by Tao Wong
We’re in no rush.
After five minutes of increasingly angry conversations between the initiates, Gheisnan looks up. Watching them argue is interesting, since it’s all very professional but heated. Well, except for Ropo, but constant, inventive cursing is his way of speaking.
When the Pooskeen first starts talking, no one listens. He has to let out a piercing, deep-in-the-back-of-the-throat shriek to shut them all up. It makes ears hurt, though the Erethrans seem more affected than the others.
“Checked the paths of the pack. Killing by Magine is bad. He dies. Killing by Freif works. Till he is killed later. Other paths are slow, uncertain of results. I smell blood, a lot of blood on all paths,” Gheisnan says, ears turning down. “There are no paths where success is guaranteed and quick.”
“No, there aren’t,” I say. “You’re going up against an entire position. A powerful noble house. And they’ll be bringing in more help from outside.”
“Then let’s negotiate,” Ropo says. Magine and Freif nod reluctantly. “I might not like the moon-cratered, pustulant corpses, but they’ve likely got a good reason. Over and above their slime-infested Credit accounts. Reducing manpower on civilized planets for a Restricted Planet is a poor trade-off anyway.”
“Not your decision,” Kino rumbles, crossing his arms. “They have chosen. We have the right to choose.”
“Goblin shit. The immigrants just don’t know better. Better for us to send them where they won’t die in a few months,” Magine says. “I don’t think we should let him defy us, but Lord Ucald has a point in stopping them. Restricted zones aren’t for the under-Leveled. They’ll be happy when they understand what we’re doing for them.”
“Not your decision,” Kino rumbles again, even more angrily.
“Enough. You guys can argue about politics. Right now, we have our marching orders.” Anayton draws a deep breath. “What if we did it all?”
“All?” Magine asks
“Everything that’s been suggested,” Anayton says.
Gheisnan is already going cross-eyed, running his Skills.
I interrupt, figuring I should clarify before things get out of hand. “No killing the noble immediately.”
“But it’s still on the table?” says Freif.
“Nothing is ever off the table.” I give the initiates a wolfish grin. No need to get them too excited about the idea of killing though, not unless we really have to.
“Understood,” Gheisnan says before he falls silent. I watch as he runs the math, using his skills to look at the future.
I know of transcendent strategists who can take plans and do the same, analysts who look for the most likely scenarios. I’m curious to see what he comes up with, what his Skills tell him. The problem with Skills like his is that they all look at an uncertain future, one that is constantly altered as others activate their own Skills. As mortals, giving into whims, alter their choices. And all of it under the shadow of beings who might as well be gods.
“Better. Less blood. There were fewer trails leading off, but still. Danger, enemies all around,” Gheisnan finally speaks up. “Too many ending in his death. Lord Ucald.”
“That sounds about right,” I say. “So you’ve got your marching orders. And a failing grade. Most you guys really need to start thinking outside of a single-point solution. I know you’re used to taking orders, having a clear objective. But as Paladins, you’re going to be struggling with multiple objectives, unclear final results, and solutions that might not be perfect. Iterative fixes rather than a single solution will be your future. Remember that. Otherwise you’re just going to be back at the start, making the same damn mistakes all the time.”
It reminds me a lot of building websites for companies, throwing something, anything, up to fix the client’s needs. As good as you can, but only eighty percent rather than a hundred of what they asked for. Then you move on.
Because the budget is out, your time limit is over. And in the end, they’ll come back, asking for another change, another alteration. Because their business has changed, the environment has changed, or they just thought of something new, and that last twenty percent doesn’t matter anymore. Iterative changes on an ongoing basis. It certainly kept the company in business, and me, bored.
“Were you always going to have us do this?” Freif says.
“Yup. Unless you guys came up with something brilliant,” I admit quite readily. “Your marching orders should be downloaded into your ship’s computers. We’re splitting you guys up, taking his assets, freeing up some of those already taken, and dealing with this interdiction.” I stare at the more confident group, watching as they look happier with a clearer set of marching orders. “Just because violence is the easiest option here doesn’t mean you have to keep reaching for it. A lot of the time, you should be able to talk your way to a better solution.
“I recommend you do so.” I fall silent for a time, waiting to see what they have to say. If they have anything else to say.
They do. Mostly to deal with the details of the orders. One thing that gets clarified is that they’ll be swapping out regularly. Won’t be much of a test if they all don’t get a chance to experience the different aspects.
Once the initiates ships jump out, I turn around to see my team standing by, looking highly amused. “What?”
“Just funny, seeing you be responsible. Recommending they talk rather than beat people up,” Harry explains.
“I can hope they can be better than me, no?” I offer them a half-smile, thinking of the poor initiates. My trainees. Is this what it’s like to have kids? If so, they’re doomed. For we paint our children with the colors of our failures, then somehow expect them to be better than us.
“And us?” Bolo says.
“Doing what they can’t.”
That’s the problem with sending a bunch of Advanced Classers to do this. The targets they’ve been given, they’re just about manageable for their Level and team. But we’re facing an entire solar system and a bit of trouble. There are targets the initiates can’t touch, not alone.
Good thing I’ve got a team of my own.
***
We jump in just above the battleship. The thing is huge, a floating rectangular structure. Impulse occurs from numerous engines placed throughout the structure, allowing it to shift direction in ways that no atmospheric craft is ever engineered to do. Of course, considering its size, re-entry into a planet would cause problems. It’s a couple of kilometers across one edge, more reminiscent of a Borg cube than anything I’d expect to see. Which makes “above” a rather loose concept.
We blip in, and immediately, Dornalor maneuvers for the closest entrance dock. Once we’re close enough that momentum will slingshot us in, he uses the equivalent of a railgun system to launch us.
“Target locks everywhere,” Harry calls out moments later.
Beams of criss-crossing energy target the Heartbreak—or where the ship should be. But Skills, technology, and a little bit of subterfuge keep us safe for a few seconds as we fool the sensors, allowing the Nothing’s Heartbreak to begin its jump protocols while white death enlivens the area a short hundred meters away.
If not for the auto-generated overlays in my helmet, there’d be no way to spot the lasers criss-crossing space. Not until they struck. The railguns and mass drivers, on the other hand, are much clearer to see—for variations of clear for things moving at thousands of kilometers a second. Point-defense is mostly lasers though, since by the time most missiles activate, the attacks or the enemies would be gone.
I turn my attention to my own problems, even as chatter from Harry playing copilot fills the channels. Dornalor replies with grunts, focused on flying the ship and keeping it hidden. My problems in this case are the second layer of defenses—close-in mines. These things aren’t even that powerful, they’re just numerous, locked into place by a Mana field. They’re so dense, there’s no way for anything larger than a cat to float through without trigger them. By the time I
notice, consider action, and dismiss most options, I’m already touching the mines.
“That tickles!” Bolo laughs as he plows feet first through the explosions.
Mikito’s much more stoic when she goes through, but the mines are just an early warning signal. The retargeting of nearby point-defense is the more important thing.
I watch as lasers wash over me, lighting up my Force Shields, ticking down their durability. But I’ve got an idea, so I reach out. Toward the fast-spreading energy from the explosions, toward the closest mines. And I tap into my affinity, my gift from Ali. It’s not a Skill. It’s not even really part of the System. Much like Spells or Mana, it’s categorized and subsumed to some portion, but it’s not part of the System itself. It’s something older, more innate.
And it lets me adjust the level of energy, lower the resistances, and increase the sensitivity of materials around me. Mana Sense reaches out at the same time, almost unconsciously, and I find myself manipulating the Mana-reinforced nature of the metal, the System-generated strength of the drones. I find myself tapping into the edges of the System, seeing the weird System-glyphs as I do so, the way they affect things. I don’t try to adjust them, but the Mana around them.
Explosions begin, but my mind and sense are racing ahead, moving faster than light itself as I hop-scotch between mines. They go off, one after another, creating a daisy chain effect all across the side of the battleship at first, then crossing over to the other sides. My head pounds, but the defense system is over-loading, point-defense lasers targeting non-existent enemies before the AI shuts it down and begins recalibrating its decision tree.
My feet slam into the bulkhead, creating a minor crater. I trigger the Abyssal Chains, hooking myself down as magnetic boots fail to hold. I use the Chains to drag myself to the docking bay doors which Bolo and Mikito, more focused on their landing, are already tearing apart.
I do all this subconsciously, while my concentration focuses on spreading the explosions. Focuses on the new mines being ejected outward, tracing them back, and setting them off. Shutting down point-defense, creating problems as internal batteries light up.
Ali floats alongside me, his face strained. What I’m doing is being aided by the Spirit, his greater expertise and Affinity multiplying my results. The battleship rumbles and bucks slightly, contained explosions as ammunition stores deep within the ship go off under our manipulation. Contained, but still dangerous.
“We’re in!” Mikito shouts across party chat, bringing my attention back fully.
I spot Bolo ducking in even as fire targets him. Mikito follows seconds later.
By the time I enter, the breach they created is half-closed by flowing liquid metal. I tear through with my powered armor, shedding melted metal on my Soul Shield as I fall in, artificial gravity twisting me in the air. A second later, I refresh my Soul Shield as I search for my enemies.
There’s nothing left to do. The pair have torn apart the droids and sailors within. I feel a flash of guilt as I notice the floating corpses. A Yerrick floats, missing his lower half, intestines unraveling in space, frost and ice crystals floating away from him. The majority of the corpses are Erethran though, all of them dressed in orange-and-pale-indigo house uniforms.
They’re dead because I couldn’t think of a better way to do this. They were just doing their jobs…
Then I dismiss it. The guilt, the pain, it can all be dealt with later. For now, we have a job to do. Get to the command center and deal with the captain. No time for guilt, not with everything moving so fast. So I focus.
For I’m getting left behind.
I rush through wrecked corridors, defensive doors and installations rent apart. Occasional floors are smashed open as the pair take a faster and more direct way to our goal. They make good time, often not even bothering to deal fully with sailors and marines as they continue the assault.
“Down three corridors. He’s moving… teleport circle… on… We’re… bzzttzz… jam him…” Harry reports, his party chat flicking on and off as communication flickers in and out.
“Payout better be good…” Dornalor mutters.
I sense it when they jump in again, staying close to where I’ve destroyed some of the point-defense. A momentary pause, then the Heartbreak deploys jamming drones to stop our target from fleeing.
I catch up to my team when they get stymied. They’re in an all-out brawl as they face off against a team of Advanced Classers and a Master Class bodyguard. Mikito’s on the Master Classer, polearm cutting and blocking beams as the man opens fire. Four arms and another half dozen metallic tentacles are in play, each of them firing at Mikito as she struggles forward, deflecting beam after beam. What he doesn’t see is the ghostly horse she conjures behind him, charging forward.
Bolo’s busy fighting the team. Unlike other groups, they aren’t trying to face him directly. Instead, they hit him with slowing spells, momentum-robbing Skills, and gluing grenades. Trying to stop him from moving. They take away his friction, quadruple his weight, debuff his Strength. When that fails, their tank blocks him off with conjured shields. The Dragon Lord’s struggling to get to them as they dodge out of the way and kite him forward.
“Go! We have them,” Mikito snaps when I slow down.
In answer, I cut downward with my Blade Strike, tear a hole into the floor, and drop, ignoring the blasts and spells that follow and ping off my resistances. They’re powerful spells, but Hod’s and my resistances to Skills and spells are incredibly high. As is Bolo’s—but they’ve had a lot more time to debuff him.
“Goblin’s nest!”
“The hag’s hanging tits, he’s getting away!”
I laugh softly to myself, barrel past the next group that gets in the way, and keep going. An elbow to the face of the only marine dumb enough to not move aside brings him down. Ali shoots ahead of me, turning the corner, and I watch beams and a couple of missiles impact the corner. Moments later, he lights up the waiting defensive point with lightning.
In the corner of my vision, I spot the moving purple dot reach its destination. I pour on the speed, using Haste, the Aura of Chivalry, and even Thousand Steps to clear the way and speed me along, Blink Stepping every time there’s an open space and the spatial lock falls below my ability to breach it. Trading pain and health for speed.
The last corridor shows up soon enough, and I trigger Vanguard of the Apocalypse. Ali’s ahead of me, already engaged in battle. He’s bleeding light as the Mage and dimensional weaponry tear into his energy form, ripping him apart. No way to Blink Step closer, no way to Portal—they’ve tripled the Spatial Lock here. So I swing my sword, sending Blade Strikes down the way, and toss my knives, watching as they cut through armor and defense and pin the defenders to the bulkheads.
Unlike many of those we faced before, they’re all armed and armored in full power armor. It glitters yellow and pale-blue, sleek and beautiful and meant for shipboard action. Faces covered in non-reflective helmets, personal force shields buzzing. All of them are dressed and ready to do war, anti-Master Class beam cannons and defensive shields emplaced before them.
It’s not enough, even as the beams burn through the Hod’s defensive shield. Not enough to slow me down. Not enough to stop me from closing in or destroying their defenses.
Vanguard of the Apocalypse is built for charges like this, for that last-minute clash just before you hit an enemy line. It boosts my speed, my recover, adds itself to all the momentum generated from my other spells and Skills. So when I hit the flickering vestiges of the force shields, I go through them like an arrow through a soap bubble.
The metal barriers formed from the floor are like wet tissue paper, and the people behind are impaled on the blades of my Thousand Blades Skill. Thrown aside, disoriented.
As for the actual doors? Those are a little more difficult to break through. I find myself bouncing off them, the accumulated momentum wasted as the doors warp. I snarl, spin, and cut, watching as my conjured blades tear into them.<
br />
My enemies don’t stop, some of them grappling with the lightning tentacles Ali wields, others jumping in with daggers and shivs, trying to cut through Hod’s armor. I trigger the next use of Abyssal Chains and lock them down, rather than fight, and kick at the door again. Penetration is my main Skill, my most powerful ability, and even a simple kick is enough to shatter the weakened doors.
I stride in, smoke curling up around my armor, warning klaxons going off all around me. An underhand toss of a Mana Dispersal grenade disrupts the building teleport, shutting it down for a brief moment.
“Paladin! You cannot do this,” the target screams, bald face sweaty, eyeliner running slightly, her admiral’s uniform wrinkled and torn, smoking slightly as the teleporter sparks, sending energy surging through her body and failing as the grenade eats away at the Mana.
Next to her, weapons drawn in heavy hands, the rest of her staff stand.
I flick my hand sideways, sending the Toothy Daggers into the teleporter and saving up on Mana. The teleporter blows up, the Mana dispersal grenade and the added damage enough to override whatever safeties it might have.
“Watch me.”
***
Clean up, after I capture the enemy Admiral, takes a little longer. Bolo and Mikito have to make their way to the power cores before the crew eventually decides they can’t afford to piss us off further. We have to fight off a couple of Advanced teams each and two more Master Classers. Still, we’re lucky. I don’t think anyone expected us to take this kind of action.
Once we’re secure, we kick off every single crew member but the Admiral and select staff. Mostly high-Level Advanced Classers and the couple of Masters Classers who survived. The rest of the crew are released into space.
In escape shuttles and capsules. We’re not monsters.
Dornalor is laughing his ass off as he slaves the giant battleship to his own and hyperjumps us in unison, seconds ahead of the retaliation. We jump three times, losing our tails as Dornalor does his magic. Then we’re back in Erethran Empire-controlled space, floating above the capital planet.