by Ros Per
“I want fun!” Sargos was brief. “Interest. Lots of it.” Shrugging, he added, “I like it here.”
At least not everything is so bad as it might be with their attitudes. It means that we have something to work with. Now there’s only the last step left. All our further cooperation will depend on this.
“Don’t take offense, please. I am being kind to you, but I can see only two options if we are to cooperate further. The first one is the simplest: I work for the duration of the contract, and after a week, I close it and go about my business, and then you yourselves deal with any problems.”
“And the second one?” I might have guessed – it was Quartz again. Does he have verbal diarrhea?
“The second option is difficult and if you choose it, you may end up cursing your choice, at least more than once. Basically, as we are doing this task, you will start obeying me and carrying out my orders. However, at the same time, can I promise that you will reach the goals that you’ve just told me about. You’ll begin to develop more or less correctly, using the strengths of your professions. Choose for yourself. You still have time to make a decision until we’ve finished clearing these buildings. And I am the one who’s going to place the charges. Only one request from me: don’t wander off, I can cope if left alone, but I’m not so sure about you all managing it.”
Having said all that, I squeezed past the rest of the guys and headed to the stairs leading down to the basement. I had locked the door down and secured the plasma grenade to it when I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I picked up the machine gun and turned sharply, seeing an unexpected guest who turned out to be Sargos. As it turned out, he’d been curious about how I would place the grenades.
“Well, let me tell you,” I started to explain, hiding my smile. “I have in my hands here a seemingly ordinary grenade, which most people think of only as a throwing weapon, but if we use it like this and affix it here ...”
As a result of this explanation, instead of only a few minutes, I spent almost fifteen on the installation of the grenades, while telling Sargos in detail why I was doing this and not that, and what other options could be used in such cases. I didn’t forget to emphasize over and over again that the options for the complexity and installation of various explosive devices depend solely on the miner’s imagination, and the more sophisticated his imagination, the harder it is to detect and even more so neutralize the installed device.
Judging by the growing interest in his eyes and the fact that he installed the last grenade at the entrance to the building independently, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth with the effort, I knew then that, regardless of what the others might decide, I already had someone whom I had taught something. True, the fact I knew little beyond the basics was still an issue. I hadn’t gone deep into the mining and explosive business, having stopped at the sapper’s field course. Even so, I think this will be enough to give him an impetus for developing in the right direction. At a minimum, I can teach him how to deal with mines and the most popular explosives, but then let him study complex multi-component explosives and detonators with multilevel defense systems on his own, if he displays an interest in these things.
When we returned, the discussion seemed to still be in full swing, but upon seeing us, they stopped, we reorganized into a marching column, and moved to clear the building, floor by floor. After so many blunders on their part, I was somewhat surprised to see that, when confronted with different mobs, they displayed good teamwork, and very quickly managed to accept me as a fighter in my own battle pattern. I hunted for the detected mob, hiding behind Tilorn, acting as a defensive fortification, trying to shoot the mob while it was still approaching. If the monster turned out to be tenacious and still managed to reach the armored medic, Tilorn was already in the game, trying to keep the enemy at bay with his shield, occasionally, if possible, using his mechanical hammer, which, at the moment of impact, would release a small stream of compressed air from the opposite side, increasing the speed of the hammer. It would probably be more correct to call it a pneumatic hammer.
In the meantime, while the mob was hanging onto this improvised tank, Castra would spin around it, beating the mob all over with her arms and legs. Sometimes, when she struck with her fists, she would release a pulse from her gloves, increasing the damage by five points. In the meantime, while my neighbors were dealing with the next monster, I retreated a little and controlled the approaches, in case a second enemy started to turn up. After the mob had been killed, Quartz and Sargos got to work, and while they were looting their prey, the others covered for them, spreading around the pair.
We gradually moved forward in this way until we ran into an ambush of spider-like creatures that poured out in large numbers from every crack, after spitting on us almost in unison. I thought of them as spider-like chiefly because they spat out something like a web, quickly weaving it over all the members of the group, except for me.
I got out thanks to my reflexes, having managed to get away from the main mass of spit rolling beside me. The monsters had four legs, and between them, a large, round mouth located in the center, filled with small, but very sharp looking teeth. At the top, there was one large convex faceted eye, which, most likely, provided a view in all directions at once, leaving the zone under the torso as their only blind spot. They weren’t incredibly big: thirty centimeters wide and only twenty centimeters above the floor; and they were only level five, but there was a truly terrible number of them. I had to constantly move along a weird trajectory, practically dancing around my group, which now stood encased in yellowish cocoons.
My movements were complicated by the steady spitting of new webs, which needed to be cleaned away in order to get rid of them from my body. I was glad that I had managed to avoid the initial general salvo. Now there were only single shots. It was clear that the mobs had to build up their reserves of this substance. In the end, I had to spin around, holding parts of the “Crutches” in my hands, jabbing them into the mobs' eyes. I had to do this because the moving parts of weapons were completely jammed by the sticky web, which I hadn’t had the time to completely clean off. The monsters were very weak, and one blow was almost enough to finish them off since they apparently survived by immobilizing their enemies, and not by direct contact.
Having finished off the last of the monsters, I almost fell over from exhaustion. However, I needed to get up and immediately release the others, who had already begun to bombard me with messages. Having rested and put ourselves in order, we finished clearing these buildings, having in the process gathered various items in such quantity that it was difficult for the whole group to drag them unaided. While we rested, waiting for the technicians to come around, we discussed the decision that they had to take.
“Volper, regarding what you said,” Tilorn started, and hesitated again. He had a bad habit of making long pauses in a conversation, as if reflecting on each sentence. “I don’t know if you can really turn us into a good group, but your fighting showed us that you rock. Therefore, we have decided to trust you and accept your conditions.”
“Err… ... was that really a fight?” I didn’t understand at first. “Oh, are you talking about those spiders, or whatever the system calls them? Kirdzers? Hang on, you were all wrapped up in cocoons while that was going on.”
“One of Castra’s eyes didn’t get covered, so she recorded the video of your fight with her neural interface, and then sent it to the rest of us.”
“Okay, well, yes.” I stretched. “I didn’t notice her recording me. My mistake. I admit it. Well, do you agree to my terms?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll rest up for the remainder of today, and from tomorrow onward I’ll do my best to turn you all into wolves in this little sheep farm.”
“But what about the contract?” Tilorn seemed surprised, and the others, as far as I could see, had been listening intently to our conversation.
"That contract of yours isn’t worth anyt
hing.”
“How so?”
“There are so many loopholes in it that, if I wanted to, I could turn you into my slave.”
“Um ... Um ...” He choked out.
“Yeah, it’s pretty simple, really. First of all, I could easily give anyone any information about you, simply by typing it out on a tablet and then leaving it. Whoever picks it up and reads it is not my problem. Secondly, anyone can simply send one of you, or all of you together, on a mission resulting in your death. You get to wait twelve hours to respawn, and cannot fulfill the conditions of the contract, and as a result, you will owe me two million credits each. And that’s only if you look at the simplest, standard situations. There are a lot of options with this contract. If I was in charge and I wanted to, for example, I could personally ask the commander to give you a task from the outpost. Something like an annual sweep of everything that came closer than a meter to me, and until you finish the current task, you cannot terminate the contract. Actually, I’m surprised at how you were not used like this before, under this agreement.”
I saw their dumbfounded faces as they digested the kinds of serious problems they might’ve experienced. Their expressions were worthy of being recorded in the form of a picture with the caption "So that’s the way it is." Quartz was the first to come to his senses and let out a long, loud stream of words, to which I hardly bothered paying attention. The rest only nodded their heads in agreement.
CHAPTER XXVIII: TEST YOUR MIGHT
I tried to land a strike with my open palm as I was diving under my opponent’s arm. However, my blow was diverted, which caused me to lose balance for a moment. I corrected quickly, but still ended up almost getting a knee to the face for my trouble.
I tried to angle the knee to work in my favor, using my weight and the leverage I had from my position. Just as I had shifted, angling to take down my sparring partner, we both got knocked down by a wave of force. I was cursing up a storm, while Castra, who I had been sparring with until then, remained stoic.
“You get Quartz, and I will take care of Sargos,” I instructed her. “Stop already!” I shouted at the two, who had begun to realize how much trouble they were in.
Of course, they didn’t listen to me and ran away from us, moving at full speed across the range. They were well aware that if we got them now, they would be beaten for sure. I had to follow them around the landfill for about three minutes, which gave them time to work out a plan and they tried to lure us into a trap. Castra and I were spared only because I noticed them exchanging some signals between them, which gave me enough time to send a brief message to her. As a result, after Sargos used some miniature noisemakers, which, after a short delay, also put up a smoke screen, they both abruptly changed their trajectory and jumped out of the smoke at a completely different spot. They’d expected us to fall for their trick, so they were surprised to find us waiting for them. They looked resentful, but quickly resigned themselves to the fact they’d lost.
- The idea was good, you just executed it poorly. What was the point of communicating with gestures in a situation where the one who knows those gestures is fighting against you? -
Sargos lowered his eyes and began to nervously tap his foot, while Quartz was looking at the ceiling again and scratching his head. Six days had already passed since that memorable conversation. Since then, I’ve trained them every day for four hours at the general testing range, always trying to pick a time when the other players weren’t around. I wouldn’t say they’ve progressed much, but at least they had an understanding of their strengths and weaknesses now. And, most importantly, they’d managed to learn that it wasn’t crucial to have a certain skill, but a solid grasp of what you could do and how you should use your abilities. Considering their rather flexible minds and the endless experiments and enhancements on which they’d spent almost all their money, they were quite effective. Still, we had other things to consider.
- What the hell did you guys even do? We had to stop sparring because of you - I asked them in annoyance.
- “Yeah, these bastards almost burned my hair!” Castra added in a huff.
- And that’s your own fault! How many times have I told you: “Either sort out your hair or get a helmet!” - I replied, unmoved by her anger.
- “A helmet would limit both my mobility and ability to see,” she disagreed, and then quietly added, apparently hoping that I wouldn’t hear her: “And it would make me look like a cheap slut.”
- I'm still waiting for an answer, - I reminded the two blockheads in front of me.
“Well, that is ... In general, uh ...” Quartz began, but I interrupted him.
- Don’t mumble! -
- “Okay, so, I’d wanted to make reconnaissance drones with the kamikaze function. But their behavioral module malfunctioned, and instead of simply finding you, they immediately rushed you, initiating a self-destruct. Apparently, they mistook you for a target. At least Sargos had only put a small charge on them.”
- Why the hell did you even send it after us?! Be grateful that Tilorn was stuck in the research center today; otherwise, he would’ve arranged for you to train and spar until your bruises had bruises! Well, that's enough for today, clean yourselves up and hurry back to the base; we need to check the object that was discovered yesterday. -
The guys, who were in high spirits because they hadn’t been punished, headed for the base. Castra joined them and they began discussing something. Well, more precisely, Quartz was explaining something to Sargos, actively using various hand gestures as he did so. It was clear that he’d come up with something again, but Castra followed closely behind him, ready to hit him should he get out of hand. Hmmm ... as I looked at these two, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Castra and Quartz were in love with each other. At the same time, they were both afraid to take the first step in the relationship, and didn’t seem to realize how much they were doing to get each other’s attention.
Although even Sargos could see it plain as day, none of us were interfering. They’re young, let them figure out their relationship themselves; the rest of us will watch and laugh. I went the other way, or rather, toward the research center. I wanted to talk to Tilorn without anyone else present. After waiting for him at the entrance, we started slowly walking to the base, discussing something that I’d been worrying about as we did so.
- Well, did you manage to find anything out? - I prompted him.
- “I found something out, but I don’t understand anything. On the one hand, everything is logical and even reasonable, but if you look at it from another angle, it becomes utter nonsense.”
- Come on, don't toy with me here. -
- “Ok, I will describe the situation to you as is, and then you can decide for yourself whether to accept it or not because, from my point of view, this is complete nonsense.”
- Yes, yes, tell me already, I’m dying to know. -
- “Alright, so, if you look at your problem from within the framework of the world around us, then everything is very clear: your low “Mind” stat is affecting you negatively because it’s not only responsible for you being able to use psionics, but also affects self-control and logical decision making. All in all, everything is fine with you, you just need to train your mind a little more.”
- That makes no sense. How is that even possible? -
- “That's why I don't understand anything. After all, the capsule shouldn’t be able to influence your brain. Well, apart from basics like adrenaline, fear, joy – all of those can be stimulated in your brain by a certain environment, or, for example, by injecting some drugs into the blood, imitating the natural chemistry of the body. But they haven’t yet figured out how to influence thought processes… well, in official medicine, at least. I don’t know what kind of devices the military has in its secret labs. Maybe they could do it, but I doubt that gaming corporations have access to military hardware.”
- Yes, the military doesn’t have anything like that, they only have emitters that cause
panic, chaos… at most, they can scramble thought processes, slowing down the reaction time of the enemy. - Seeing Tilorn's intrigued look, I quickly turned the subject back around. - Ok, let's say that the capsule can directly influence the brain, affecting it according to the player’s stats. I still don’t understand what Mind has to do with it. I would figure that my Intellect is responsible for mental activity, and that’s a decent stat for me, more or less. -
- “No, that’s responsible for how much knowledge you can handle, your speed of learning and mastering new things. But the Mind stat is responsible for how the brain processes this knowledge ... Let me try and explain it like this: you observe some kind of conflict, for example, and only have 1 Mind. You’d rush in without thinking to help the side that you think is right in this situation. If you have three points instead, you’d first try to assess if you’re strong enough to intervene. At five points, on top of that, you’d also be trying to figure out the consequences of your actions, whether there’s any point in intervening and if you should first call someone to help. With eight points, besides all of the above mentioned things, you also immediately figure out several ways you can intervene, depending on what options are available to you, and you’d pick the right one. And if you already have a dozen points in Mind, then, like a chess player, you begin to work out dozens of various combinations in your head, with a bunch of variables, and then, based on those, you would act as efficiently as possible.”
- Wow ... I didn’t understand half of that, but I got the gist. With a low Mind, I behave like a commander that’s hungry for glory, not really caring about using my troops to the best of their ability. -