"A weak one cannot, but a strong one... I do not know. To be honest, I have never tried."
"Alright, would anyone mind if we checked?" I asked in surprise, pointing at the head of the Green House. "I hope that Duke Kevin royl Olefir will not refuse us in this modest experiment?"
A few seconds of dead silence followed, after which there came a predictable, but highly negative reaction from all members of the Green House. I was accused of going insane, as well as being a boor and a gadfly; they even threatened to make me regret my impudence... But it was too late to stop me. I went around the table, walked right up to the Duke and placed my palm down on it.
"Honorable Duke Kevin Royl Olefir! If you would like to prove that you are not an android, I would ask you to take your bejeweled dagger, the symbol of your ancient power and nobility, and prick your palm with it. If it bleeds, I swear to you that neither I nor anyone else from the Orange House will hold any grievances against you whatsoever. I pray that you take your blade and do it."
Everyone around froze in anticipation of the Duke's reaction to such a flagrant provocation. Kevin royl Olefir took out his blade decisively, gave it a wave... and lowered his arm.
"You yourself know that I cannot do that..." said the old man fatalistically.
A system message appeared unexpectedly. Everyone present flinched in unison:
The Head of the Green House, Duke Kevin royl Olefir ton Lavaelle, has resigned.
* * *
The old man had long ago been led away by the guard, but the Emperor remained sitting with his head low and his hands covering his face. No one dared leave the room.
"How could he? How could he?!" repeated August royl Toll ton Akad again and again.
My sister Violetta moved her chair closer to mine and asked quietly:
"Have you known long?"
"No, I figured it out here at the meeting. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the last few days talking with my android, and I started noticing all kinds of minor tics that even robots have. For example, if a person turns their head one hundred times, every time it will be a bit different. An android does it the exact same way every one of the hundred times, down to the little details – as long as you don't specially ask it to mix it up a bit. The Duke was sniffling the same way every time, in imitation of a light cold. On the fifth or seventh time I was already pretty sure, but by the tenth time, I had no doubt. He was also massaging his sore hand with enviable regularity. If I hadn't been purposely monitoring an androids behavior before that, I never would have guessed."
"Georg, why did you sell your holding?" wondered my sister.
It made no sense to lie, so I admitted honestly:
"Where was I supposed to get money for all my ships? The three Katanas will become the core of my fleet, but their price tag is nowhere near cheap... All I could afford right off the bat was the down payment and, as it were, I'll be paying the remainder with the sale of Tialla."
"But didn't the Orange House help you buy ships?" suddenly wondered the Emperor, as I unexpectedly discovered that my private conversation with my sister was being heard by everyone in the room.
The head of the Orange House became very embarrassed at the question and quickly assured the Emperor that the Orange House would help Prince Georg and give him the money to purchase the three ships under construction.
"No need!" the Emperor suddenly declared decisively. "I will pay for the construction of the three Katanas for Crown Prince Georg from my personal funds. I am very satisfied with your work, Prince, and let this be my contribution to strengthening the defense of Sector Eight. My only wish – well, you might even call it an order – is that after the contract with the android is up, or as soon the necessity for it fades, the robot must be destroyed. It may have information in its memory bank that is too valuable to fall into the hands of a stranger. You do understand that, right Georg?"
I nodded in silence. The Emperor then, clearly satisfied with my pliability, wondered:
"Perhaps you have some other questions or wishes of me?"
I contemplated it for a second and said:
"Just one thing. I officially request to be removed from the list of Mystics!"
Everyone in the room gasped at once. Nevertheless, I continued, trying to speak firmly and decisively:
"My mission is to defend Sector Eight from any and all threats. And I cannot allow myself to lie around in a drugged-up dream for several days in a row, then spend another chunk of time waking back up. Yes, I am aware of the general opinion that it is impossible to recover from crystal addiction. But it was as a Mystic that I examined this path and realized that there still is a way out. Yes, it will be very difficult, but I will manage! I want you all to know that I have destroyed all doses of crystals on my ships and given an unambiguous order to my guards to immediately kill any person who tries to foist that drug on me."
"Crown Prince, give me your hand!" demanded the Dark Mother.
The old woman held my palm for an unexpectedly long time. For the first time, I even overheard some muffled echoes of her emotions, then she said delightedly:
"Prince, your faith that you will succeed is simply unsurpassable! I am even inclined to believe that this faith may overcome the unavoidable. A certain chance exists, though it will not be easy."
"Good, the request is approved!" proclaimed the Emperor.
Class change
New Class: Aristocrat
Global fame increase. Current value +6
Global standing increase. Current value -25
"It’s good to be the Emperor," he said, as another player's numbers changed with great ease. The meeting was over, and everyone began leaving the hall. I wanted to speak with Violetta, but my sister was delayed by a conversation with the Green House Duke. So I went out into the hallway alone.
The two pea-pod brothers were waiting for me there. Keno was blocking my path:
"What, Georg, you think you've won? Not likely!"
Both of my relatives simultaneously rifled through the inner pockets of their clothes before producing two transparent boxes containing glowing spheres:
"How long has it been since you took crystals? You think you'll be able to refuse?"
I didn't have time to answer or react in any way to the provocation. A criss-cross flashing of blades came out of nowhere, leaving both Green House aristocrats collapsed on the stone floor, sliced down the middle by the frightening blows. Popori de Cacha carefully placed his bloodied blade before me and laid down on the floor, not trying to hide and accepting his fate.
The startled, but numerous guards spent another second staring at the chameleon who had just murdered two members of Imperial upper aristocracy and then threw themselves on him from all sides. My consternation also passed, and I unexpectedly threw myself forward, covering the chameleon with my body:
"Stop! He was following my orders!"
I was shoved fairly unceremoniously on the floor, my arms were pushed behind my back, and I heard the clink of the handcuffs.
Atonement in Battle
My cell was not very big. Just six-by-ten feet. Windows had not been provided for, and all the "conveniences" were right in front of me. The one special feature of this space was that it was completely isolated from the outside world – I could not send or receive game messages or call up guides or information; a large proportion of the game's functions were not working. I was only allowed to install a data reader to get the information from the Iseyek drive and a computer with no connection to the outside world for interpreting the information. So I spent two days in front of a screen, watching battle recordings and studying the aliens' errors.
I worked myself to the point of exhaustion, spending the minimum possible time on sleeping and eating. I had no choice if I didn't want to go insane or be overwhelmed by the innumerable questions swarming around in my head. Two players had been killed right before my eyes by a third player! Is that even possible?! Then what about when Mr. G.I. said that death
was "nothing to be afraid of, you'll come back in the medical center." As far as I understood, neither Rigo nor Keno had respawned and both were finally and irrevocably dead in the game. This is a game, right?
I was mentally returned to my first day on the job. The arguments I had considered sufficient to call this world virtual – the popup messages, the ship maps and everything else – really could have just been the result of highly developed technology. Built-in identifiers in important individuals, a unified system of relations between governments, factions and the like that all races could understand. After all, it's a real hassle to meet someone you don't know – figuring out who this person is, and how you should interact with them, etc. But now, one look at the popup and it becomes clear immediately if someone is friend or foe.
I was called for interrogation four times while detained. I never met with the same investigators twice, and the Truth Seeker that accompanied them was also different each time. But it always went the same way: it was suggested that I admit that my bodyguard acted alone, because of some incomprehensible hatred he'd formed for the Green House. I was assured that, if I agreed to that version of the tragic events, I would be immediately declared totally innocent and released then and there. But in that case, Popori de Cacha would get the death penalty.
That deal wasn't good enough for me, and every time I gave the investigators the same example: Two idiots see a power transformer and read a warning sign: "Do not enter, you will die!!!" Furthermore, they understand well what an electric current is, and how dangerous it could be. Nevertheless, they neglect the rule, break open the transformer door and go inside; then, predictably, they die. Who is at fault in that situation? Is it the construction workers who installed the transformer? Or the scientists who discovered electric current? No – it is those two idiots who climbed inside a transformer, despite the obvious warning.
The investigators would admit that the two situations were obviously similar, then ask some questions of little merit and return me to the cell. I even formed the impression that all these interrogations were just a smokescreen and the real negotiations about my fate were being carried out on a different level altogether. I also had no doubt that I was being observed round-the-clock, and that fact would soon receive a clear confirmation.
My muscles began writhing. For some time, I consoled myself with the hope that it was just a spasm due to the cool air in the cell, but I would soon be forced to admit that it was another drug withdrawal episode. I didn't even have time to become very afraid before the doors opened and the prison doctor entered, implements at the ready. In truth, he was quite ham-handed and bruised up the whole crease of my elbow and wrist in his search of my deep veins before he was finally able to get the needle in, but his treatment didn't help right away. And it also confirmed that unseen observers were keeping a watch over me.
At the end of the second day of detainment, the doors to the chamber opened, letting an unexpected visitor in. It was Duke Paolo royl Anjer, head of the Orange House. I moved over on the bed, offering my visitor a seat, but he did not accept. He took a disgusted look around my cell, pausing on the monitor on the wall. On it, as it were, the space battle was being played back at a very slowed-down speed.
"You can't seriously still find that interesting?" exclaimed the old Duke in surprise, pointing at the screen.
"Of course. It's the destruction of the Virho fleet in the Aysar cluster. It's the final phase of the battle. The battle has already been lost, individual Iseyek ships have survived and are trying to escape, but the chances aren't good. In the distance, the Uukresh is being brutalized. The carrier's powerful shields are down, practically all the mother ship's frigates have been destroyed, and the enemy is finishing up by taking down the utterly defeated giant. And here, look, the fleet commander, Admiral Ogesss Toosk, is abandoning his last remaining forces to rescue the Uukresh. There are four battleships, one of which he is on himself. Why? The admiral cannot understand that attack is hopeless and that all the battleships will be destroyed. He is fully capable of saving the four, very valuable battleships, but is openly sacrificing them in an attempt to save the Uukresh. You must agree, it is strange! The combat value of a carrier is about the same as four or five battleships, but it is undamaged and has a full set of frigates. What we see here is the burning skeleton of a mother ship, not representing even half of its value, and the Iseyeks have nowhere to fix it – all their docks are busy with other work. Take a look here, the enemy has totally refocused its attention on the recently-arrived battleships, and the Uukresh leaves the battle, saving itself at the very last moment. In a few minutes, the battleships will be destroyed one after the next, the Virho fleet – the main Swarm strike force – practically ceases to exist. Put yourself in the Iseyek admiral's place. What could be so valuable on the Uukresh that the admiral would sacrifice his best ships and even his own life? Your thoughts, Duke?"
The head of the Orange House thoughtfully stroked his aquiline nose:
"Except perhaps his own son and heir... But the Iseyek are insects. They basically don't have direct blood relationships."
"Yes, you are correct, Duke. They have communal egg clutches and three genders. They do not know their own children. So, the idea about the heir is no good. But what exactly was on the carrier, I do not know... However, Duke, you did not come here to listen to my theories. Has something changed in my situation?"
"Yes, you could say that. A half hour ago, I was with the Emperor. The moment, to be honest, wasn't the most appropriate... but it's all relative. Everyone really was not interested in talking about you, the whole court was going nuts – there has been an alien incursion in Sector Fourteen. Our enemy has captured a poorly defended warp beacon and cut off three distant allied kingdoms from the unified transport network. The Red House is planning a counter attack with the united forces of Sectors Fourteen and Thirteen. The Imperial space marshal has already supported the idea and promised support. As we speak, the military men are sitting in their seats having a meeting. The Emperor is also with them. When I snuck up there with your papers, August signed them without even looking, as long as it got me out of the way so he could go back to more important matters. But, nevertheless, the Emperor did say one thing about you: "At least that one does something useful, unlike most other princes. Release him, let him atone for his guilt in battle."
"So is my fleet to fly to Sector Fourteen and participate in the attack?" I clarified.
"No, that didn't come up. And also how would you even do that? It is forbidden for Great House military ships to enter the Imperial Core, and there is no other way of getting from Sector Eight to Sector Fourteen without going through it. And even if the Emperor gives his approval to your fleet's passage, the Red House will perceive Orange House ships appearing in their territory as aggression and a declaration of war. It is simply recommended that you get out of the Core as quickly as possible, return to your fleet and go about your business. In regards to August's words about 'atoning in battle,' do not take them literally. But if a situation should arise where you can do something notable in the Emperor's eyes, don't miss the chance. For example, try to solve the problem with the Brotherhood of the Stars. The Orange House is still blamed for the loss of these territories. It would be nice if we could extract the code to the pirate warp beacon from the captain you've detained. I don't know how, and I don't want to, but get that information out of him. Then we'll be able to call a general assembly and descend upon the pirates for a visit with all of the Orange House's forces!"
"Has my bodyguard also been released?" I clarified just in case, as Paolo royl Anjer and I were already walking down the prison hallway to the exit. The Duke answered in the affirmative:
"As I've said, the Emperor signed everything without paying special attention. They should be releasing the chameleon soon, and I told them to send him to my ship. So, pick up your servant and return as quickly as possible with him to your yacht and get out to Sector Eight. Once you're there, no one
will be able to reach you. And I would strongly recommend that you not return to the Core systems without a particularly good reason. When the Green House finds out about this, they'll certainly file an appeal of your release, and you could be arrested again. It could be significantly more complicated to get you out a second time."
I thanked the Duke for his help and wanted to clarify all the details of my release, but the old man unexpectedly put his finger to his lips, saying that it wasn't a good idea to discuss this as there may be people listening in. But near the airlock doors, the head of the Orange House unexpectedly stopped and said, fairly deliberately, clearly and loudly, obviously wanting his words to be heard by all the microphones installed nearby:
"At the meeting with the Emperor, I promised to help you with the ships. And even though my help was not needed at that time, I have not forgotten my promise. My steward recently purchased new ships for defending the Orange House Capital: ten frigates and five destroyers. Right now it's all still packed up on a transport ship here on the Throne World. Though there is no crew yet for the military ships, I think you'll find people. Crown Prince Georg, take all these military ships as aid from the Orange House, and keep the transport for yourself too. And maybe it's not cruisers this time, but this gift will also be of use to you."
The tricky devil! I didn't even know whether to be happy at the gift or indignant. The three heavy cruiser Katanas cost two hundred ten million credits. I deposited the thirty percent down payment from my money, and the head of the Orange House had promised to pay the rest in the presence of the Emperor. Though the Emperor personally covered the deficit that time, the Duke's promise, which he claims he "has not forgotten," amounted to one hundred fifty million credits – nowhere near the three and a half million or four in the best case, which is what the frigates I was being offered were worth. It seemed like quite the uneven exchange.
Sector Eight (Perimeter Defense: Book #1) Page 17