Rising Tide: A LitRPG Novel (Age of Steam Book 1)

by Mitchell T. Jacobs

  Shane and the rest of the crew were smugglers now, and it showed. Their ship didn't even have a name, didn't fly any colors and wasn't on any of the official registries. That meant it couldn't be insured, but since they couldn't afford it right now it didn't matter. More importantly, the Iron Guild couldn't track them.

  And the secrecy would continue once they got back to Beylan. Players could sell goods on the market anonymously, and Shane wasn't about to attach their names to the sale of vanthum at such low prices. The Iron Guild would be on them in an instant. It meant letting the marketplace take a small cut, but that was well worth the small price they had to pay to stay out of sight.

  Anonymity would be their cloak, the only way they could fight back and wage their own small war against the overwhelming power of the guild. One ship and a four player crew could do little against such a vast, wealthy organization, but by remaining anonymous they could amplify their effect and possibly confuse their foes.

  But that was all in the future. First they had to get this load back to Beylan, and they had to do it safely. Shane looked over at the rest of his crew, watching the activity in the harbor.

  “We ready for this?”

  “What if I say no?” Bailey said.

  “Well, then it's probably too late to go back. But you don't really think that way, do you?”

  “Of course not. Just asking questions.”

  “So we're going through the south channel. Lights off, and we're going to try to stick to the southern shore. There's a lot of trees there, so it should help to break up our outline,” Kelvin said.

  “Is it a good idea to run with our lights off?” Brandon asked.

  “We'll stay far away enough from the shore that we won't have to worry about running aground or into the rocks.”

  “No, I meant that I wondered if it's a good idea to keep the lights off. If someone spots us that's bound to attract suspicion.”

  Shane saw his point. A ship traveling through the dead of night with its lights off would make any lookout suspicious, especially one looking for smugglers. But there were other factors to take into account.

  “We can't get stopped,” he said. “If we get stopped we're completely hosed. And having our lights on is going to give away our location. I don't want to have to cut and run either.”

  “We can do it,” Bailey said. “I haven't been inside one of the guild's patrol craft, but from the look of the things on the outside our engines are good enough to outrun them.”

  “Outrun a few of them in a chase, yes. What happens if they signal for help and get other ships converging on us from two or three directions?”

  “How are they going to manage that? Signal lamps only go so far, and flags are useless in the dark. And they're usually spaced pretty far apart to cover more ocean,” Bailey said.

  Kelvin spoke up. “Flares. If I had to guess it, they have some sort of system using flares. Different colors for different signals.”

  Shane nodded. “Noted. But I still think we should run with our lights off. Remember that a lot of the time they use searchlights. That's going to make it harder for them to see as well, and I think we have a good chance of sneaking by.”

  “Provided we don't get lit up,” Brandon said.

  “Well then, that's going to be on all of us, isn't it? You're going to have to keep your eyes peeled.”

  Kelvin looked over at the ship as the crane pulled back and the clockwork drones rolled away. “Looks like they're done loading up. I guess it's now or never.”

  “It is,” Shane said. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get this over with.”

  The engines had power far beyond anything that Bailey had seen for quite some time. Running their own ship had been difficult, especially when the guild began to put all their restrictions in place. Eventually the crew had ended up selling their ship and renting one from the Iron Guild's pool. With such low profit margins it had been hard to keep it fueled and in good repair.

  Nothing lasted forever in this world. All components, from the gears and nozzles in a steam rifle, to the precision instruments and massive guns on a large ship, everything eventually wore out and had to be replaced.

  That was the greatest difference between Age of Steam and so many other virtual worlds, in her opinion. It wasn't just a matter of acquiring a powerful weapon or gaining levels. Resources and trade ruled this world. Having the most powerful weapon meant little if a player couldn't afford to repair it when the components broke down, and all the high-level skills were essentially useless without the proper resources to activate and sustain them.

  That was what made the Iron Guild's dominance over the trade routes so crippling. Players had no choice but to pay their prices, because if they didn't they couldn't access high-level equipment. Having all manufacturing centered in Beylan only added to the problem. There were the four cities to the west, but since they could only be accessed after completing a long, high-level quest chain their usefulness was limited to most players…

  But Bailey didn't want to wait any longer. She missed being able to tinker with a ship, squeezing every last bit of performance she could manage out of the engines, improving the steering, the cabin layout, even just a little bit. To her the improvements were a secondary consideration. It was more about taking the ship and making it their own. The guild vessels seemed to lack an identity, a soul of sorts.

  “We're out on the open water,” Shane's voice echoed out of the brass speaking tube.

  “Boiler's holding steady for now,” Bailey said, speaking through the return tube. “I can increase the power at any time.”

  “Hold off for now. We're up at cruising speed. No need to put any extra stress on the engines.”

  “Got it. Give me a warning if you think we're going to need some extra power. It's going to take a few minutes for the extra coal to kick in.”

  “I'll let you know.”

  She thought about stepped out of the engine room for a moment and looking out over the sea, but Bailey thought better of it. Her job was to manage the engines, and she couldn't waste time getting distracted. Even a small ship like this needed a crew that worked together and performed their roles. Teamwork was key.

  And that meant staying in the engine room for now. It wasn't all bad, though. While she was waiting she could look over the machinery and think about ways to upgrade it. If they made it through this run unscathed they'd have a decent amount of cash to use on improving the ship.

  If.

  Brandon scanned the waters, looking for any signs of activity. He could see a few ships with their lights on, but he was almost certain that the guild patrols would keep their lights off to improve their stealth capabilities. They'd use the darkness to sneak up on unsuspecting smugglers, then turn their searchlights on to blind and scare their prey.

  But that would only happen if they spotted their ship, and Brandon kept a wary eye out, looking for any signs of trouble. So far so good, he thought as the vessel steamed along the shoreline.

  He felt nervous, though. Other than small arms their ship had no weapons, and even their speed might not be enough to save them if enough enemy ships converged on them at once. Brandon knew it was a waste of time and resources to send more than a few ships after a single target, but the Iron Guild would sometimes do it anyhow.

  It was about the principle of it to them, the intimidation factor. Smugglers were a thorn in their side, a threat to their complete control of the market, even if it was just a small one. The Iron Guild would do whatever it took to maintain their grasp on the trade routes, and if that meant overcommitting resources to stamping out the smuggling trade, then that was a price they were willing to pay.

  Even after paying the proper bribes and fees some of the Iron Guild enforcers could be a handful. Brandon remembered more than one that had tried to board their ship and throw their weight around, even after the crew provided them with paperwork from the guild. He understood why the Iron Guild had gained its power and then
kept it for so long. Some were probably just role-playing. Others didn't see any issues, since they had gained control within the confines of the game's rules.

  But there were others, players drunk on power that liked to lord their position over others, many of them borderline griefers. Brandon had seen plenty of those in the Iron Guild as well. It was where they got a good chunk of their support from, and in his opinion it represented an unfortunate shift in the player-base of Age of Steam. Like Shane had lamented, many of their friends had left the game, unable to cope with the vicious, unforgiving world that had suddenly unfolded before them.

  Brandon had stayed, but he often wondered whether he wanted to continue. The world seemed to be a shadow of itself from when he first started. There had always been conflict, espionage, backstabbing, skirting the law and the like, but it was always understood that it was a part of the game's charm. Now everything seemed so mean-spirited. The Iron Guild wanted to dominate, and they'd crush everyone in their way to get it.

  He wondered if it was too late for them to do anything about it. The guild had its claws in everything, and many players had simply given up. Those that stayed seemed to cling to the slim hope that things would eventually go back to the way things were. But was that even possible at this point? If-

  Brandon spotted something through his binoculars and focused his attention toward in. In the dark of night with the moon and stars blocked out by the clouds he had a hard time distinguishing it from its surroundings, but as he looked over the area again he thought he could see the outline of a ship, lights off.

  He opened up the speaking tube to the pilothouse. “Shane, we've got company. About fifty degrees to starboard.”

  “Distance?”

  Brandon looked through his binoculars again, then made a quick calculation in his head. “Maybe about eight-hundred yards? It's running about parallel to us, so I don't think they've spotted us.”

  “Think it's hostile?”

  “I don't know what to think. It could be another smuggler.”

  “Got it. Just keep me posted.”

  Brandon looked through his binoculars again at the other ship. Still no lights, and no way to tell what it was or who it might belong to. The suspense was making him very nervous.

  It could be nothing, or it could be one part of a larger enemy patrol. And if it was the second, they might be in serious trouble.

  “Sounds like trouble, huh?” Kelvin asked. He leaned back in his chair and looked forward toward Shane, seated at the controls.

  “Seems like it, but who knows? We're not the only ones that run at night with the lights off.”

  “That's true. But running with their lights off is a major red flag. Either they're another smuggler, or they're a guild patrol ship. One should be harmless. The other, not so much.”

  “But there's not much we can do about it right now. We still have about five miles to go until we reach the exclusion zone. And after that it's another three miles until we're safe.”

  Kelvin looked down at the sea chart. “Yeah. Not the greatest spot to be in right now. But at least you can do something about it. I've already set our directions, so I guess I'm just along for the ride.”

  “You might need to reroute us.”

  Kelvin smiled. “Ah, really? Where are we going, since any detour is going to be hundreds or thousands of miles. And where are we going to refuel if we do that? How are we going to do it too, since we're running low on funds?”

  He heard Shane chuckle. “You know what, you can just sit there and come along for the ride with the rest of us. And don't backseat drive either.”

  “I'll do that. Though I can't guarantee I'll do the second part, with the way you like to sail,” he joked.

  “Suit yourself, but if I start tossing things at you don't say I didn't warn you.”

  “I got it.”

  Silence passed between them for a few seconds.

  “Seriously though,” Shane said, “I think that this is a temporary thing. Normally you'd be on a gun mount in a situation like this. But since we have no weapons...”

  “No I get that,” Kelvin shrugged. “And I know I can sub in whenever I'm needed. It's just odd, really. Sitting around while everyone else does work.”

  “I think you've already done quite a bit of work. You're a merchant. The discounts you get from some of your perks are the only reason we were able to load up the ship with so much vanthum. And you're our accountant as well.”

  “Not a terribly exciting task.”

  “Not one that we want to skimp on either, because we're not idiots,” Shane said, giving him an amused glance. “You know how this game works. The ones that don't prepare and don't think longterm end up with no money and unable to use their good equipment.”

  “Which makes me useful. Even if the merchant specialization doesn't sound all that impressive.”

  “Hey, I'm all for the practical stuff,” Shane said. He looked out of the pilothouse windows, then leaned back toward the speaking tube to the lookout post. “Brandon, is the ship still out there?”

  “It's still out there,” Brandon replied, his voice tinny but audible. “Still running about the same course, and it doesn't look like it's going to come after us.”

  “OK, got it.” Shane leaned back in his chair. “So I guess that it's another smuggler?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Kelvin said, his mind trying to think of other possibilities. “It could be a patrol ship that's waiting for backup. Or one that doesn't see us.”

  “If it was waiting for backup then how would it have signaled for help? We don't have radios, I haven't seen any flares, and I'm pretty sure that Brandon would have spotted a signal lamp.”

  Kelvin nodded. “OK, so it's either another smuggler, or it's a patrol ship that hasn't spotted us. And with the route we're taking we don't have a lot of room to move away. Not if we want to avoid the risk of running aground.”

  “We still have a bit of space.”

  He looked down at the chart. “We do. But it's not a lot, and I think we need to save it for if we really get into trouble.”

  “Fine then. We'll keep going and hoping.”

  Kelvin looked back down at the chart, even though it would do them little good at this point. The only thing he could do was to wait and hope their luck would hold out.

  Brandon was in the process of making another sweep when a beam of light stabbed into the darkness, right where his binoculars were aimed. The contrast blinded him for a moment and made him flinch back. He had to blink several times to get his sight back, and he still saw spots.

  But he didn't need to have perfect vision to know what was happening. A searchlight probed the darkness, and if it fell on them...

  He leaned toward the speaking tube. “Shane?”

  “I see it. Hold on up there. I'm going to try to increase our speed so we can get out of the danger area.”

  “I'll keep an eye out,” Brandon said.

  He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. How far were they from the exclusion zone, from the safe waters around Beylan. Even a few miles could seem like hundreds when they were being chased. And though their vessel had powerful engines, this was the first time they were running it in a serious situation. Would it be enough? And would they be able to use its power to its full capabilities?

  Another light switched on toward the north, and Brandon felt a pang of fear in his chest. It faded, but the feeling still lingered.

  They were being hunted.

  “Bailey, we need more power immediately,” Shane said through the speaker tube.

  “What happened to giving me a warning?” she said.

  “Sorry. This got sprung on us.”

  Bailey moved over to the hopper, a two-stage unit with several levers and crank wheels. She adjusted the settings on the second stage of the hopper for the right amount of coal, then pulled one of the levers and filled it from the main hopper. Once that finished she flipped the lever back, then turned the crank wheel
on the secondary hopper. Coal poured into the furnace, slow enough to keep from snuffing out the fire.

  It would take a few minutes, but once the fire got going they could used the extra heat to make up for the extra steam power they were using. Bailey's main concern at this point was that they were going to use up all their energy before the boiler had a chance to replenish itself, and running out at the wrong moment could leave them dead in the water.

  She would have liked to have something else to use in a pinch like crushed fire crystal, but putting that inside a regular furnace damaged the components. The sheer amount of heat it generated would warp non-reinforced machinery, and if they weren't careful they could heat the boiler to the point that the pipes exploded.

  It was a balancing act, trying to keep the boiler performing at maximum efficiency without stressing it too much and causing a catastrophic failure. Maintaining that could be as nerve-wracking as any form of combat this world or any other virtual reality had to offer. It took concentration, plenty of skill, and a bit of luck, and skilled engineers were extremely valuable.

  “OK, coal is on, but it's going to be a few minutes, so don't start cranking up the power and wasting it all,” she said.

  “Understood. I'm not sure we've been spotted yet, but I want to make sure we can get away. It's looking like we have to.”

  “They found us?”

  “Theres's two ships with searchlights out there… make that three of them.”

  “Are we cut off?”

  “Not yet, and doesn't look like they've found us. But...”

  Bailey waited for a moment for him to respond, but Shane didn't say anything. She wasn't sure whether to take that as a good sign or not.”

  “Shane?”

  “Sorry about that. Stand by for now.”

  She frowned. “Wait, what kind of answer is that? Are we in trouble?”