by Ros Per
-"No, thank you, I'm leaving, I don’t have much time right now," I said, and, getting up, began to put on my backpack.
- Ah ... The time limit. Next time you’re on, drop me a line, my nickname is Lafet. You've got a reward waiting to you, - he said while I was leaving the bar.
- Time will tell, - I replied, going to the exit.
At first I thought that, after I dealt with Alckor, I could accept their offer and spend some time with them. While looking at them, I had thought it could be possible for me to team up with them. But after mentioning the limit, that is, the limitation on the time one spent in the game, I realized that this wouldn’t work. Unfortunately, my time on the network is always going to be twenty-four hours, a full day, and they’re limited in terms of time, that is, they can stay in the game for no more than twelve hours.
So my plans to join a strong clan or bring together a regular group couldn’t succeed. There is, of course, another option, but I hate to turn to extremes, once you get stuck with them, there is almost no way back. Right now, everything is going well for me, and it’s not necessary to resort to extreme measures. Looking at the timer and making sure that I still had some time left, I moved on to the administrative building. At the entrance, I was met by a clerk who had never carried anything heavier than a tablet PC in his life.
- Good afternoon! How can I help you? - The clerk asked, smiling. I was immediately disgusted by such classic office smile a la "What the fuck? Why are you here? But since you are, I'll smile at you, according to my instructions. "
- I would like to report the clearance of a dungeon and transfer the cleared territory to the outpost’s administration.
The clerk immediately rushed off somewhere, but then suddenly stopped. First, he hurried toward another room, then stopped abruptly, turning to me, as if he wanted to say something, but had again changed his mind. I hadn’t even thought that my words could ever make him that excited. But, apparently, he finally realized what he had to do and defocused his eyes, as he communicated with someone through a neural interface. After a few moments of concentrating, he again addressed me:
- Please, wait a few moments, the commander of our outpost will come to you and deal with your issue soon.
After saying that, he tried to keep still and pretended to be a statue. But it didn’t work out too well for him. His nervous glances that kept flitting all over the place and the fact that he didn’t know where to put his hands, then thrust them into his pockets, folding them at the waist level, gave away that he was very nervous and didn’t know how to act in this situation. While I was waiting for the commander, I had some time to look around, but, to my regret, there wasn’t really anything that caught my eye.
There was a plain, grayish floor, slightly lighter than the wall, with only a small, plastic table that was a wooden color bringing some disharmony into this realm of dull grayness that the hall was. I immediately recalled the reception halls of any modern administration, with their gilded chandeliers hung on all the walls, various holograms stylized to look like ancient paintings, and a bunch of other things that, in the understanding of officials, make the rooms presentable. A few minutes later, I was distracted by the approaching footsteps, which were coming, accompanied by a loud rumble, from the aisle at the far end of the reception hall.
The silhouette, at first, made me wary and I grabbed the handle of the Safirot, but, not seeing any weapons on the person, I relaxed a little. Yes, it was a former soldier, and now the commander of the outpost. The infantry armor with the closed helmet, his gestures, and even how he moved gave away the fact that he was an experienced fighter who’d survived many battles. Even when entering the hall where, I’m sure, he would come through several times a day, he immediately, with only a slight movement of his head, looked around the room completely, making sure that there was no danger to be found.
(Illustration: Commander of outpost No. 5-17-23)
- "Was it you who cleared the dungeon?" He approached me, without even taking off his helmet.
- "Are you the commander here?" I asked in turn.
The reddish eyepieces of the helmet stared at me. What was happening in the head of the commander was incomprehensible, and it was difficult to tell what was on his mind through facial expressions, because you couldn’t see anything through his infantry helmet. Six agonizing seconds passed, during which it seemed to me that I would end up buried and my body would be food for the worms - the commander's aura was so strong. He looked like just a fighter in a suit of armor, but next to him, you felt as if you were a young kid on the parade grounds, standing in front of a veteran of several major battles. It’s interesting how the game developers had been able to convey that kind of atmosphere around this character. I have no idea how they managed to do it, but it’s a fact.
But I'm a man with balls, let the fresh meat succumb to this psychological pressure; let's see whose spirit of battle is stronger. Covering my eyes a little, for just a second, I just remembered all that was entrenched deep in my soul: the commanders, under whose leadership I’d fought, the comrades who’d covered my back, sacrificing their lives for their brethren to survive, getting drenched in the blood and viscera of bodies, after a large caliber round goes into a friend with whom you’d shared the last piece of bread for a long time, the fury you feel when you agree on a safe route for women and children, and those monsters begin to pound the road where civil transport and people are moving with a large caliber artillery; the mourning, when out of a hundred fighters that you personally trained for several years, only five are alive on the parade grounds in front of you, and at the question of "How?" that you breathe out in a hoarse voice, they look away, and only one of them dares to say: "The school was mined, we had to protect the children with our bodies."
Remembering all that pride, pain, rage, and the bitterness of loss, I opened my eyes and looked at the commander, thinking the words: "I understand and respect you, but I’ve also been in battle, just like you." After several seconds of exerting pressure on each other with our heavy glares, the commander faltered and stepped back, and I had a new notification in the system messages. After that, he took off his helmet and, with a slight nod of his head, showed me that he understood everything. There was also a lot of pain and loss in his eyes, there was no need to say that the life experiences of such old wolves as us is reflected in our eyes, no matter how old we are or what we look like.
- “Follow me!” - He said and nodded his head in the direction of where I was supposed to go with him.
After passing through several corridors, we entered a small office, which only had a safe, a massive table and a similarly massive chair, and along the back wall, there was a shelf laden with arms and ammunition. Approaching the safe and opening it, he took out a metal jar and two glasses made of large-caliber shells. Putting them on the table, he poured a shot of a clear liquid into each one and, giving me one glass, he took the second one. We drank the shots in silence, dulling the memories with the bitterness of alcohol. After that, there was a silence for several minutes in the office, in which both of us were thinking about the events of our previous life. The commander shook it off and collected himself, going right for it.
- So, let's get down to business. I am the commander of this outpost, in the past, I was the special forces commander of the Forces of the Front, Major Carefire.” - He introduced himself. – “I was told that you cleared a dungeon and now you want to transfer that territory to the control of our outpost, right?”
- “Volper,” - I introduced myself in response. “Who I was in the past is no longer important, now, but at present, I’m just a mercenary trying to live in this dying world,” the Major nodded in understanding, acknowledging my right to choose to not divulge my past. - Yes, I cleared the main part of the dungeon, to which the server gave the designation of "The Lair of the Rats". But there was some incomprehensible bullshit in one of the corridors. Unfortunately, with my equipment, I couldn’t get through there, so you'l
l have to do it yourself. The available data for that part will be sent to you. The question is: what will I get for the data on the dungeon?
The commander sighed heavily, poured some more booze into his glass, lifted it, looked into it, shook it gently and put it back on the table.
- I cannot give you a lot, my budget is limited, - he said regretfully. "This is probably the smallest of all the outposts on the fifth level," he said, taking the glass again and this time drinking the contents.
- So, you rubbed the big cheeses the wrong way? - I asked thoughtfully, which made him smile wryly.
- Even worse: corporations ... But that’s all in the past, so you’d better tell me straight up, what do you want for the data?
I started thinking his words over. On the one hand, I could get a good profit using this data, if I passed it on to, for example, some developing clan or another outpost nearby. On the other hand, after a couple of minutes of talking to him, I began to sympathize with this major, for whom such a piece of cleared territory was almost like a bonanza. I really didn’t understand the reason for his interest, but these are trifles. Having weighed all the pros and cons, I voiced my decision:
- I would like to get a week’s access to the service polygon, and instructors to raise my level, for that same period, plus all the necessary equipment and ammunition, at the expense of the outpost. Also, I need an alarm button and a rapid reaction squad for the next twelve hours, with several units of cargo equipment, on the provision that seventy percent of what’s delivered to them is mine.
According to the information I’d received from the captives, each outpost had an internal training ground for training its fighters, but only those who were in the service of the commander were permitted to access these grounds, and now I had the opportunity to get access to them and pump up my skills there, without any risks to my health or additional cost. Plus, if he gave me a platoon, then I stood to make good money as well. Major Carefire pondered his decision for about ten minutes, leaning back in his chair, and then told me what he’d decided:
- I won’t give you my fighters! I will not send my guys to the slaughter; especially since it's unclear where you want them and why, - for emphasis, he also hit the table with his fist.
- I got it! My conditions are stupid, - I replied apologetically, especially since I hadn’t correctly stated the conditions. – “The soldiers are needed to deal with some bandits and then carry the spoils.”
I had a suspicion that the commander would now have a heart attack. He leaned forward abruptly, his face red, his breathing a lot deeper, his eyes bulging out, and he wheezed out in a hoarse voice:
-"Is it Alckor?" To which I nodded. “In that case, I’ll organize a full-fledged raid and escort!” He said in a loud voice.
- THAT IS A NEGATIVE! - I shouted at him. – “I need only a rapid response squad that will come in at the alarm button’s signal. And that no soldier knows where and why” seeing that he was trying to object to something, I added in my harshest voice.
-Hey, Major, you've got a piece of shit here, an informant, who reports them quicker than you give the orders. Do you want to trap the scum or find an empty base?
-I know that there’s a leak, - I heard him say, as if he were suddenly relieved. "The only thing is, I don’t know who it is."
-If everything goes well, you'll be the first to find out. So, do you agree? -
- Yes, to hell with you! If everything turns out well, I’ll have to pay you! Server, please confirm our contract! -
There he is - the direct and straightforward war dog; the others would have tried to conclude only a verbal agreement, like, for example, Carso had wanted to do. This warrior had turned to the Server himself to conclude the contract, to avoid any issues for either side.
Attention! You are signing a contract.
Terms and conditions:
The agreement is concluded between the replicant "Volper", identification number of the neurointerface KM 3585761982 (hereinafter referred to as Volper) on one hand and the commander of the outpost No. 5-17-23, Major Alexander Carefire, identification number of the SI Neural Interface 5625710132 (hereinafter referred to as Major Carefire) on the other. Volper, on his part, undertakes to transfer full possession of the cleared dungeon "The Lair of the Rats" at the coordinates of X51724925 Y53562158 to the outpost No. 5-17-23, with all the available information on the dungeon and subsequently abandons any further rights to the dungeon. Major Carefire, on his part, undertakes to pay Volper a hundred thousand credits; provide a training ground for a period of seven days; provide all the necessary instructors in that same period; provides a rapid response team, reinforced with two heavy cargo vehicles, to deal with the bandit group and the transport of the discovered loot to the territory of the outpost No. 5-17-23, recognizing Volper's right to seventy percent of the profits gained.
Do you want to conclude the contract?
Yes/ No
“Yes!” I confirmed the contract. I’d like to see who wouldn’t confirm that agreement, on such good terms.
“Yes, I do!” The commander responded. Then he added: "The group will be ready in about 40 minutes. Access to the polygon will be open in a day, you should be ready by that time. There will be someone there that can train you and confirm your level of proficiency.”
- Thank you! - I was grateful to him, truly and honestly. I was, as we spoke, creating a package of data on the dungeon in the neural interface. "Here, take it, that's all I could gather on the dungeon. Uh ... The question is, how do you transfer the rights to the dungeons?”
- In the menu of the neurointerface, there is a small part called "Property", click there and find the button labeled “transfer the rights”, you'll figure it out what to do next from there, I’m sure -
Having browsed through the interface menu, I found the section I needed. My room was registered there, along with a countdown timer that had a note that said "renting" on it, and the dungeon, with a note that said "Ownership rights: 100%". Expanding the information on the dungeon, I found a huge number of parameters, such as "Population", "Defense Systems", "Installed equipment" and a bunch of other things.
After about twenty seconds, I found the "Management" section, where the needed "Transfer Rights" button was. Clicking on it, I saw a new list of various items and settings, and a separate window was dedicated to entering the number of the interface for the person to whom I wanted to transfer the rights. Copying the number of Carefire from the contract, I pasted it into the window, filling in all the checkmarks and, moving all of sliders as far as they could go, I mentally clicked on the "Accept" button, which was located at the very bottom. A message immediately popped up:
Attention! You’re transferring the full rights to the user of the neurointerface SI 5625710132, Alexander Carefire. If you give full rights to this user, you will lose all rights to this property. Do you wish to confirm your choice?
Yes/ No
Of course, yes! Why would I still be unsure? After the confirmation, two more messages appeared in front of my eyes. I wondered why I’d had to set it up so the system messages are displayed in a special window, when some of the messages would still pop up right in front of me and block of my view.
Attention! All rights to the dungeon "The Lair of the Rats" were transferred to the user of the neurointerface SI 5625710132, Alexander Carefire.
Attention! You have fulfilled your part of the agreement concluded between you and Alexander Carefire.
I could now confirm my suspicions - it seems the devs have created all the system messages according to one template, and each line starts with "Attention!" I'm already beginning to hate that. That's right, I would’ve gladly found their writers or whoever is responsible for the texts of the system, and then broken their fingers. Seriously, couldn’t it have been possible to change the messages even slightly? Saying goodbye to the commander, who was in high spirits again, after getting the rights to the dungeon, I went to the store because I needed a little more
to shop and move out of the outpost, in order to meet the deadline given to me.
After wandering around the store for a while, I picked up a harpoon system, a couple of hundred meters of a thin, ten-millimeter cable and a few stoppers. A little apprehensive about what was to come, I bought a dozen smoke grenades and a monocular with a variable zoom of 8 up to 24. When I was already leaving store, I remembered why I’d actually come here and, going back, bought a sound suppressor for my Safirot. This toy is expensive, and it only lasts for 500 cartridges, but now I couldn’t do without it.
Going beyond the territory of the outpost and dawdling a little over the unpaved streets, I changed direction and began to move with the utmost care toward my target. I avoided all the monsters carefully, trying not to be noticed by them. After two hours, I was just a block away from my target. Choosing a medium-sized building, which had a good overview of the area from the upper floors, I began to slowly go up. If I’d correctly understood the explanation of my captives, this was exactly the building I needed. Here, the sound suppressor on the Safirot's barrel came in handy.
Getting to the fifth floor, I came across a family of meat eaters. My rapid shots quickly killed the two adult meat eaters and a brood of five babies. Standing still in one place, not moving, I listened carefully. Luckily, the screams of the dying creatures hadn’t alarmed anyone. I carefully went on climbing, observing all the rules for storming buildings, constantly holding the next stairwell in the crosshair of my gun. Reaching the 20th floor, I heard a metallic sound in one of the rooms that faced the stairwell.