by Tao Wong
“We were lied to, tricked, and threatened. We lost our lands, our settlements, and eventually, our world. Now the Yerrick serve under others. My people are scattered through the Galaxy as they attempt to earn enough Credits to survive.”
“Boo hoo hoo. One set of aliens taking advantage of another,” one of the Sons of Odin interjects.
Capstan stares at the interrupter, the look he gives him priceless—it’s the kind of look you give a particularly hairy bug and you’re trying to decide if killing it or smacking it away is the better choice. Once the Son of Odin quiets down, Capstan speaks in detail. For the next hour, he talks. At first explaining the process and their history, later diverting to specific questions.
I keep quiet, listening with half my attention. I know most of this already, having spoken with him before. But the information is a revelation to most others.
So much of it is familiar though—to anyone who studies history anyway. Find a few groups that are at odds, pit them against each other while you pay pennies on the dollar for goods—land—that you want while selling your goods at a huge markup. Control the information, control access to the Shops, bring in secondary or tertiary groups to “rule.” Never, ever keep a promise that is bad for you, breaking contracts and rules where you can. After all, a Contract might hold you and the other party to it, but if you word it right, the Contract can affect an entire settlement on one end and a disposable corporation on the other.
And always, always, keep control of what’s important—the City Core and the people.
“Thanks, First Fist,” I say to Capstan after an hour, when the crowd is getting bored, other than a few notable individuals. “Now, the reason I wanted you to hear that is for you guys to start figuring out what the hell you’re doing. From what I understand, you’ve left the Sect in control of various City Cores because none of you can agree on who gets to control them. Or hell, which form of government you intend to take.”
“There shouldn’t be any real argument. We’re still part of the US of A. We should be having an election,” a rather tubby gentleman mutters, his arms crossed in front of him.
His friends are all nodding firmly, as are a few groups.
“We are in a national emergency. In such a circumstance, the United States Army should take control of the city till we are in contact with a legitimate authority,” the Officer says, shaking his head. “If an election is decided upon, we can help conduct such an event in a fair and impartial manner.”
“Oh, like we’re going to let you army boys take over,” growls an African American man. I’m a bit jealous really—he’s wearing the System-equivalent of a leather hoodie and it’s styling. “Like you guys are actually supposed to be acting on US soil.”
“This is a unique situation,” the Officer says, turning to the man. “And there are specific protocols that have been put in place—”
“Yeah, and you still won’t tell us about what’s happened with your nukes,” one of the baristas says, glaring.
“We’ve already said there is an SOP involved in such a situation. Suffice it to say that there are plans in place for a catastrophic event like this.”
“Oh really, you guys got protocols for the end of the world and the introduction of humanity to a gaming system?” scoffs the Blue Mage.
“Not exactly, but—”
“Ahem,” I cough, quite loudly. “Look, I get it. You all have questions, and you’ve got your own things to deal with. But the longer you argue, the more people—your people—die. You need to get yourselves a city, which means putting together a real organization that all your city cores are tied to.”
“And how did you do that?” the Latino spokesperson asks, eyeing me.
“I own it. All of it,” I say, seeing no point in lying. “We’re working on a better government system, but Vancouver and its surrounding cities are now tied together.”
“You’re a Canadian dictator?” the African American says, choking on a laugh.
“Free maple syrup for all!” the Son of Odin heckler speaks up. This time, he does get a few laughs. “Watch out for the giant beavers!”
That last one gets less of a laugh as they stare at the giant red fox and Lana’s puppies.
“For now,” I say with a shrug, ignoring the heckling. “Speed is important, if you guys haven’t understood Capstan’s point. Once the big boys start moving—and some already have—we’re screwed. As it is, Texas is wholly owned by the Inlin Corporation. Alaska and the Yukon by the Duchess. Europe’s a battleground between five different groups, two of which are backed by the Movana. We need to establish a foothold and take out the smaller groups if we want any say in our lives.”
“And you want our help,” the Officer says, eyes narrowed.
“Aye. My people are good. But there aren’t enough of us. If we’re going to be expanding, we’re going to need help,” I say.
“And there we have it. The real reason you came down,” BB says before spitting to the side. “I knew you people had an agenda. We ain’t going to die for you.”
“I’m not—” I protest.
“And who’s going to take control of those cities, dictator?” the Latino calls out, hands crossed in front of him.
“That’s up to discussion.”
A roar of disapproval explodes when I say that. More questions are shouted, BB smirking as he watches the entire meeting break down. Lana shoots me a look, but I shake my head, instinct telling me that using her ability now would be seen as a provocation.
Forty minutes later, we stand around, staring at the few groups that have stayed after the others dispersed. I did my best, as did Lana, but the meeting went out of our control, egged on by BB and a few other malcontents. I couldn’t exactly blame them—having a stranger come in and tell them they sucked was never going to work out well. But someone had to say it.
“That could have gone better,” I mutter.
“No shit, boy-o. Told you you should have let Lana talk,” Ali says.
I end up rolling my eyes slightly while Lana flashes me a sympathetic smile.
“From what you said, I understand you have certain plans concerning liberating more cities?” the Officer says as he walks toward our group.
With the meeting over, I’d popped open a Portal for Capstan to head back to Vancouver with a promise to port him the rest of the way home soon.
“Aye,” I say, glancing at the few interested groups.
The all-women group clad in Adventurer chic, a weirdo group who looks as if they took their dress code inspiration from superheroes, the Mages, Barista group, and a few more “normal” groups standby. About a third of everyone who came.
“Well?” the Blue Mage barks, the East Indian almost bouncing in impatience. I absently note that he’s not gotten a genetic cleanse—or if he did, he opted out of getting more height, being a not-so-impressive 5’6”.
“Calgary,” I answer. “I’ll need to visit Edmonton first, which is human-controlled, and see what they want, but after that, we’re looking at Calgary. That’s currently controlled by two different factions—the Kingdom of Pewsin and Uvrik Corp. The first is a side kingdom of, hmmm, halflings I guess is the closest term. Not hobbits. These guys are vicious bastards. Uvrik Corp is a ‘small’ Galactic corporation with a focus mostly on fortifying foodstuff.”
“Halflings and a food corporation,” one of the Mages mutters. “I swear there’s a joke in there somewhere.”
“If you look hard enough, there’s a joke all around you,” Lana says.
“Joke or not, between those two groups, they’ve got over twenty Advanced Class in play, with three of them in the high Levels. Even a single high Level Advanced Classer can do a lot of damage. We’d need at least three or four of our guys to contain one of them,” I say firmly.
“Our guys?”
“Well, if you all agree,” I say.
“You’re asking us to free a Canadian city,” one of the ladies says, eyeing the three of us.
“I’m asking you to free a city full of humans. Yes,” I say, meeting her eyes.
“She is correct that you are asking for much…” the Officer says leadingly.
I sigh quietly, knowing that there’s going to be politics. Always damn politics. “What do you want?”
“Your help. Your Skill.”
I cock my head to the side, waiting for more. As the Officer continues. “Your actions in taking Vancouver from the Thirteen Moon Sect helped Seattle greatly. Your Class, your Skill, and your people could do the same for our other cities.”
“Yeah, but what do we get out of it?” I say softly, angling for some advantage here. Truth be told, coming down here to get help was part of the goal, so I’m not exactly bargaining from a position of power. But at least, the need is mutual.
“That depends on how that Skill of yours works,” the Officer says, skin around his grey eyes crinkling as he smiles.
“Right…” I narrow my eyes as I finally get around to reading his Status. Octavian Wier, Level 7 Officer. “Octavian. Well, that’s something we can certainly discuss.”
“I prefer my middle name, but it’s Colonel Wier to you. Acting commander of the 7th Infantry Division out of Fort Lewis,” Wier says, seemingly nonplussed by my use of his name. I see a few looks shared around, but not much.
“Acting, sure. You’re all that’s left after the hydra rolled over your base,” one of the Mages says with a snort. “That damn monster made its way halfway up the city before we ended it.”
I glare at the man, shutting him up as the soldiers stiffen. Taunting people whose job is to protect others with the deaths of their friends doesn’t seem either charitable or smart.
Once I get my silence, I look back at the colonel. “Well, I don’t have much information on the state your country is in, so I’m going to need data at the very least. But if we do this, we’re really going to need your support on our end as well. All of you.”
I see more than a few pauses, a few looks around, and I sigh. Convincing these people, even the ones who stayed to help, seems as if it’s going to take a bit. Or, on seeing the avarice in some eyes, some bribing. Rather than convincing everyone to get involved here and now, we take names and information with promises of meeting up personally to discuss the levels of their support. Better to do the discussions in person.
Octavian’s is the first group we speak with. Rather than going back to his base, we end up at the discarded remnants of a local coffee store. It’s not the best option, but it has chairs and we’ve all got travel mugs of Barista-made coffee, so it seems mildly appropriate. We get there after I’ve sent most of the team home, rather than dragging everyone about. Outside, the pets and most of Wier’s soldiers stand guard, including an interesting pair of Rangers. I’m slightly amused that the older aide keeps staring at me with what I assume is disapproval, but at least he hasn’t voiced it. Either way, I send a note to Ali to dig into the soldiers’ Status information while we talk, curious what kind of goodies they might have picked up.
“So. Retaking the USA,” I say, starting us off.
“Yes. Currently, remnants of our chain of command are gathered around Fort Belvoir, where there is a Shop. We’re in contact with them,” Colonel Wier says, a fact that startles me. Long-range communication is one of the things that we all lost, and while it’s possible to replace it, it’s expensive. That he—and the Fort—chose to get it up is startling at first. Then, it’s kind of obvious. “There are three other alien groups in Washington: one Corporation and a pair of alien governments—one a Kingdom consisting of half-giants, and one an Empire of kobolds.”
“What kind of kobolds?” Ali asks with a frown.
“Kind?”
“You humans seem to mix up three different races. Are they draconic, dog-like, or like short, skinny humans?”
“Uhhh… dog-like.”
“Pooskeens. From the planet Pos.”
“Won’t that make them Poskeens?”
Ali stares at me, hands on his hips.
“Sorry. Right. Alien grammar,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“What I’m going to say, I hope you will keep to yourself for now,” The Colonel says softly, visibly bracing himself before he continues. “In Fort Belvoir, we have the current Secretary of Agriculture, the highest elected authority we are in contact with. Along with her, we have a number of congressmen and senators. We have confirmed the death of most of the others in the chain of command including the vice president. Others are believed to be compromised.
“As such, the Secretary has—legitimately—assumed power. However, a number of army and national guard groups don’t have contact with us or her or are refusing to take orders from us. Some refuse to act on US soil. Others have gone rogue. We’ve got rebel groups, independent operating groups, and a few cities all working by themselves throughout the country.”
“No one knows who to trust, so everyone’s doing their own thing?” Lana interjects, her brows drawn together.
“In essence, yes. There are police forces and national guard members working independently,” Wier says finally. “We need to put an end to this as quickly as possible, which is why I’m looking for your help. If you can open those Portals of yours, we can shift our men to bolster allied forces and begin negotiations with those on the fence.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I say with a sigh. I ponder for a moment keeping the details of my power back, but in this case, I realize I’m going to have to tell him something. “I can only Portal to places I’ve been to before. And keeping the Portals open are extremely Mana intensive.”
Wier nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “We can work with that. If we allocate specific teams, my men can still provide force multipliers and specialized help. We could even provide you guards and aides now.”
“No thanks,” I say with a shake of my head. “No offence, but I work better alone.”
Wier just shoots a look at my team but I refuse to back down from that statement. For one thing, it’s the truth, damn it. For another thing, anyone he sends with me is just going to act as a spy and nanny, and I neither want or need either.
“If we help you, you and your people will help us free the Canadian cities. All of them,” I say.
Wier cracks a slight smile, leaning forward. Now that I’m actually negotiating, he knows he has me. The rest of this is just a matter of numbers and plans, of how we’re going to do this rather than if. And really, I never was going to turn him down. For the next hour or so, we negotiate men and numbers, timelines, and other details. We leave a lot unsaid or to be confirmed, a lot to be determined later or open for amendments because we both understand how Murphy can be a bastard. But in the end, we have a rough agreement, one that starts with him helping us first before we shift to some American cities. When we’re done, we shake hands as you do. And that’s when we get a surprise.
Settlement Agreement Reached
Would you like to confirm the agreement (see attached)? There are significant penalties to reputation for breaching such an agreement. Additional penalties may apply (see agreement).
(Y/N)
I blink, staring at the new notification. Wier shows surprise too, obviously getting a similar screen.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Ali says, staring at the screen as well.
“You didn’t know about this?”
“Never had a Companion who was a settlement owner, so no.”
“How do I add penalties to this then?”
“You can’t. Looks like you need the Skills or an upgrade to your City.”
“So no penalties. Huh.”
“This is interesting. But I don’t need a System to keep my word,” Wier says.
Even if he does say that, I note he acknowledges and accepts the System agreement. I do too a moment later.
“Nice. Now for the next conversation,” I say, smiling. “Not to be rude, but…”
“I understand. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. We’
ll be in touch for further details.”
“I’ll need to visit your base at some point.”
“Of course,” Wier agrees readily. One of the things we had to cover in our discussion was the limits of my Portal Skill. “Just let us know.”
“I will.” I flash him a grin, making a note to get work on a communications array sorted.
Interestingly enough, what Wier did wasn’t purchase the array from the System but the plans. He shared that with us, so now all we had to do was get some high Level Mechanics and Engineers on it and we’d finally have a communications array stretching across the province.
“Who’s next?” I ask Lana and Ingrid after we leave, the young ladies on Lana’s overgrown, pony-sized puppies. Ingrid knows where we’ll have to go, and Lana was the one who set up the meetings.
“Mages.”
“Ah…” I can’t help but grin at that.
Look, the Microsoft campus was the kind of place where any programmer would have loved to have worked. Just short of the Google campus really. But that was a fairy tale dream for someone of my talents. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t bad, but ‘not bad’ doesn’t get you into the big leagues.
“Down, boy,” Lana says, shaking her head. “Try not to get a nerd boner while talking to them, will you?”
“Funny.” I consider the meeting. Obviously Gates won’t be there, or Balmer. If they were, we’d have seen them at the meeting, but… “I didn’t recognize most of those Mages at the meeting.”
Ingrid nods. “No surprise. They lost a lot of people when the System came along. These days, the team you saw, they’re the front. I hear their real leadership team is out there, but I’ve yet to see them. Way I understand it, they’re busy Leveling.”