by Tao Wong
“Well done,” I congratulate the group.
Still, our success is not without some cost. There’s been no word from Ingrid. We spent a decent chunk of Credits to confirm she’s alive, but her Skills make it very, very expensive to learn more. All we can do is hope.
Now there’s just one last thing. The actual vote.
Chapter 20
“Incredible,” Lana whispers, and I have to agree.
We’re standing on the viewing platform of the International Space Station, watching as Earth spins below us in all its blue-and-white glory. Amazingly, the station itself has survived the entire apocalypse and come out the other end bigger and better than before.
“I never get tired of looking at it.” The speaker is clad in a simple blue jumpsuit, no armored plates or weapons on him at all, and approaches from my left. The salt-and-pepper-mustached astronaut offers us a smile when he notices he has our attention. “Though the view has changed from the first time I saw it.”
“Commander,” I say, slightly breathless and wide-eyed. I offer him my hand with a jerk. “Thank you. For letting us on.”
Phil Katz, Overwatch, Space Commander, Star-born (Space Commander Level 8)
HP: 980/980
MP: 3780/3780
Conditions: Spatial Awareness, Domain, Gravity Shield
Lana and Mikito cock their heads at me. I ignore their incredulous looks while Commander Phil Katz shakes my hand. After I shake it a little too vigorously for a little too long, he peels his hand away and flexes it discreetly.
“You’ve done an incredible job on the station. It’s a Fort, right? How’d you get the Credits to get it fixed up?” I say as I wave my hand around.
The ISS is no longer the modular, creaky science and exploratory habitat it was before. Now it’s a fully functioning, five-kilometer-long space station with multiple docks for spaceships, remote-controlled arms, a greenhouse, and yes, artificial gravity.
“Now that’s cool.” Ali’s thoughts break through my excitement, along with a notification.
Title: Star-born
A unique title available only to those who are born in the stars (or it looks like, were in space when the System came into play - Ali), the title holder gains an intuitive understanding of space. Of course, the Star-born are hampered when on a planetary object, facing greater difficulties than the landlocked.
Effects: +10% increase in all attributes, Skills, and spells while not on a planetary object. Receive a 10% decrease in all attributes, Skills, and spells when on a planetary object.
The Commander smiles, obviously used to answering impertinent visitors, and humbly but concisely regales us with his and the crew’s adventures. Very soon, the Commander has a small audience as other humans drift over to listen to his story. It’s no surprise. The man is both naturally charismatic and pre-apocalypse famous. But like all good things, it has to end.
“Now that we have more people here,” Phil says before he looks around and waves.
A notification blooms in front of us, one titled “Rules of the ISS.”
“I’m sure you’ve all seen this,” he says. “But I’d like to remind everyone the gathering held in my station is at your request. There will be no violence during the event. Furthermore, there are specific restricted locations. Individuals found breaking the rules will be ejected from the station immediately. There are additional rules for emergency evacuation as well, which I recommend all of you read and comprehend.”
There are nods all around. One of the few advantages of using this location is that up here, the chances of an assassin showing up are extremely low. After all, entry and exit from this station is extremely closely watched. It makes the station a perfect location for the last few hours before the vote. In addition, a number of the settlement owners, including Lana, want to speak with Phil about expanding the station to improve Earth’s ability to trade with the wider galaxy.
As a newly developing Dungeon World, we have a strong draw as a trade hub due to all the rare loot and materials which come from the various imported monsters. Add the mutations of our own terrestrial species and well, we’ve got a lot of trade material. However, the fact stands that not all spaceships are designed to enter atmosphere, so it makes more sense to develop the station to receive incoming freighters and transfer goods back and forth using dedicated transport shuttles. Of course, the upgraded Fort needs a significant influx of Credits to become a fully functioning trade station.
With his pronouncement made, the various other humans dispersed into their own groups.
“Well, nice to meet a group of Canadians, but I’ve got other guests to see to,” the Commander says, flicking his eyes to the clustered groups of Galactics who hang around the large viewing platform.
“Of course, of course,” I say, smiling widely.
Once he’s moved away from us, Phil gets mobbed by the other settlement owners. I admire the man, the way his easy smile never leaves his face even as he answers a million and one questions.
As I stare at his departing figure, I find my thoughts interrupted by giggling. “What?”
“Nothing. Commander.” Lana’s lips twitch while Mikito does her best to keep a straight face.
“Never seen you be so respectful,” Katherine adds.
“That’s Phil Katz,” I hiss and wave. “These guys, all of them, they’re astronauts. The best of the best at… well, anything. And they built this. Of course I’m respectful.”
“I do believe it’s a little case of hero worship,” Ali crows. “Who’d have thought boy-o had a heart?”
“Not me,” a silken smooth voice answers, one which makes me tense and straighten.
Lana’s gaze darts to where the tall Truinnar is then back again to me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and summation. I ignore it while silently cursing my forgetfulness. Why wouldn’t the damn man be here?
“Roxley,” I say and incline my head.
Roxley raises an eyebrow while Vir meets the inquiring gazes sent his way by Lana and Mikito with his usual imperturbable face.
“Redeemer,” Roxley says with a light smile on his face. But I can tell he’s a bit annoyed at me.
I draw a deep breath, excuses flashing through my mind. I’ve been busy. I forgot to call. I didn’t think we had that kind of relationship. Then I shut down the line of thinking with an exhalation. Later. We’ve got bigger things to fry.
“Are we ready?” I say, my gaze flicking around us as an indication of what I’m speaking of.
It’s strange. Even though theoretically the vast majority of those here are on our side, I still feel as though we’re besieged. Perhaps I just really, really want tomorrow’s vote to go through. Even though we’ll get another chance in another six months, the fragile alliances we’ve managed to weave could easily shatter by then.
“I have acquired the votes and agreements,” Roxley says. “There will not be any surprises on my end.”
“Good.” I relax slightly, though I chide myself after a moment. Of course Roxley’s got his side handled. As long as I’ve known him, he’s handled his affairs well. Well, except for the Duchess, but we were somewhat out-classed then. If it weren’t for my willingness to destroy the entire town to get our way, we probably wouldn’t have won.
Sometimes, I still get nightmares from that day. There are times when I wonder exactly how far I would have gone. And other times, I know. I’m not entirely sure which is worse.
We try a few more polite sentences of conversation, but the tension between Roxley and me is so high the group breaks up soon after. Lana moves over to speak with Katherine to check on who’s wavering and to press hands. Mikito heads over to the Combat Classers to do much the same, in a more direct manner. Me, I head toward Bipasha to confirm we’re good to go.
As I close in on the Bangladeshi woman, I see her in the midst of a discussion with the Chinese representatives. My lips thin slightly, especially as I realize my lip-reading won’t be of much use here. Obviously their
choice to use Teochew rather than Mandarin is specifically to avoid people like me lip-reading them. It’s particularly annoying since I actually went and bought the language package from the Shop.
“Mr. Lee.”
“Redeemer.”
“Sir.”
Various other greetings flow from the settlement owners, Bipasha, and their aides. I return the greetings politely enough, smiling and nodding, but it doesn’t take me long to note one particularly young fellow, with a great head of hair and a slight curl to his lips, paying particular attention to me. A quick perusal of his Status offers nothing suspicious.
Fang Lei, Bridge of the Two Rivers (Chosen One Level 38)
HP: 1280/1280
MP: 980/980
Conditions: Shielded, Poison Resistance, Fate’s Kiss
“Interesting Class,” I say to Fang Lei.
The man’s smile grows wider, though smile is a bit generous. Smirk would be a better description. “It’s a prestige Class. Much like yours. Paladin. What a… Western… Class.”
“Galactic actually,” I say with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the term prestige Class before.”
“I would not expect you to have. It is a term coined only recently, to describe Classes which are rarer and have more stringent requirements. Those which are prestigious.”
“Fang Lei is the only one in China to have received the Class,” an older man says with a smile, patting the younger man’s shoulder almost paternalistically. “We are extremely lucky to have him.”
“And Cheng Shao,” I add, just to see to their reaction. It’s everything I expected—a slight flinch here, a tightening in the eyes there. It’s clear the champion, while internationally loved, is less favored locally. If not for her skill, I have a feeling they’d sideline her even further.
Bipasha, consummate politician that she is, cuts in. “The champion is a gift to all of us, as is Mr. Fang.”
No one contradicts her of course—it’d be impolite, no matter what they might think. I’m still curious about the presence of the kid in the station. It’s not as if he’s a settlement owner. If he was, I’d know, having spent some time memorizing the faces of everyone involved.
“Any idea about the kid?”
“You do realize he’s not much younger than you?” Ali retorts. “I got nothing. Probably wanted to go on a holiday.”
“It sure is pretty up here.” I acknowledge Ali’s point, but I don’t agree. There’s no way his presence up here is innocent.
After the stilted introductions, we switch topics to the recent attacks. Interestingly enough, China—or what we’re calling China anyway, since its borders have changed drastically post-apocalypse—only had to deal with a single attack in the last few days. Still, the recent widespread attacks and the desperate battles after years of relative quiet is a topic of interest for everyone.
It’s only when the conversation lags again that I bring up my reason for coming over.
“I just wanted to check we are settled for the upcoming vote?” I say to Bipasha. I wish I had a better, less blunt way of segueing into this, but… well, I don’t.
Bipasha winces ever so slightly, the movement more of a twitch of the eyes, but I ignore it. Lei visibly smirks, but the various settlement owners are quick to voice their support. I can’t help but feel a little nervous about them. Unlike many others, we don’t have a Contract or any official agreement with the Chinese. Just a guarantee from Bipasha. It’s a tad late to be worrying about it, but things have been hectic. I console myself with the knowledge her deal is similar to Roxley’s.
“Our votes are with Ms. Chowdury,” the Chinese settlement owners reassure me.
Even Bipasha brightens slightly, happy to reassure me she has gotten guarantees from her side of the table. I restrain from asking her to list everyone, mostly because it’d be rude and counterproductive.
Eventually, I take my leave and find a corner near the buffet table. In some ways, I’d prefer to be down there fighting than doing all this. But my new Skills are for more than just show. And so, I open my eyes and let Society’s Web appear.
Most, if not all, the threads are what I expect. In time, with more usage, I’ve learned to discard and filter out the tiny threads which detail the shallowest of connections between individuals. If I didn’t, in a room filled with settlement owners, I wouldn’t be able to see anything at all. Even now, it’s a staggering maze of threads which cluster around the various settlement owners to others of their kind or those below. It’s one reason I haven’t been using it much within this room and only resorted to it now when I have a quiet moment.
So.
It’s as I guessed—Fang Lei is more than a treasured student or someone on a vacation. The threads between him and the other Chinese settlement owners are heavy and almost exclusively one-sided. There’s an even heavier thread from Fang Lei downward, one which implies a more powerful hidden benefactor on Earth. Whoever it is, the hidden power is neither a settlement owner nor present. Someone else who does not like the limelight.
There’s another heavy thread, one which looks similar to Fang Lei’s, which emerges from Bipasha and heads in the same direction. It’s significantly thicker than any thread between Bipasha and the other settlement owners, though the thread connecting Bipasha and Fang Lei is interesting. I spend a little time touching each of the threads, finding heavy threads of obligation, duty, and contracts within, as well as a rather interesting amount of disdain. Mostly from Fang Lei toward everyone else.
I purse my lips in thought then turn away, staring at Roxley. Once again, I purposely ignore the heavy thread that runs between the two of us and instead concentrate of the ones surrounding the Truinnar. Nothing seems untoward there. Most of the threads speak of deep contracts and obligations between the Truinnar and others. There’s a particularly thick thread which shoots off into space which I linger over, “tasting” the emotions and depth, noting the respect, vigilance, pensiveness, and apprehension surrounding the thread.
I let the thread go and move on, scanning individuals, “tasting” their threads and the webs which form between them and others before moving on. Once again, I feel somewhat stifled by the lack of detailed information, but it is what it is.
“Mr. Lee.” Bhale, with his entourage, appears before me.
There’s no trace of the friendliness and openness the Movana showed when we first met. Instead it has been replaced with a layer of coldness and professionalism. By his side, Sishin is much more direct as he glowers at me. We met once more after Prague, this time with Sishin receiving the shorter end of the stick. I’d managed to kick his and his team’s ass—with the help of a local Advanced Combat team—before the Movana pulled out. That Sishin left a half dozen corpses behind was just one of the vagaries of war. Somehow, I don’t think the thought is comforting for the elf.
I quickly do an assessment of the threads leading from them to me and find they are no larger or brighter than before. Other than a layer of hostility in most, there’s little change—besides the one from Sishin, and his is no surprise. It’s not as if we’ve had a lot of direct contact.
“Gentlemen,” I say with an inclination of my head.
“Your men did very well. I must admit, we were surprised at the effectiveness of the defense and their combat prowess,” Bhale says.
“It happens when you try to kick people out of their homes after an apocalypse,” I say softly. “What you’re facing now are the survivors.”
“Yes. Still, you must know we have expanded our holdings,” Bhale says.
I snort. Yes. Mostly by taking our cities and one allied independent city. Which reminds me… “Why not just hit the Truinnar? If you had managed to reduce their votes and increase yours, you’d have narrowed the gap.”
Sishin snorts and I look at the sleeveless Movana. Since Bhale hesitates to answer me, Sishin decides to do so. “And start a Galactic war? While this might be a Dungeon World, an
attack on the bond-breakers would be a direct provocation. Even if we didn’t start a war, we’d have to pay significant reparations.”
I grunt, crossing my arms. Great. The Truinnar and Movana are like the US and Russia with us poor humans and any non-allied settlements the countries they’re happy to wage proxy wars in. But it is a good reminder that as much as Roxley might be friendly, the Galactics are neither good nor bad—just nations looking out for their best interests.
“We are here to ask you, once again, to reconsider your stance,” Bhale says. “You ally your Earth with forces you do not comprehend. You meddle in affairs even Legends fear to casually involve themselves in. You are children running alongside the adults during a dance, deluding yourself into thinking you are dancing but are actually stumbling along, making a fool of yourself.”
“Whoa. Way to be subtle there,” Ali says with a snort.
“Subtle has not worked,” Bhale says with a sniff. “You rush matters too much. In a few years, you might achieve what you seek without allying with those you should not.”
“Really?” I say, stepping closer. The others tense up, but I ignore them as I lower my voice. “Because the way I run the math, the longer we wait, the less chance we have. People like you and the Galactics, the corporations and the Fist, are all going to chip away at our settlements. Divvying it up. Seems like the longer we wait, the more chance more of your Master Classers arrive.”
“It is a possibility. But better to lose your chance than commit your world to politics you do not understand. The Pegasus which flies too high will burn its wings off,” Bhale says.
“That’s not…” I shake my head. Actually, maybe it is how the story goes for them. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a little too late for us to change.”