by Tao Wong
“John. I prefer John,” I reply. Brerdain’s ploy is rather obvious, the use of her almost laughable. I do a quick search through the System, tapping into local news sources and blazing through the data with the neural link and confirm my guess. “And you, Administrator? What would you prefer to be called?”
“Catrin.” She smiles, inclining her head slightly. I absently note that her chair has reconfigured slightly, lowering her a little and allowing me to meet her gaze more easily. It also, I idly note, gives me a better view. I find myself smiling, drawing in a slight breath, catching hints of nutmeg and other, unidentifiable Galactic scents in her perfume. “Are you enjoying the meal?”
“I am.” I flick my gaze down to her hand that rests on my arm, but I don’t comment. Instead, I turn to Brerdain, offering him a smile. “So, General. Or is it Chief of Staff?” I cock an eyebrow.
“Well, if we are being informal, it would be Brerdain.” He gives me a congenial smile, nodding thanks to the waiter who deposits their servings in front of them. “Thank you for letting us join you. Many of us are quite curious about the first Paladin to return in many years.”
“I’m sure. But a bit obvious, no?” I nod to the young lady and the hand. She retracts it gently, picking up her utensil and not looking at all flustered. “She’s not your usual companion.”
Brerdain laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I enjoy the company of young women.”
I grunt. That’s true enough. More than enough recordings and news articles to prove that. He and his wife have an open relationship, especially since his wife continues to serve on-board ship as a Marine Sargent. Sexual relationships are rather more open in their society, acknowledging the need for flexibility when partners might be literal light years apart for years, if not decades. Add in the extended lifespan—theoretically—of soldiers with high Constitutions, and their society has grown to accommodate a wide variety of relationship norms. Because of that, Brerdain’s known for indulging his preference for pretty young female things.
Which, I guess, is why he brought her and not a man. Harder to pass off a new male companion to throw at me as a subtle bribe when you aren’t known for them. But his most recent indulgence only started a week ago, and on average, he takes about a month to bore of his new friends. This is definitely a change in routine, even if the thin thread between them wasn’t clear enough.
“Catrin is a friend of a friend. She’s been wanting to indulge in the food here and I could help,” Brerdain says. “I like doing favors for my friends.”
Bolo lets out a loud snort while Harry picks at his food, head down.
“Just so you know, all recording has now been blocked. Everything I’ve got running is being blacked out. Overridden under a ‘Need to Know,’ National Interest order,” Harry sends over party chat.
“A bit heavy-handed, no?” I return while sliding the latest delicacy into my mouth. Some green-and-yellow squirming thing that tastes sweet at first before going bitter. Just not too bitter.
“Not really. His Skill is always active. Makes it harder to sort out what’s important, when everything is blocked.”
Mikito flicks a gaze between the young lady and Brerdain then waves down a waiter and doubles her order of the dish before us. After that, she returns to ignoring the entire interplay. I wish I could do the same.
“I’m sure,” I say. “So what do you want to know?”
Brerdain stares at me for a second, that congenial smile widening. “It seems you really are as blunt as the recordings.”
I shrug while I note how Catrin seems to pull back, almost fading into the woodwork. I note the swirl of Mana around her, the way she triggers a Skill to help make her innocuous.
“But in truth,” Brerdain say, “I have no great agenda here. I wish to learn about you. Your personality. Your history. Your plans.”
“The first two are easily purchasable in the Shop,” I say, pointing toward where the palace should be. “I’m really not that hard to understand. As for the last, I have a bunch of Paladin initiates to train. I’ll get them up to speed, then let them loose.”
“Let them loose…” Brerdain says, drawing out the last word. “And what would that mean?”
“You’d have to ask them,” I say, opening my hands and the utensils I carry in them, letting them balance on the edges of my hand. I’d morphed the weird spork and knife combo into a simple human knife and fork combination, having decided that I wasn’t interested in working with alien cutlery. Cultural assimilation is all well and good until you drop your two thousand Credit steak on your lap in a three-star restaurant with hovering paparazzi drones everywhere. “I’m just their trainer. Not their boss.”
“No, you Paladins don’t have that kind of hierarchy, do you?” Brerdain says, sounding almost satisfied.
I make note of his satisfaction, of the way he says it. And I remember that the Guards, for all their indication of being outside the hierarchy, are all still soldiers.
Silence falls over the table as the next course arrives. Another small portion of food shaped like spheres, glowing and individually colored like planets. Each fried, squished, or flash-frozen ball tastes different, even though I can tell that the material itself is the same.
Weird.
My comment elicits a more congenial conversation about the material used and the cooking methods for Mana-sourced monster meat, and that leads us to a friendly conversation about food across the Galaxy and the Empire that lasts nearly an hour. Catrin rejoins the conversation, but surprisingly does not stop her subtle flirting with me. She’s toned down the expulsion of scent pheromones and other direct Charm attacks, but the obvious interest is not gone.
When the last dish—a dessert that towers nearly as tall as I am seated and made, of all things, human chocolate and ice cream—arrives, Brerdain turns the conversation back to business.
“This training you intend to offer the Paladin initiates. What are your intentions?” Brerdain asks. “I know that there have been requests for trainers…”
“Yes. Quite a few,” I say. “Through the right channels, or so I’m led to believe. But of course, live fire exercises will be needed.”
“No better training.” Brerdain smiles. “If you want—”
“I’d be open to hearing about any problem areas that you need fixing,” I offer easily. “Preferably something that a single individual or a small group can manage. Multiple problem areas in the same locale would be preferable.”
“Threat level?” Brerdain says.
“High. I’d almost say deadly.” I grin.
Catrin freezes for a second in the process of spooning her chocolate, before she continues. Harry gives me the side-eye but doesn’t comment. Bolo, as usual, is grinning wide at the thought of more violence. That man has a problem.
“Complexity?” Brerdain asks.
“For this? None at all.” I shake my head. “No need to make it hard for them. Yet.”
Brerdain leans back and laughs, eyes twinkling. The lines along his eyes crinkle, his ears catching the glint of light. “I think I like you, Paladin.” He flicks a glance at Catrin, who offers him a smile, and he gestures at the meal before him. “Though I must admit, I’m not a fan of this… chocolate of your Earth. Your ale, on the other hand, is a respectable addition to Galactic cuisine.”
I pause and consider how much of an incident it’d be if I kill him. I am a Paladin…
“No, boy-o. Down!” Ali sends the thought to me, almost making me laugh.
“Well, we’re all allowed our own tastes,” I say with a smile. If there’s a little more teeth than there needs to be, that’s okay.
Having said his portion, Brerdain makes his excuses and takes the young lady along with him. She, at least, has the grace to look disappointed at not being allowed to finish her dessert. I can’t be too sad about her departure. After all, I’m willing to sacrifice myself for the sake of Galactic hunger and waste.
&n
bsp; As the pair stroll off, arm in arm, Bolo sighs. “That two?”
“Yup. One more to go.”
Bolo shakes his head and turns back to the consumption of dessert. Somehow, he’s sneaked the General’s portion over to his side of the table. My eyes narrow before I dig into mine. As for the rest of the politicking, that can wait. More important things are at hand.
“Touch her dish, and I’ll stab you.”
***
I’m not surprised when, later that night, I receive a visitor. She arrives about half an hour after we finally make our way home. The others are taking the break to meditate, train, or just relax in their portion of the building. Leaving me to stare at the notification window of our visitor standing outside the gates.
“John?” Catrin stares at the small hovering drone, her eyes wide and alluring. The shift she wears is artfully draped off-shoulder, accentuating her charms as she looks up.
“Catrin. I’m surprised to see you here,” I say. And that’s the truth. I was expecting a much higher Level visitor.
“Well, your rather blunt refusal didn’t make Brerdain happy. But he’s a fair employer,” she says with a smile. “Better than most in fact.”
I grunt. “Doesn’t really answer why you’re here.”
“Well, I’m no longer employed…” She bends her neck, letting hair fall over her eyes and hiding the cat-like-slit pupils for a second. “But I did find you intriguing. I’ve never met a Paladin before. Are your attribute gains as high as they are rumored to be?”
The way she arches that eyebrow makes me cough. She’s rather blunt about her intentions here. A quick query sent to Ali at least assures me this isn’t unusual. Between being a militaristic society used to clear commands and their more open policy about sex, Erethrans don’t waste time on subtle flirting when they really want something.
“So, boy-o? You going for it?”
On the other hand, just because she says she’s done with the employment doesn’t mean that’s true. Even Society’s Web offers no help here. The thread tying her to Brerdain still exists, but it doesn’t say why it exists.
Her presence, no matter what she says, comes with strings, of that I’m sure. Though strings based off female companionship seem rather a weak one to pull upon in a society that doesn’t frown on such dalliances. Then again, maybe there’s more to this that I’m not seeing. That I’m not—.
“If this is too complicated, I can leave. But it’d be a pity,” Catrin says, shifting on her feet and making her body wiggle in a rather distracting way. I look for the notification but don’t see it. So this is all skill, not Skill. “I understand it’s been a while since your last visit with Lord Roxley.”
Huh. The room is getting rather warm. Something definitely needs to be done about the heating…
In either case, Catrin’s reminder makes me think. But Roxley doesn’t care, and Lana was a long time ago. And, truth be told, it’s been a long time since… well. Since.
And what can I say? There’s a certain level of curiosity involved. Aliens are… alien. A hand pauses, and I find myself asking Ali for his thoughts. The query causes the Spirit to send back a rather risqué image.
I laugh and will the gates open, giving the Erethran Administrator access through the security systems. Sometimes, caution is all well and good. But as I told the initiates, sometimes, you just have to risk being shot at.
I watch Catrin sweep in. And if there’s a self-satisfied smile on her face, I’m not sure I can blame her.
Chapter 12
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Harry asks as we float high above the ground on the anti-gravity platform.
Around us, low-hanging gray clouds filled with soot and other, worse pollutants float, obscuring the ground from normal vision. Thankfully, multiple screens float alongside us, showing the feeds from the military drones. High above, I know the sun shines brightly, the large red dwarf of this planet’s star offering scant heat in comparison to its size.
Alongside myself and Harry are the rest of the team—all but three of the initiates. Everyone has their own portion of the float to themselves, watching what plays out below and keeping an eye out for threats. And there are threats. Some of them are dangerous enough that the automated drones I’ve dispersed around us won’t be enough of a defense. Among them are swarms of razor-beaked, insect-like creatures and larger, floating gas bag monsters with too many tendrils.
On the torn and shattered land below, three Paladin initiates make their way through the desolate landscape of the planet Seepgra in a separated V formation. Around them float a wide array of drones, feeding back telemetry data. Rather than green earth, the soil is black with charred carbon and foul pollutants, only broken up by the occasional lurid, mutated plant.
A drone floats too close to one of those plants and its orange leaves shoot outward, grabbing and twisting metal. We can’t hear the drone’s demise, but my mind adds the scream of metallic pain as the floating eye comes apart, its defenses insufficient. A second later, the component pieces are swept toward the heart of the plant. Roots burst from the ground, grabbing at other pieces and dragging them deep below the earth before the plant stills.
“It’s good TV, isn’t it?” I say, waving at the screens. “Not often we get to see a border planet like this.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Harry says, eyes narrowing as he eyes the Zone Status information once more.
Warning! You Have Enterred a Restricted Zone!
Due to lack of Management by its owner, the planet Seepgra is facing significant Mana flow disruptions. Currently Zones are facing a ±87 Level differential in designations.
We’re technically supposed to be in a Level 100 zone, but it could easily be much more. Or less. Though from our experience, it’s much higher.
Kino releases another drone from his inventory to replace the gap in his net, while Freif takes a moment to fire upon the plant. His attack arches up high then slams straight down onto the plant, burrowing deep before exploding and showering the ground with plant matter and dirt. The last of their group, Ropo, just flicks his gaze over before returning his attention to his quadrant. I hear him murmuring orders as they close in on their target.
“Well, this way people will know why,” I say to Harry, gesturing down. “And Brerdain was kind enough to find us these problem spots. It’d be rude to turn down his generosity.”
Bolo snorts while I idly eye the way the initiates shift uncomfortably at what I say. Not to say Brerdain’s disliked, but most think I’ve been compromised by my current, two-week-plus dalliance with Catrin. Even if she’s indicated she’s not in his employ, few believe her. Of course, she’s not been my only visitor in the last few weeks, though most weren’t as personal.
Even Julierudi’s managed to make an appearance, having made arrangements to transport us here. That meeting was less than spectacular, with conversation stilted and formal over the Captain’s meals. I get the feeling her position isn’t as secure as Ali’s initial analysis showed, with competing factions arguing over the reintroduction of the Paladins.
“But a Restricted Planet?” Harry says, shaking his head. “There’s not much point for us to do… whatever it is you’re having them do.”
“Destroy dungeons,” I say, clarifying the trio’s orders below. “They’re there to destroy three dungeons at least—more, if possible—in the next three hours.”
Harry’s lips thin. I know what he’s thinking, and the number of dungeons as well as timeframe does seem a little arbitrary. Especially when Levels, and thus the threat rating they’re facing, can alter so easily. But that too is part of the test.
“What’s the point? Anyone with any sense has left the planet. Outside of a few highly fortified Guild and military bases, no one lives here. Not really,” Harry persists.
I hum in thought then raise my voice, calling, “Magine. Explain to the reporter why we’re here.”
Harry, not one to lose an interview opportunit
y, spins around to face the pretty elf. Magine keeps his face neutral, though I can tell from the flicker in the strings that tie him to me that he’s annoyed. All this time, training and goading the group has allowed me to read them—and their threads—much, much better.
“Restricted planets are not Forbidden Planets. Travel to and from Restricted Planets is not forbidden but is tightly regulated. This is due to the need to lower casualty numbers and, in some cases, to help the rehabilitation of those planets. In some cases, such as the planet Seepgra, it’s introduction as a Restricted Planet is due to sapient disruption of Mana.”
“English. Try English,” I call to Magine. When he frowns at me, I grin. “Dumb it down. Harry’s audience is a bunch of neo-barbs.”
Magine’s hand by his side twitches, and for a second, I can see him regulating his temper. Then he turns his attention back to Harry.
“Seepgra was the epicenter of four different battles between ourselves and the Mo’thma Kingdom. Multiple spells and Skills, as well as certain near-forbidden technology, was put into play. In the last war, two different Heroic Classes clashed. All of this induced significant Mana flow effects, damaging the System’s hold on the planet as well as the System orbs that regulate Mana flow.” When I narrow my eyes at Magine, he sighs and dumbs it down even further. “The Mana here is messed up. But it can be fixed, because we messed it up. It’s not an overflow issue like other Restricted Planets near the Forbidden Zone.”
“Good man,” I say, clapping my hands together. “I knew you could do it.” I turn to Harry, who focuses on me. “It’s possible to pull back, even keep, Restricted Planets as residential planets, at least for a time. It requires a significant expansion of personnel, as you have to kill monsters, clear dungeons, reset them to the right locations, plant and build out settlements, and the like. But it is doable, as history has shown. We’re just tackling an easier example below.”
Below us, the trio pause for a fraction of a second as they cross the invisible boundary of the dungeon they’re here to clear. This is an open area dungeon, meaning that Mana density is vastly increased within the dungeon itself, making dungeon monsters spawn more frequently. In fact, looking at it from the air, you can see the boundary—the way the earth changes, the increase in Mana-suffused vegetation. We can even see the sudden change in motion as monsters that lay dormant wake and approach the group.