“Hit. Target One destroyed.” I could see one of the dots fade. From the height I was at, I couldn’t really make out anything below. The maximal zoom revealed only small areas and not the whole picture. Without the ship’s AI, I could hardly have been capable of spotting and appraising the targets’ moves.
The ship’s aiming systems were far from perfect. The most advanced ones in the shop were priced outrageously, forcing me to go with the best option I could afford.
“Missile deviation by 1 degree. Target Two: no damage. Adjust aim?”
A brief exchange through mental messages. I aimed at the second fighter that went bustling about, trying to understand what had happened to its peer.
“Abrupt change of target height. Active all-range scanning. Ship detected,” the AI informed flatly once I could already see the alien fighter approaching me rapidly.
The outer sensors transferred the visual image to me at once, zooming in at the approaching. It looked like a disc truncated at one side. Deciding to keep the height distance, I sent my ship up, heading out of the planet’s atmosphere.
ATTENTION! Critical height. You are forbidden to rise above 75 miles above ground. Descend immediately to avoid a coercive quest termination and defeat.
What the fuck? I was outraged. What about space battles? Traveling from one planet to another?
It was not going to allow me any time for thought as it started the countdown, the message in bold font still hanging before my eyes.
Well, I’ll sort you out later. I pushed the yoke, making the ship descend gradually. “Aiming adjustment complete?”
“Three adjustment options available on the current course. Which to apply?”
I appraised all three at a glance, choosing the one most convenient for subsequently taking an attack position.
Adjustment option two. I marked it mentally in the interface, starting to get used to that, and pulled the trigger at virtually the same moment, shooting missiles at the target. The AI signaled that the adjustment process had been completed.
“Triple hit. Target destroyed.”
“Phew,” I breathed. The sight of the ascending ship ready to start shooting at me had made my palms sweaty.
Scan. When the second target faded on the tactical map, I descended to the ten-mile height, checking once again if there were any enemies posing a threat to me.
No more above-ground targets. I could get to the ground machines that had advanced even more during the brief air fight.
“Locked on. Course adjusted”
Automatic fire, I commanded, deciding not to release the missiles personally; there was little point in doing that when I couldn’t see anything on the ground and was fully relying on the aiming systems.
“Five out of ten targets hit. Adjust the ship position for better aiming?”
Yes. Fire without notice.
The ship changed its position several times, shuddering at the missile release. My role was that of an observer. Unlike the other game where you had to do all manipulations with the ship personally, this game delegated much to the fighter AI. On one hand, that was unusual; but on the other, it allowed you to concentrate on the general picture of the battle, leaving ship micromanagement to the artificial assistant.
“All targets hit,” the AI informed. The system messaged popped up in a moment:
Level 3 quest complete: YU876BN Planet
You get 4,000 credits. Task complexity increased. Bonus increased to x20. You gain +10 reputation with the Wargs.
Level up! Congratulations!
Level up! Congratulations!
You have unlocked one skill slot.
You get 5 skill points.
“Here come the perks.” Overjoyed, I looked my newly reached level 5, then at the newly added skill slot and the skill points. I’ve just gained 800 dollars from a single fight! Life’s not that bad.
Quest complete. Select the available trophies to be added to your warehouse.
The system continued to surprise me by showing me the menu listing a dozen of trophies that I could add to the warehouse. Each item had a list price at which it could be sold. That will be really useful once I get too many trophies and have to choose which to carry and which to leave.
Sure, I took all of them. Fortunately, my warehouse could accommodate far more items than that.
I also noted the extremely simplified looting procedure for fighter pilots. It made sense—an infantryman could take a walk about the battlefield to collect the loot, how was a pilot to do the same? The remnants of enemy aircrafts could be scattered over a huge area with no reliable means to locate them.
Autopilot to the landing pad, I commanded the AI. While it turned the ship around and down, I took a closer look at my new trophies. They were mainly parts of armor and instruments from the ground vehicles. I got only one burned engine from the fighters and a fragment of hull. Not much, really. But even a 100 credits for all of the armor pieces were a good bonus on top of what I had already earned for this rather brief fight.
When I landed onto the pad, the game teleported me back. In five seconds, I was back at the central square.
Go to the hangar to see the trophies, or find Masha? The choice I had made wasn’t in the girl’s favor; I was too eager to see the fighter’s engine.
Again, I praised myself for buying an apartment that close to the square; it was a short distance away from the spawning spot. Actually, it was close to everything I needed.
Ascending to my floor, I went to the warehouse straight away.
The first thing that caught my eye was my fighter being slightly smoky, no longer looking brand-new. On its tail I saw a round chip. As I came up and felt the smooth edge with my finger, I realized that it had apparently been left behind by the enemy fire.
How am I to repair that? The familiar panel by the door caught my eye, making me come closer. The menu list was extensive; fortunately, the newest messages were marked with exclamations.
The first of those informed me about the trophy addition and the cost of refueling, and the very last one offered automatic repairs at 100 credits. This price was quite reasonable, so I selected Yes to see how the repairs would proceed. Surprisingly, they were not instant; instead of merely updating the ship and fully restoring its integrity, the system informed me that the work would take an hour, with the repair drones arriving no sooner than ten minutes.
So I had to wait, then let the repair drones into the hangar. They descended from above; I didn’t even know that the ceiling had wings that could open. The drones started with the chips in the armor: there were two more apart from the one I had spotted. Finishing, they washed and cleaned the ship to a shine, leaving it looking brand new.
While the drones worked, I watched them absentmindedly, devoting most of my attention to studying the properties of the looted spare parts. I had no need for the vehicle armor parts or instruments so I sold them, but the engine was more interesting. Its properties were superior to those of my ship engine, but, alas, it was single and unusable.
Engine type: Inversion-gas
Model: DI-13T
Resource worked: 4698/20000
Condition: unknown
With regret, I returned the 3D model to the virtual shelf expanding from the warehouse management interface.
Wait... I remember seeing the word “repairs” while scrolling through the skill menu.
Opening the giant skill tree, I actually found that the third level of Fighter Pilot unlocked the Repairs skill. The description was scant, however; all I got was that I’d get a new Repairs folder in my warehouse management menu.
Looks like I’ll have to level this up, too. I sighed heavily. But now I’d rather develop the camouflage branch further. That enemy ship found me way too fast.
Being a man of my word, I instantly allocated all five available skill points to Camouflage and the skill slot to Pilot, hence unlocking level 4 of this major skill. This automatically increased the values of all of the sub-skills b
eneath it, though just slightly.
I hope that that will prevent me from being detected right away. I shrugged. Otherwise I’ll be in trouble if there are more than two enemies near me.
“Yet another thing I’m curious about,” I said aloud, my voice echoing through the hangar. “Are there quests similar to that one?”
I definitely had to check that, so I headed off right to one of the quest giver zones. The queues were standard size. Despite even more people joining the game over the past 24 hours, there was no crowding as the wall with quest selection panels kept expanding to accommodate more players.
So what do you have? I looked at the active list, but the system showed me nothing special. The pilot missions were still unavailable because of my low reputation with the Wargs.
“Well, I’ll take the regular ones then,” I shrugged, accepting one of the infantry quests.
Chapter 17
“You bought an apartment?” I all but yelled at her. “You know money is tight! Do you have no place to live in? Why spend that much now? I asked you to wait some two months!”
“My friend found an apartment with a 20% discount. Where else can you get a luxury apartment at just 400,000?” She crossed her arms and straightened up, her eyes burning me through.
“Just? 400,000 is just for you?” I could barely contain myself. The news outraged me, making me lose my temper.
I didn’t see that one coming. We had discussed a purchase like that. I hoped that Masha had abandoned her plans of buying real estate after that failed tour.
But here it was.
“Your apartment is rather expensive, actually,” she said. “I’ve never brought it up to you. Why can’t I get a place of my own?”
“But I’ve only repaid it recently! It took me seven years of busting my hump,” I said angrily. “And you want to spend all your prize money and savings at once?! You’ll need even more money to furnish it. We barely have enough money to buy food!”
“Let me remind you, dear,” she said venomously, “I’m currently the only breadwinner in this relationship.”
“So that’s the tune you’re now singing? When I was the breadwinner for seven years, supporting you, you took it for granted. And now, when I’m putting all of my earnings into upgrading my ship, you’re hurling accusations at me.”
“A man should be able to financially support his woman,” she declared. “What need of him otherwise?”
“Does love mean nothing to you?” I was totally outraged. Before, we used to laugh at her female friends who believed in stuff like that. I couldn’t have imagined that my Masha would start acting just like them someday.
“Better go make money for your girl than waste your breath here.” She turned around and left into her bedroom, slamming the door.
I shouted a curse to her back. She cursed me in return, disclosing the details of my genealogy that appeared to start with a different creature than an ape.
How stupid she is to listen to them. Still boiling, I sat down onto the sofa, turning on the news, hoping that that would distract me. That must be her mom’s influence. Or, even worse, Natasha’s. That divorced woman is always giving unsolicited advice.
Masha’s BFF had been divorced twice by the age of twenty-five and sincerely believed that this experience made her a relationship expert capable of counseling everyone around. She wasn’t at all embarrassed about the cause of her first divorce—cheating on her husband, which he had eventually come to discover. She then gave her second husband such a hard time that he simply ran away, sending his lawyer to discuss the divorce and refusing to meet her in person outside court.
This woman was now steering all of her friends onto the same path, telling them what to do to keep their men. Masha had been looking up to her since day one, but I was sober and critical enough to point both of Natasha’s marriage faults out when she went overboard. That pissed Natasha off. Since then, she kept making worse comments about me.
Masha’s mom had never been fond of me either, which meant that my girl’s entire social circle was against me. I had never considered that to be a problem before, but now I started to realize the extent of their influence. It was great enough to force her into spontaneous moves like this purchase.
Why now? What’s the point? She could at least buy a fully furnished one and rent, securing a steady income. The one she bought is empty! She’ll have to put in at least five million rubles to make it fit for living. Too much. That’s really too much.
Sitting by the video wall for a while, I calmed down a bit and even felt guilty about having shouted at her. I shouldn’t have worked myself up into such fury. I wished I could undo it.
It’s so quiet in her bedroom. I listened to the weird, unnatural silence behind the door. Is she gaming?
“Home. Can you connect to her capsule?”
“No such function in your new devices, Viktor,” it reminded me of what I had already known but totally forgot about due to the heated argument.
“Right… Otherwise the screenshots and gameplay videos of Galaxy would’ve already been all over the web,” I remembered.
Spending a bit more time in silence, I felt bored and switched the video wall on.
“…continuing the newscast, I would love to say a few words about Galaxy, the game with soaring popularity,” the anchor said. Hearing the familiar name, I turned the volume up.
Since its release, two other games with a similar space theme have closed. Their popularity had plummeted, making it meaningless for their publishers to keep supporting the servers. Looks like the army of Galaxy fans will soon increase by another million players as these other games are completely off.
The Russian government issued another statement yesterday, asking the publisher to put a voluntary cap on the number of hours one person can spend in the game. As we may recall, in China and India, the game has become so popular that the local entrepreneurs started buying out whole buildings to turn them into game clubs, with rows of game capsules as their sole facility. These capsules are then rented by the poor who can’t afford to purchase a capsule. They pay the rent to the club from the money they make in the game. These people spend a lot of time playing, some even die of exhaustion. Unfortunately, low average income in developing countries coupled with high profit margins in this business, have also attracted criminal organizations that are starting their own game clubs. The sanitation there is terrible, but still, they allow people to make a living, although s bulk of their earnings goes to the criminals.
Our Russian businesses are still considering investments in game clubs, but it is already clear that the expanding player base will make the operation of game hostels and clubs more profitable. Not all players can afford paying huge internet and electricity bills. For the poor, the game clubs will provide an opportunity to make a living by honest means, so the governmental initiative of capping the number of gaming hours is being opposed by the industry. The online petition against the proposed restrictions has been signed by…”
“This world’s gone mad.” I shook my head. I’ve been playing too much over the course of the past few days to have had any time for news and real life. With no more urgent tasks popping up, I worked my way to 100 reputation. A dozen of quests remained before I could reach it. I planned to take and complete all of them within a week.
***
With oppressive silence at home, leaving for the game seemed like a great idea. Once done with the news, I dove into the capsule and soon reached the familiar square. It was a bit strange to see lots of people there, like everyone had that day off. All were talking, asking each other if they had an apartment. Some approached me with the same question. Confused about what the whole fuss was about, I answered that I hadn’t, just in case. Hearing that, they immediately left me alone.
I’ll go take a look at the quests. Maybe I find a couple of decent one, I decided, calling a taxi and forgetting the other players’ weird behavior; I could get an explanation later at the game’s forums.
Because of Galaxy’s peculiar nature, its official forum had very little information. Any gameplay advice or hacks were seldom uploaded there. Most of the questions asked were about updates and game mechanics. The developers didn’t check the forum often; the bulk of communication was user-to-user.
Joining a short queue at the quest giver zone, I was surprised to see that the wall and the teleports looked somewhat different than they had during my last visit, although no major updates had been issued in the meantime. When I reached the panel and tried to take a quest, the system flashed a message I had never seen before.
Do you want to get a remote access terminal for your home?
Price: 10,000 credits
Yes/No
“What?” My eyes widened. At last! No more taxi rides and wasting money. I’ll be able to scroll the quests from the comfort of my bed apartment! This explained the commotion at the starting square and everyone’s sudden interest in apartments.
Yes. I paid without hesitation. Although I was saving for a new ship camouflage system, it could wait. This upgrade was worth the money. You can’t spend hours in the general queue, waiting for a good quest to pop up with another list update. But with a terminal at home, you don’t have to grab what comes first. You can wait all you want.
Installation completed. Thank you for your purchase.
I called a taxi to fly to my apartment and check the new feature. The square was just as crowded. When I entered the building, three players waiting in the hall darted to me at once.
“Have an apartment here, man?”
“Please rent a room to us!”
They spoke all at once, pushing each other away.
I snorted and entered the elevator that I had to open with my card. The apartment blocks must have been upgraded, too, to prevent unauthorized visits. The tenants tried to follow, but their faces turned sour once they tried to step into the elevator. I guessed that they got fined.
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