A Check for a Billion

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “Don’t panic. Snake, make a dummy marble slab. Here are the external dimensions — your objective is to make space in the slab to fit one Tryd in an armor suit.”

  “A Trojan horse?” Eunice’s face brightened. My wife understood what I had in mind.

  “More like a Trojan slab. Works just like a Trojan horse but, well, it’s a slab.”

  The preparations took us a long time, though the main difficulty was not the equipment. The problem was the marble. It turned out to be impossible to buy it — the stone was utilized so little in-game that no one sold it on Belket. So we had to order it — interstellar express — which meant that the piece of stone came out pretty pricey.

  We lost another couple hours on routing a hollow compartment into the slab, and then at last we crossed all our limbs for good luck and headed for the Shurtan system.

  “We’re in position. I have deployed our reflectors,” said Brainiac and Warlock’s bridge deck plunged into a deep gloom illuminated only by several screens. Any and all other devices that could betray us had been turned off.

  “I don’t think they can see us,” I remarked a couple of minutes later, never taking my eyes off the passive scan monitor. The Zatrathi did not react to our appearance and went on rushing around their system with the chaotic purposefulness of ants.

  “Sit her down here,” ordered Tryd and pointed his finger at a point on the map. “We’ll go on foot from there.”

  No one bothered arguing with the pirate, not even Brainiac. We landed on the airless rock without any problems and emerged to the surface about ten kilometers from the quarry. I cast a doubtful look at the hoverboard I had bought for the operation. It was the standard means for conveying players along the surface of a planet, yet I’d never used one before. I am neither a surfer nor a skater. And in general, I had little to no idea how to properly move on this thing. All my attempts to use it inside the ship ended with me running into the walls — to the Delvian’s ridicule. This could turn out to be a problem.

  “Don’t fall now, small fry.” Tryd didn’t bother hiding his condescension as he tethered my board to his. I climbed up on it, fixed my armor suit into place and picked up an empty container with my manipulator. Tryd looked questioningly at Eunice, who hopped up on her hoverboard with enviable ease and casually bragged:

  “I was top of my class in flying this thing.”

  “Turn on your cloak,” grumbled Tryd, tossing a reflecting cape over himself. The pirate did not vanish completely, but one would have to look at him directly to notice him. The hoverboard under me jerked and we rushed forward. A lump formed in my throat, forcing me to swallow. Strange. I was used to flying with high Gs, so I should have been immune to motion sickness, yet the system had different ideas and kept burdening me with various debuffs.

  “We’re in position.” Tryd lowered his hoverboard to the ground and a countdown timer appeared in front of my eyes. Three minutes of disorientation.

  “Hilvar won’t be happy that one of his scallywags is incapable of raiding on land,” the pirate concluded, helping me change the medunit in my suit. I felt relief almost instantly. “You chose the wrong mentor, Surgeon.”

  “You are the second person to tell me so,” I agreed, catching my breath. “I don’t remember anything like this before. But what does Hilvar have to do with it?”

  “His pirates are all landlubbers. You are more cut out to be a space pirate. That much is clear. That one there,” he indicated Eunice, “she’s a natural landlubber. Nurse hasn’t made her choice yet. You have. Your way lies with the Corsican. Hilvar won’t be able to teach you.”

  This was both unexpected and unpleasant news. When had I strayed from my chosen path? Tryd ignored my question, pointing to the container:

  “Let’s get down to business now. Help me get in.”

  We were about a hundred meters from the area where the marble was being loaded on the transports. A tall cliff separated us from the Zatrathi, but even that wasn’t enough to muffle the rumble of the extraction and processing operations going on nearby. The earth shook and I had to cut my external microphones to a minimum so as not to go deaf. A recon drone sent out by Brainiac showed that there were no living Zatrathi around us. The process was automated, which fit our plans perfectly.

  Getting onto the transport turned out to be a cinch. Waiting until the next ship was half full, we threw the dummy slab with Tryd in it onto the conveyor belt. The Zatrathi systems paid no attention to the extra slab and loaded it aboard. Invisible to the surveillance cameras, we followed it into the hold and, after just a couple of minutes, the transport’s hull shuddered as its engines turned on. The first part of the plan was executed so perfectly that I wasn’t even surprised to hear Brainiac’s warning:

  “Captain! There’s a problem!”

  “Have we been detected?” Eunice asked.

  “Not exactly. Not yet. Better see for yourself. I’ll display it on your screens.”

  Tryd’s litany of expletives was like a triumphal march, a fanfare to which the battle fleet of the Anorxian Empire entered the Shurtan system. My initial hope that they had come in peace was quickly obliterated by the fire that began pouring from the newcomers. One by one, the Zatrathi ships began bursting into fireballs, unable to withstand the onslaught of four Grand Arbiters. The synthoids had approached their raid into the depths of Zatrathi territory methodically, pulling their defensive ships from several planets at once for the purpose.

  “Brainiac, what’s our ETA to the planet?” I began worrying once I saw the speed with which the Zatrathi forces were being wiped out. The Anorxians were destroying the fighters and frigates scrambling to defend but also the transports and harvesters that came across their path.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Damn, we won’t make it…We need to somehow let the Anorxians know that we are here!”

  “Belay that!” Tryd commanded from inside the slab. “There’s no use. These are renegades. They won’t talk. They’re the same ones that captured our base.”

  Indeed, the insignia of the robot empire on the Arbiter closest to us had been crudely painted over.

  The Zatrathi finally reacted in full force to the attack. Both cruisers disengaged from the flying fortress — and then all my screens went out, plunging me into darkness. My armor suit had shut off.

  “Brainiac?!” Lumara’s present did its job, allowing me to reconnect with my ship.

  “This is really something, Cap’n!” the snake replied instead of the computer. “The Anorxians have detonated a giant EM bomb in the system. An excellent solution! We’ll need to speak to Hansa about this device!”

  ‘Sure we will,’ I said to myself as I swapped powercells. My new armor suit had been designed with all the latest ergonomic features. It was comfortable, cozy, secure and, most importantly, it was possible to change powercells from the inside. Perfect for dealing with EM traps.

  “Eunice?”

  “I’ll be up in five seconds.”

  “Brainiac what’s the status in the system?”

  “The smaller ships are all disabled. Only a flying fortress and two cruisers remain. Ah! Here comes the Zatrathi reply!”

  As my screens came back on, I saw a pillar of plasma erupt from the flying fortress’s main cannon. It rushed through the vacuum in a direct line to the Arbiter and another sun appeared in the system. The enormous guardian ship, the pride of Galactogon’s locals, burst at its seams and vanished.

  Despite the inertial dampeners, the blast wave knocked us over and pressed me into the hull. The transport began to spin at an incredible speed, generating artificial gravity, but apart from feeling a bit more sluggish, I had no difficulty coping with the force. Nothing was spinning within our own coordinate system.

  “Brainiac, can you pick us up?”

  “Me?! No, Captain, I can’t risk joining you!”

  The Anorxians did not wait for the flying fortress to reload and scrambled their squadrons. The system again plunged into chao
s. And even though the Zatrathi maintained control in the midst of this jumble of ships, I couldn’t help but start feeling a headache coming on. Perhaps deciding that the chaos wasn’t bad enough, the Zatrathi scrambled their reinforcements too. From Warlock’s perspective, the system turned into one big bright point.

  “Eunice, cut the bulkhead to the bridge!” I ordered, since the girl was closer the bridge deck than me. “Brainiac, can we pilot this tub?”

  “I will need to analyze the control systems,” the computer answered vaguely, unwilling to promise anything definite.

  “I don’t understand, small fry, is anyone going to pull me out of this coffin?” Tryd’s terrible roar reminded us of our passenger. I had figured that the EM blast would disable his cybernetics, but the pirate was tougher than that. Activating my blasters, I punched a hole in the transport’s hull and began to push the slabs out into space, at last freeing the slab with the Delvian. In the process, I took one peek at what was going on out in space and immediately regretted it. We were spinning incredibly fast.

  “Ready!” The sparks ceased and Eunice knocked out the bulkhead to the bridge with a kick. Reaching the pilot’s console, my wife said: “Nothing! All systems are down!”

  “What do they teach young pirates these days?” grumbled Tryd, climbing out of his slab. “Clear this deck, scallywag. The last thing we need are stones flying at us as we try to land. Nurse, get away from there! There is only room for one.”

  Eunice climbed back to me in the hold, obediently giving way to the pirate. He began to yank out the panel, wires and all, trying to get to the power plant.

  “Orbship computer, are you tracking our flight path? Where are we falling?”

  “Erm…I don’t understand the question.”

  “You’re just as stupid as your captain. I am asking you where we are headed — are we leaving the system or heading for its center?”

  “A second, please.” Brainiac was obviously offended. “The explosion has accelerated you in the direction of the sun. You should pass the planet Shurtan at a distance…”

  “Be quiet,” Tryd cut him off. “How much elo do you have on you?”

  “Forty powercells,” I replied, consulting with Eunice.

  “Not enough…Okay, I’ll use my own. Give me half of what you have! Look alive, we have very little time!”

  “Tryd, why do you think the Anorxians are here so deep in Zatrathi territory?” Eunice wondered as she helped the pirate collect the elo. She had managed to burrow her way to the transport’s reactor and was now almost up to her waist in the hole she had made in the control console.

  “They’ve come to liberate the base,” muttered the fox in response, interrupting his litany of curses in all the languages he knew.

  “Why?” Eunice continued to pry, but he did not answer. It was perfectly clear that the Anorxians needed the base exactly for the same reason that the Delvian needed it.

  “Tryd what are the Anorxians looking for at the base?” I repeated the question. “I’d rather not get involved in someone else’s business.”

  Suddenly the dashboard began to blink — the old fox had restored our power. Grunting, he climbed out and saw two silhouettes frozen in the opening.

  “Tryd?!”

  “What?!” snapped the pirate, slumping into the only seat on board. “They’re renegades! They’ve freed themselves of the main Anorxian CPU and Motherboard so if they get hurt, the Anorxians will only be happy.”

  “Tryd, what do you need at that base?” I wasn’t about to give up and activated my blasters. “I’ll blast you here and now if you don’t start talking. What the hell do you need that planet for?”

  The Delvian’s muzzle twisted with anger and with one abrupt dash he appeared beside me. Our eyes locked.

  “I’ll tear you in half with my bare paws, you barnacle!” the pirate growled, as the ship shook violently around us.

  “The Anorxians have noticed that your power has been restored,” announced Brainiac. “You have three fighters on your tail.”

  Tryd refused to look away. I wasn’t about to give up myself and I was really getting close to killing the pirate if he refused to answer. I can always get the Lora some other way. Even if I had to deal with the Corsican to do it. Maybe this NPC could read my mind because he finally growled:

  “Arr! They need Prince Northbridge! A chipset that we stole many years ago from the Anorxian Motherboard!”

  I stepped back, uncocking my blasters. It was odd that Tryd was so worked up over some device.

  “Stan what is the Northbridge and what does it have to do with the Anorxians?”

  There was no reply. I looked with surprise from Tryd — who had gone back to the pilot’s seat and was now disengaging the autopilot — to my PDA. My signal was fine and I had a connection.

  “Stan, can you hear me?”

  Silence. Our transport shuddered from another hit, which left a neat round hole in our hull.

  “Hold on to your skivvies, mollusks. These be rough waters!”

  We grabbed onto the handrails. I kept trying to reach Stan, but my smart home did not reply and a few moments later, I had more important problems to deal with. Everything turned upside down.

  Tryd banked sharply entering Shurtan’s gravity well. The pirate had been right about the marble slabs — if we hadn’t dumped them, we would have been crushed at this point. We clung to our handholds as tightly as we could, activating our suits’ magnets to help. Once again a lump formed in my throat and the pirate’s laughter sounded in my headphones. He was shouting some kind of battle cry:

  “Merkata da Kula!”

  The constant change of direction mixed with weightlessness started getting to me. Another restorative injection dispelled the ‘nausea’ debuff. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down. If I was powerless to do anything at the moment, I needed to focus on surviving.

  “We’re about to take a hit! Brace for impact!” Tryd warned and a few seconds later the transport ceased to exist. The terrible blow almost tore my hands off. The lower part of the ship sheared off as if cut by a knife. The floor collapsed after it and we were left dangling, hanging on by our hands. Mountains and black smoke rushed under our feet, mingled with sparks from our burning ship.

  “On the count of three!” Tryd peeked out from a hole in the partition, eyeing up the scene. “One! Two! Jump!”

  The pirate dived down through clouds of smoke. I didn’t need to be invited twice — unclenching my hands, I flew behind Tryd. Some part of the ship collided with my leg. It didn’t hurt me, but it did send me spinning like a propeller, completely disorienting me.

  “Brainiac, take control of my armor suit! Set me down next to Tryd!”

  “Me too!” I heard Eunice add.

  “Executing!” replied our savior instantly. I stopped spinning and my speed began dropping until Eunice and I settled quite calmly next to the pirate.

  “And these slugs call themselves pirates,” remarked Tryd scornfully, watching us fall to the surface beside him.

  Several Anorxian fighters screamed by overhead, chasing the smoking transport. The robots had not noticed our jump. A loud explosion sounded somewhere in the distance. The transport had been destroyed.

  “What are you standing there for?” Tryd checked his map and a grimace crept over his muzzle. Pulling out another hoverboard, he tossed me the end of a towline: “The base is 1500 clicks from here. We have to get moving. Our time is running out!”

  At this moment, something flashed over our heads, and a Zatrathi cruiser began to fall onto the planet. It was falling far away from us, so it was safe to enjoy the spectacle. The Anorxians were going all out. It seems that they really needed this Northbridge thingy. After making another call to Stan, I began to grow anxious. Once again there had been no answer. Perched on my hoverboard, holding the towing rope, I prepared for the long journey — when my PDA came alive with an incoming call. I picked it up as quickly as I could:

  “Good afternoon,
Mr. Panzer. My name is Martin Sherper, Senior Detective. Sorry to bother you in the hospital and interrupt your gameplay, but I do have to speak with you. Should I wait for you in a special location or will we be able to talk right now?”

  “Now’s good. Has something happened?”

  “Yes. I have some bad news. Three hours ago, your house was blown up. Unfortunately, there are several casualties from the explosion.”

  Chapter Eight

  It all happened in broad daylight. Three men in camouflage and black balaclavas flew up to my house on speeders, placed small devices all around its perimeter and blew my barely rebuilt home into a huge pit. The police even had to turn to the military for help because they could not independently identify the type of explosives used. Eyewitnesses noted that there was neither a blast wave, nor a roar, nor any damage to the neighboring properties. Simply, in the blink of an eye, a large fireball destroyed the structure of wood and drywall. The casualties were a couple of technicians who were just then completing the installation of a video surveillance system. Upon being turned on, all that the cameras had time to record was the appearance of the terrorists and their operation. The whole process took about five minutes and then the recording, which was streamed to the third-party servers of the security company, ended. In a strange coincidence, all nearby cameras on our streets and the surrounding blocks had been turned off for a half hour. Both the police and the military were inclined to think that this was the work of professionals from the special forces. All they could do was guess where and when I had come across their radar, given that I had been in the hospital for quite a while. One of their theories was that this was somehow related to Constantine, but I did not believe this.