Before any of the assembled rulers could react, Keetsie-Myau shuddered:
“I’ll have a talk with Leng Gnat! In one way or another, he is my marriage dance partner. Furthermore, I publicly promised him a personal meeting, which I still owe him. I say this is the perfect time for me to make good!”
Chapter One. In an Alien Galaxy
“AYUKH, YOU RESET only your age, not your proficiency and experience! You are still one of the greatest Navigators of modern times! What do you mean you ‘don’t know where we are?!’“
Sure, I was being pushy and demanding that my underling perform his duties — that was exactly how, to my eye, a true captain should have been behaving under such difficult circumstances. But it pained me to look at Ayukh. The rejuvenated Geckho’s expression was both impotent and desperate:
“But Leng Gnat, there’s nothing I can do! The on-board navigation system crashes when attempting to determine our coordinates!”
I winced involuntarily. My frigate’s navigation system was crashing? That was the last thing I needed... On top of the extensive damage sustained by the hull, the pressure loss in three sectors, the malfunctioning hyperspace drive, two busted laser cannons and the death of five crew members, we were now having problems with the navigation programs? Well, maybe we could fix the computer glitch then. Reboot the system, reinstall some programs or something... I asked the Navigator what the instructions said to do in this type of situation.
“Well you see, captain...” the Geckho inhaled a bit more air, fell silent and decisively squeezed out: “this scenario is not covered in the instructions! The navigation system tries all possible methods of determining coordinates at the same time. From sending basic long-distance queries to nearby beacons to estimating gravitational displacement, to computing the nearest spatial extrema and neutrino stream vectors. And the first thing it does is to evaluate all visible stars for unique characteristics in terms of light spectrum, class and mass and compares that with reference data! And none of the hundreds of thousands of visible stars,” Ayukh said, pointing his furry clawed paw at the screen, “can be found in the Geckho navigation reference guide! Even the data we uploaded from the more complete Meleyephatian maps is no help! I even tried using quasar vectors, although that is considered an extremely inaccurate and outdated method of space navigation. And the result it generated was not the least bit comforting. We must be very far from known space, and most likely are in a different galaxy altogether!!!”
The Geckho basically shouted the last part, and I could hear distinct notes of panic in my senior officer’s voice. After the Navigator’s explanation, I must admit, I somewhat lost courage. With my astonishing ability to land myself in all kinds of hot water, I was probably the only captain working who could step in a pile of shit this deep: to be in a different galaxy on a starship with no hyperspace drive! Although... even if my frigate’s hyperdrive was repairable, what good did that do us now? If traveling to a distant star within our same galaxy could take years, then returning home from a different galaxy altogether would take thousands, and maybe even millions of years! At least if things got truly dire, we could have the whole crew die and come back at our respawn point on Kasti-Utsh III. But we would be without the magnificent twinbody frigate and the invaluable mobile laboratory. We stood to lose everything, crushing all our hopes and dreams. And I risked a severe blow to my Authority and reputation as a lucky captain as well...
No, I needed to try something else — to figure out the hardware on the mobile laboratory that just warped us into this galaxy, study the Relict navigation maps and coordinate system, then calculate a jump back. Or just tell the laboratory’s security system to bring Tamara the Paladin somewhere close enough to a Geckho or Miyelonian station for us to get there using our surviving main and maneuver thrusters. However, the problem was that I had not been in contact with the station since the jump, and it would not respond to any of my attempts to reestablish contact.
Dmitry Zheltov, who I’d sent to the medical bay, returned to the bridge — our main Starship Pilot’s left shoulder was badly injured and, after I ran a scan on him, I started to suspect a fracture. But Dmitry stubbornly denied it — he said it was a just a little sore and would get better on its own. But based on the sling, my suspicion was on the mark.
“You were right captain, it’s fractured,” Dmitry told me with an embarrassed smile. “Our Medic Mauu-La ran a quick screen, injected healing nanites into my forearm and pushed me out the door saying to be cautious with my arm for the next three days. I am actually surprised the Medic treated me though. He’s very busy with the operation on our Miyelonian Translator. And it looks to be a complicated one, because he even took a Kirsan repair bot as an assistant. Gerd Ayni has been seriously wounded. I even heard a ghastly utterance to the Kirsan: ‘if we can’t get her vein’s working again, we’ll have to amputate both arms.’“
Yes, I knew the orange Miyelonian beauty had been very badly injured — after her sector was damaged in an explosion and lost pressure, she was carried out by Gerd Mauu-La himself. Amputating both arms... The thought made my skin crawl... If the healer’s frightening diagnosis were accurate, in Ayni’s place I’d prefer to be reborn in a healthy body at my respawn point on Kasti-Utsh III. By the way... I should send instructions to my four crew members waiting there. My business partner Gerd Uline Tar the Trader, Gerd T’yu-Pan the Shocktroop, Timka-Vu and Kisly the Machinegunners, and Avan Toi the Supercargo all perished in the space battle with the Meleyephatian flotilla and would have respawned on the Miyelonian space station by now. I turned to the Navigator, who was still pulling his fur out and pronounced in a clear commanding voice:
“Ayukh, quit your whining. Get yourself together and get back to work! Exit into the real world and get in touch with my first mate. Tell Uline Tar that she and the other respawned crew members should get on the next freight-passenger Shiamiru bound for Earth. She needs to get ready for her wedding there, and our two new interceptors there have to be fixed up and processed by the local spaceport. And anyway, why should she be wasting time puttering around on a Miyelonian station? We won’t be going back to the Kasti-Utsh system. We’ll be making straight for Earth... If of course, we can figure out how to get there...” I said the last part extremely quietly, more to myself so the other players on the captain’s bridge couldn’t hear.
Authority increased to 84!
Yes, I was making all the right moves! My team still believed in their captain and were counting on me to get them out of this debacle without having to do something as unpleasant as committing suicide to get back to the known part of the Universe. I was somewhat encouraged and used the radio to get in touch with our Engineer Orun Va-Mart who was leading the first repair brigade of eight players currently stomping around like elephants in spacesuits on the outside of the frigate. I was able to watch them from the cameras of the two Small Guard Drones, which were zooming around in the “bubble” under the laboratory’s forcefield.
The second brigade was led by Princess Gerd Minn-O La-Fin, and its objective was to clear debris from the damaged corridor near the cargo hold and make sure all residential berths were again filled with breathable atmosphere. And among the second repair brigade workers I had included Nefertiti. Yes! I was surprised to see it, but the NPC Dryad had not disappeared from the ship after the death of her husband Kisly the Machinegunner and, as if nothing had happened, at the very least for now, was continuing to exist independently of him. I had one possible explanation for the phenomenon, but I was in no rush to tell the others.
Orun Va-Mart answered instantly as if he was doing nothing but awaiting my call:
“Captain, our examination of the frigate’s hull has identified several breaches. So far, we’ve counted eight holes, all in the right fuselage. That is not counting the dislodged cargo hold and half of the right stabilizer. It will be possible to fix them with sealant, and we’re already doing so. But there aren’t enough tiles to repair the whole hull. I�
�ve already done the math. And the cargo hold will have to be fully removed — it’s nothing but a mess of twisted metal and not fit for further use.”
“Uh...” I decided to clarify an important aspect. “Will that throw our balance off, and make it so we can’t land on any planet with an atmosphere?”
The engineer’s bitter chuckle rang in my headphones:
“Captain, with such severe damage to the fuselage and missing stabilizers, you can forget about landing on any planets for the time being. Our bigger concern is getting the starship even slightly flyable...”
“I see,” I cut off the Engineer mid-sentence, not letting him spoil the mood of everyone listening to the common channel. “Is the shuttle in the hangar in good shape? I am planning to fly to the Relict laboratory. I need to go check things out over there.”
“The shuttle is fine,” Orun Va-Mart gave me hope, “but the station is just sixty-eight yards away. You could just ride a levitator or even take a jetpack.”
The Miyelonian was obviously using different numbers and units, but the game system was translating everything for me into units more familiar to the human ear. I just couldn’t get used to the amusing “autotranslations.” Every time they rang hollow. It was just so awkward to hear an alien using terrestrial units. In any case, the ancient laboratory was at an arm’s reach, and my highest priority mission was simply to visit the ancient site and figuring out how it ran — our chances of returning home were directly dependent on that.
Actually no... I did have one more important mission than visiting the ancient laboratory: to choose three new skills for my Gnat, given my character had just hit level one hundred. I opened the game menu and navigated to my statistics:
Leng Gnat. Human. Relict Faction.
Level-100 Listener
Statistics:
Strength
14
Agility
18
Intelligence
33 + 5
Perception
29 + 2
Constitution
17
Luck modifier
+3
Drones
2 of 3
Attention!!! You are entitled to a new Large Drone since yours was destroyed
Parameters:
Hitpoints
2178 of 2244
Endurance points
1305 of 1639
Magic points
1380 of 2061
Carrying capacity
62 lbs.
Fame
92
Authority
84
Skills:
Electronics
94
Scanning
67
Cartography
84
Astrolinguistics
100 * First specialization taken
Rifles
66
Mineralogy
60
Medium Armor
86
Eagle Eye
95
Sharpshooter
51
Targeting
53
Danger Sense
89
Psionic
110 * First specialization taken
Mental Fortitude
109 * First specialization taken
Machine Control
105 * First specialization taken
Mysticism
55
Attention!!! You have three unspent skill points.
Attention!!! You may learn three new skills.
I TOOK IN THE FACT that I could get a new Large Relict Guard Drone to replace the one destroyed in battle with the Meleyephatian flotilla, although I didn’t yet understand how or where to place the order. But as for the first of the possible new skills, I had made up my mind a while ago: Telekinesis! A very useful ability for a magically endowed character, it allowed distant objects to be moved around at the expense of Magic Points. How many times had I run a scan and seen on the mini-map some lever or switch I needed to flip on the other side of a wall or other insurmountable obstacle, and not been able to do anything? Now, tasks like that would be a cinch!
You have taken the skill Telekinesis level 1.
Great! As a test, I tried to remotely turn on the tablet the Navigator had left on his desk when he left the game into the real world. Okay, that worked! Now to unscrew the seat of the unsuspecting copilot. Oh, what a surprised and even frightened face on San-Doon! Shouldn’t have been snoozing on the job!
Telekinesis skill increased to level two!
Yes, the first levels of all skills were quite easy to get. I’d have to work on Telekinesis today and get it up to ten at least, which would be no problem if I made active use of it. For the second of three possible skills then I chose Training:
Training. This skill gives accelerated experience gain for any action a character performs (+1% experience received for every skill level). Minimum statistics: Intelligence 20, Perception 15.
Some might object and ask why I was filling an invaluable slot with a skill that did nothing on its own and added no new abilities to my character. Still, be that as it may, something Meleyephatian Gunner Gerd Eeeezzz 777 said disturbed me and made me seriously think. Apparently, high-level players had a very hard time progressing after a certain point. Wasting two to three years of my life to get from, let’s say, 190 to 191... that would be unbearably long. And if I died even once in that time, I’d have to start over again from zero.
That was what made me deliberately and consciously choose the Training skill for my Leng Gnat. Yes, one might think at level one hundred I was nowhere near a beginner in this game and that, ideally, I should have taken the skill much earlier — way back at my Gnat’s first few levels. And maybe that was so. But I had different priorities and objectives back then, and levels were coming fairly quickly, without much additional effort or skill. But by level one hundred, the situation had become completely different and every new level was coming harder and harder. I was planning my character several years into the future and I needed to ensure constant forward motion throughout that time.
You have taken the skill Training level 1.
And as for the last skill, I wasn’t yet sure. There were lots of interesting possibilities. I’d have to weigh and calculate every possible consequence of my varied options. But then something happened that interrupted my calm contemplation.
The big furry Geckho Ayukh, frozen motionless in the Navigator’s seat... suddenly disappeared! The surprise even made me shudder. What the heck?! This is open space, a dangerous red zone even inside the spaceship, and avatars should not be disappearing when their players exit into the real world. Or... was this no longer a red zone? When I opened the game interface options, I did in fact discover that the category of this location had been changed to green, for safe! I didn’t understand what could have caused that, but other consequences of that change had already started rolling in. Our Medic’s voice, alarmed and even terrified, rang out over the loudspeaker:
“Captain, my patient has disappeared right off the operating table! I wasn’t done with her yet!” Gerd Mauu-La Mya-Ssa was in a near-panic.
“Say, Gerd Mauu-La, was Ayni in the game or had she exited into the real?” I clarified. And the healer answered that, back at the very beginning of the operation, he gave the woman leave into the real world — her game avatar should have stayed in the game regardless, while it would be both boring and senseless for a living player to spend an ummi lying on an operating table.
“I see. The game zone just changed to green. That’s why your patient’s body disappeared.”
“That is very, very bad!” the Medic was horrified. “Her body was hooked up to an artificial breathing apparatus, her chest was open, and several of her large veins and arteries had medical clamps on them. I’m afraid Gerd Ayni might not survive when she comes back into the game...”
My discussion with the Medic was interrupted by a surprised cry from Space Commando Eduard
Boyko, who was among those working on the frigate hull in space:
“Captain! The Relict laboratory is opening!”
Every player on the bridge nestled up close to their monitors, which were showing video feeds from the frigate’s external cameras and the two Small Relict Guard Drones. And as a matter of fact, something strange was happening to the station: in the middle, very widest section, a few metal hull panels were coming apart to reveal seven apertures each five feet in diameter. From those seven deep tunnels there emerged long telescopic antennae-like outgrowths running in different directions. After that, the whole surface, which so recently seemed to be a monolithic thousand-foot-long spindle, went into motion. And all over the station, hull panels started spinning around on their axes, flipping color from silver to black.
“What is happening?” I asked the security system, not particularly expecting a response because the station had been flatly ignoring me for the last twenty minutes.
But this time I did get an answer, and it was fairly detailed. A few columns of text ran before my eyes:
“Listener, transport has been completed successfully and was not traced by the enemy’s automated security systems. Our new location has been deemed safe. Station exiting prolonged (here was a symbol I wasn’t familiar with, maybe ‘conservation’ or ‘dormancy’) mode and returning to operation. Area beneath forcefield filling with (here another incomprehensible word, but the meaning was ‘breathable’) air. Staff temporal capsule shutdown procedure initiated. Listener, prepare to appear before the station director!”
Aces High (Reality Benders Book #6) LitRPG Series Page 2