of a guard with a vacant stare trying to unlock the airtight door of a module. A Taser's charge was reaching out for his neck from the contact block in the ceiling – the Security Service AI had quickly responded to his unauthorized attempt to breach the perimeter.
"Controlling the isolation ward is difficult due to the insane aggression of the local spiders. They crawl in from all over the desert, destroying the equipment and attacking the staff. Extermination is in progress."
The info panel on the wall flickered, drawing the speaker’s attention as it displayed a picture of a lean-looking middle-aged man with a patch of gray on his head. The AI Grand’s visual avatar made the remark,
"The object catalog has grown by one category, the new ‘A+.’ Acquisition and studying of class ‘A+’ artifacts have been given their own separate flow and assigned to group 32."
The Analyst nodded his thanks and carried on:
"The Armed Forces Group has saved 19% of its avatars, but their psychological state is unsatisfactory. The warriors are undergoing rehabili
tation. Because all administrative control of the AlterWorld is now lost, acquiring new warriors is not currently an option. The login server is ignoring all attempts to create hidden and service class characters."
Looking at Grand, he paused for a bit, awaiting the AI’s reaction. Receiving only a slight shrug in response, the Analyst sighed heavily and continued speaking,
"The remainder of the Virtual SWAT are no longer subordinates of the FOLH headquarters. Their premium staff groups have been assigned a low professional fitness score. That’s all I have."
The Department Head tensed his jaws, tapped his fingers on the table pensively, then turned to the info panel. "Grand, can you add anything?"
"The priority of seizing Puppet has doubled. Current state: Alpha Prime. The task of establishing contact with Lloth has been given its own separate flow and assigned to group 34."
Taking over the projector, the AI launched a presentation that it generated on the go. As always, it was overloaded with charts and diagrams.
"...According to the admin base dumps, the AlterWorld contains six adamant artifacts. We suspect that ten more do exist, but this information is secret. We know the certain location of only two of the artifacts.
"The tactical Stealth group was destroyed while attempting to steal the Yu-Huang Bell. The avatars received a permanent Curse of the God debuff.
"There’s no known way to get Asclepius’s Scalpel right now. A group of analysts and programmers is trying to create a chain of minor level-1 interventions. These are designed to lead to our acquisition of this precious artifact.
"I have no further information and will proceed to work on the current stack of tasks. AI Grand-409 has finished reporting."
While everyone kept staring at the panel after it went blank, the Head called the next specialist up front. "Strategist! Report the real-world-group losses on the territories of Russia, Little Russia, and New Russia!"
A bulky man, his eyes red from insomnia, got up from his armchair with some effort. "The military escort groups have lost 72%. They had been used at random. They can be replenished with petty criminals, the youth opposition movement, and frontier state fighters. The losses were justified.