A Jump into the Unknown (Reality Benders Book #5) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  “Then as fate would have it, one of the four incarnations of the Great First Female of the Miyelonians – the honorable Priestess Leng Amiru U-Mayaoo – got in touch with Krong Daveyesh-Pir and accused the furball leader of violating their commitments as allies. In her words, flagrant excesses were perpetrated on good friend of the Miyelonian race Leng Gnat in exclusive Geckho territory when he was arrested on trumped up charges and not allowed to enter the game. And the Krong... whew... uh, how to put this lightly... was taken aback and promised the influential Miyelonian Priestess to figure it all out. He sent a message to that effect to Kung Waid Shishish, whose sector of the galaxy we fall under.”

  Here Major Tarasov wasn’t alone in being struck with a cold sweat. I was also panicking. The leader of the Second Geckho Strike Fleet Kung Waid Shishish was famed throughout the galaxy for his explosive temper, harsh nature, unwillingness to compromise and for never taking half-measures. The commander knew me personally and, I suspect, after a kick in the pants from his overlord, didn’t take too long figuring things out, just transmitted his displeasure directly to his Viceroy on Earth, Kosta Dykhsh with plenty of vulgarity and abundant threats.

  “That’s exactly right, Kirill. But Kung Waid Shishish was already aware that you had been detained,” Igor Tarasov added. “As it turns out, Miyelonian news channels were reporting that a wicked military junta on Earth had arrested the human Leng Gnat – one of the most famous human beings in space and a close personal acquaintance of Miyelonian Fleet Commander Kung Keetsie-Myau. After that, Kung Keetsie personally got in touch with Kung Waid Shishish and expressed her dismay at the Geckhos’ inability to maintain order in the territories they control. So Kung Waid Shishish was already on edge when he got that kick in the pants from above...”

  Hmm... On the one hand, it was good that such influential forces were taking an interest in my fate. But on the other... My prior experience with the commander had given me a perfect understanding of the fact that Kung Waid Shishish had no real concept of goings on in the outskirts of the galaxy on a remote planet by the name of Earth. And so the blind rage of the suzerains could end up damaging every terrestrial faction indiscriminately.

  “And that is why Viceroy Kosta Dykhsh, who had so much vitriol poured onto him from above today, was so brusque. By all appearances, the Viceroy’s seat has begun to totter. Furthermore, this has jeopardized his wedding, a fact the Viceroy also shouted about. Overall, Kirill, the curators of the Dome project requested that I tell you they’d overstepped, and said you are free to go. They also suggested I apologize to you in the name of their ‘military junta,’ but I have to think you don’t give a rat’s ass about that. Just get back into the game quickly. Lots of people are waiting for you there. There’s a helicopter waiting to take you back.”

  ONCE IN THE HELICOPTER, much to my surprise, Igor Tarasov broke down laughing:

  “Kirill, I can’t believe you go the Dome curators to cave! But it doesn’t matter. It’ll be good for them to take a little smack on the nose. Around here, they might as well be gods. Faction supplies, financing, the inflow of new recruits, just about everything depends exclusively on their whims. But on a cosmic scale... they might as well not exist. The galactic news just called them: ‘a military junta.’ It will be a good lesson for them in the future: think seven times before any sudden movements in regard to you and your faction.”

  “And what about Lozovsky, any idea what’s going on there?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “Yes, but... I’m sorry, I’m not gonna tell you. All I can say is what people who live under the Dome already know. Ivan’s quarters were searched and they discovered narcotics. Phenylcyclohexylpiperidine, also known as PCP or ‘angel dust.’ Investigators are currently figuring out whether the former leader had been taking it for long, how he got the drugs into a controlled facility, and which other faction players might also be consuming illegal substances.”

  Igor Tarasov fell into a pensive silence, then abruptly changed topic and turned to another important event. “Five hours ago, the NPC Orcs attacked and torched the Human-25 Faction’s fort, slaughtering all defenders without exception. And ever since they’ve been killing every player who comes back at the respawn point. The curators are holding another council at Onega-3, this time thinking up ways of saving the people now caught in a death trap. After all, it is well known that a certain number of character deaths in a row can cause the person playing them to die for real. So the lives of one hundred and six people, most of whom are employees of scientific laboratories now hang by a thread.”

  “I’m reminded, Kirill, that you said something about a Geckho ferry,” the leader of the First Legion remarked, referring to a suggestion I made at the council. “Too bad they didn’t listen to you then. Three days underway via ferry is a completely acceptable timeframe. The scientists can just wait it out in our world no problem. And as long as your offer remains in force, I humbly request your assistance.”

  Having learned from my past bitter experience, I was in no rush to agree.

  “And what about the Dome curators?” I reminded him of their categorical refusal when I offered help before.

  The major lowered his head, looking downcast and made an honest admission:

  “Nothing has changed. The curators are still not willing to allow people from the other world into the H25 faction’s laboratories. Even if those selfsame laboratories are completely destroyed by Orcs, and nothing of value remains. They demand that I as head of the largest Russian faction send a landing group to evacuate the scientists and destroy all traces of their biological research. And the latter is even more important than the former.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, truly surprised because the priority of the Russian military was always saving people first.

  “Something very peculiar was being developed at those laboratories and it cannot be shown to outsiders under any circumstances. They may have been dissecting Geckho and developing toxins for their race, for example. If such information were to be leaked, that would mean the end of humanity as we know it. Or perhaps they were creating interspecies hybrids – like adding the segments of the elven genome that give them immortality to human DNA to extend our lifespan. By the way, they were trying to do that in the Human-3 Faction laboratories in the Eastern Swamp, and made some strides. But then the curators ordered all research to be urgently wrapped up and transferred to the new faction. Maybe those experiments were successful and immortality is too valuable a discovery to share.”

  The helicopter was already touching down on the roof of a building, but Tarasov and I were still in no hurry to leave the rotor-driven vehicle.

  “Gnat, if I could do it on my own, I wouldn’t have asked. As it stands, I have no way to commit three hundred high-level soldiers to a long-term expedition, nor do I have the crystals to pay to send them via ferry to another hemisphere of the planet. And a smaller division wouldn’t be able to hack it – the most recent attack involved over four thousand Orcs. My niece was working in the Human-25 Faction laboratories at the time. A graduate of the Novosibirsk State University, she’s a level-26 Biologist by the game nick Candy. Save her and all the others! And you know I’m good for it. I’ll find a way to repay you. I don’t give a damn what the curators say now!”

  I finally made up my mind and told Tarasov my plans:

  “I’ll send the ferry. And I will also send all available Sio-Mi-Dori assault-landing antigravs. If you can spare some troops for the operation, then good. But if not I can handle it. And we won’t be evacuating anyone – it’s too early for them to give up and retreat. Instead, the landing group will clear the node of hostile NPC’s and help them build a new fort. I’ll admit, I don’t give a damn about the biological laboratories or the experiments they were conducting, but any node on the other hemisphere of the virtual planet with a stable link to corncobs is of enormous value to me. I need locations to build the other eleven planetary shield generators, and ideally they will be constructed all
over the surface of the planet. The only way our Earth stands a chance against an invasion from outer space is if all twelve generators can be switched on while we’re still protected by the game.”

  “Sounds good!” Tarasov extended me a broad calloused hand, sealing our agreement with a handshake.

  We jumped out of the helicopter and headed for the elevator. Once in the corridor heading into the giant Dome, the leader of the Human-3 Faction made up his mind to ask a question:

  “Kirill, be honest. Is there going to be a war between our factions? No need to sign any official treaties or anything, your word is enough for me.”

  “There will not,” I assured him. “We have no real bones of contention. And I am very much counting on the help of qualified Engineers and Builders from the Human-3 Faction. For the cargo port, a thermonuclear power plant, laying underwater cables and the planetary shield generator itself on Rocky Island. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and the planet’s term of safety is ticking away inexorably. So war in nobody’s interest right now, period!”

  “Okay, if there won’t be war, I’ll call my people back from the front and direct them toward the betterment of the Human-3 Faction. We need to build a road east through the wetlands and marshes. Our scouts have reported inhabitable lands in that direction, though they are teeming with dangerous creatures. And while the road is being built, we need to handle the Centaurs and their hard-headed Antiquity faction...”

  What? I stopped short.

  “Believe me, going to war with the Centaurs would be a huge mistake! As bad as the war with the Naiads, if not even more horrible and irreparable. Do not rush into a conflict you stand little chance of winning. Speak with Centaur lady Phylira personally, don’t go through any middle-men. She likes attention and respect. Give her some pretty little bauble as a gift, she’ll appreciate it. Matriarch Phylira is a natural-born woman like any other, even though she is an NPC mare. Then you’ll have no problem reaching an agreement with her. If it’s too hard, I’ll be back to earth in two weeks. I can try to talk with Phylira on my own. I’ll bring her gifts from the stars. She will love that.”

  The two of us walked up to the foot of corncob number fifteen and I started bidding Tarasov farewell, preparing to enter the game. I was already taking my first steps up the spiral staircase when the leader of the First Legion called out:

  “And Kirill, you are gonna save Gerd Tamara, right? I know she’s a weirdo and her mind is a bit off kilter, but our troops under the Dome really respect and love her.”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t know the current situation with the arrestee and it ran counter to my principles to promise something I was not sure I could accomplish. But Igor Tarasov took my silence in his own way.

  “Yes, I heard Tamara has committed a terrible crime. And I understand that as ruler of the First Directory you are obliged to act within the bounds of the law. But if there is no way to stay her execution... at least let Tamara die quickly and painlessly!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two. Return to the Stars

  I FLEW UP to the fourteenth floor of the corncob without even losing my breath. Finally my virt pod! How I missed it! The black plastic lid obediently slid back with a light touch, revealing a soft cushion below. So, what the heck is this?! On the plastic side of the virt pod there was a scrawling nasty inscription scratched in: “Gnat is a greedy son of a bitch!!!”

  My excellent spirits after the early release fizzled out a bit. I looked pensively at this local example of “cave painting.” I wonder who I offended this time and how. After all, it couldn’t have been some unknown beginner who just entered the game and only knew me through rumors. No, the guards let this person enter corncob number fifteen, which meant they worked here. And that meant they started playing the game approximately the same time as I did – somewhere around seven weeks ago. By local standards, that would make them a pretty respectable player at level forty or maybe even fifty, but here they were behaving no better than a schoolyard bully...

  And in theory it wouldn’t be all that hard to find out who this bully was. Everything under the Dome was recorded on security cameras, and I knew for a fact there was one pointed directly at my gaming cabin. Just check the footage from the last two days and it would be settled. The vandal that damaged this valuable technology would be revealed. But first of all, I wasn’t feeling up to going back down fourteen floors to tell someone about an incident that really wasn’t that significant. And second, sure they could find the player, but then what? They wouldn’t be expelled from the faction or anything. They’d just put the fear of god into them and let the person go.

  But nevertheless, I was in no rush to enter the game. Instead, I walked over to the thick glass window and took in the view over the subterranean Dome from fourteen stories up. There were no people in the park or on any of the athletic fields. And that was no surprise. Leng Tarasov still had them all on combat alert, and everyone was in the game preparing to repel an invasion of Relict Faction marauders. Hrm... I breathed a heavy sigh. What a shame. That was how I became an outsider to the Dome players. And although this was a world away from what happened before – at the very least no one was coming after me with fists and brass knuckles – nevertheless it was hard to count on friendship while in charge of a faction most players considered an enemy. So I was in for more and more expressions of discontent like this one.

  And though after my release I was on the verge of changing my mind about obtaining a new exit point into the real world – in the end the Dome curators learned their lesson and would be much more cautious before giving me another shake-down – now I wanted again to get rid of the invisible but all too palpable target on my back. With such unhappy thoughts in mind, I entered the game. So, what’s changed? I opened my character sheet:

  Leng Gnat. Human. Relict Faction.

  Level-92 Listener

  Statistics:

  Strength

  14

  Agility

  18

  Intelligence

  33 + 5

  Perception

  29 + 2

  Constitution

  17

  Luck modifier

  +3

  Drones

  2

  Parameters:

  Hitpoints

  2080 of 2080

  Endurance points

  1519 of 1519

  Magic points

  1798 of 1798

  Carrying capacity

  62 lbs.

  Fame

  90

  Authority

  77

  Skills:

  Electronics

  83

  Scanning

  61

  Cartography

  80

  Astrolinguistics

  95

  Rifles

  59

  Mineralogy

  58

  Medium Armor

  68

  Eagle Eye

  85

  Sharpshooter

  43

  Targeting

  41

  Danger Sense

  78

  Psionic

  102 First specialization taken

  Mental Fortitude

  105 First specialization taken

  Machine Control

  100 First specialization taken

  Mysticism

  49

  I BLINKED BECAUSE I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. How much Fame now??? A +6 (!!!) boost to the figure, which Uline Tar said was the “hardest to level.” You just have to get your name doing the rounds on the galactic news for a day, then have that catch the eye of the rulers of a couple great spacefaring races. By the way, it would be hard for me to convince the Prelates of Tailax I was still reliable or at the very least neutral with such authoritative representatives of hostile governments publicly interceding on my behalf.

  So, and what do we have here? I had already closed my character data, but there was an obtrusive message obstructing my field of view
, this one bright red and in Relict:

  Listener! The data you sent is of enormous value. Hierarch (a set of symbols I didn’t recognize, probably a personal name) needs your help. No allied military squadrons detected nearby. So you have been assigned an obligatory mission: to rescue (the same set of symbols) at any cost. As a reward you will be promoted in rank to rung two with corresponding change of class.

  I spent a long time staring at the message. My mind was just wandering in complete disarray. What to do now? Drop everything and fly through hyperspace to the “pocket” where a flotilla of automatic Precursor hunters had spent the last few millennia besieging the ship of the Relict Hierarch? I doubt they’d be very happy to see me show up on the battlefield again. Most likely, the Symbiotes would simply destroy my starship so I wouldn’t trip them up, then continue the siege. But my mission didn’t proscribe a specific term of any kind. And if the Symbiotes hadn’t been able to get through the ancient starship’s defenses for several millennia, a couple more days or weeks wouldn’t make much difference.

  I dismissed the message on the internal surface of my helmet faceplate, but another one instantly came to replace it:

  Listener! In the most recent period, your share of data transmitted to the Pyramid was 100% An unbelievable result! The Relict hierarchs are proud of you! From this point forward, your Energy Armor may accept level-3 modifications (maximum). You have unlocked the front left arm slot for additional accessories and an additional drone slot. You have also been permitted to change gender ahead of schedule.