《White Sun of Pandora (Only psychos on Pandora)》


 Welcome to Pandora!

    This sucks... Literally everything hurts, and in different ways too.


    I struggled to open my eyes... correction. One eye. The other still wouldn''t open, but before I could get scared - more scared than I already was - I realized it was closed with some kind of shit.


    One eye would suffice for now, I decided. Take a look around.


    I was in some kind of earthen basement. Oddly enough, despite the pitch darkness, I could see pretty well.


    It made me confused for a moment, but I could put that strangeness aside for later. There were more important matters at hand.


    I was wearing some sort of... A spacesuit? Armor? Some sort of ultra-high-tech armor with additional attachments, perhaps.


    The problem, though, is that some of the armor plates were damaged or missing altogether, these very attachments were trashed, and I was covered in... it was definitely blood. Dried. I''ve obviously been in some serious combat.


    Except I''m not in the military. I''m a freelance programmer.


    What''s the last thing I remember? I went to apply for a job as a beta tester and debugger. Talked to some guy on a forum about games, and he ended up giving me a job. Then... Shit. My head hurt.


    I grimaced and squeezed my eyes shut; the pain began to subside.


    The rest of my body did too, and the weakness was slowly receding. Not quite, but enough that I could try to stand up, and even successfully.


    The cellar I was in revealed a couple of odd-looking carcasses on hooks - the thought of food made me sick - a couple of closed crates, and some obscure parts and scrap metal. After a couple minutes I found what I was interested in: the hatch cover. Instead of a ladder, it was just the same crates.


    Raising my hand to the hatch, I hesitated. With all this blood, it was possible that there would be unfriendly company waiting for me at the top. It was also quite possible that it would be locked - maybe I''d just been beaten up and dumped here? But that wouldn''t explain the strange armor... Nor the night vision.


    In any case, I put my ear to the lid and tried to listen.


    The sound of the wind. And... This is all.


    After hesitating, I pressed the lid.


    It was unlocked and flipped open easily. I clung to the edge and was able to climb out of the cellar with surprising ease.


    I saw the ruins before me. I was in a dilapidated house, and behind the missing wall I could see another house in a bad condition.


    And on the dry gray earth lay bodies.


    Strangely, unlike me, they were dressed in ordinary clothes.


    Even stranger, I was less nauseous than I had been at the thought of food.


    I looked up at the night sky clearly visible through the missing part of the roof. And at the huge, completely unearthly moon.


    How far from Kansas have you traveled, Ellie...?


    I got another pain in my head, and--


    - So you''ve decided to go freelance? - Slavik asked.


    - Well, officially I''m exploring new markets, - I answered. - The coprorations don''t have to spend money on a professional scout, and they promise to pay me a penny. Plus I can officially call myself a middleman and trade our products. And I don''t have to worry about being considered a deserter.


    - I see, - grinned Ozhogov. - You managed to get out of it well. And what are you planning, where are you going to go?


    - Have you heard about Pandora? - I answered with a question.


    - That''s where there''s all the fuss about the Vault? - I nodded. - You''re going to chase a fairy tale, hoping for a big score? I didn''t expect that from you.


    - Nah - I shook my head negatively. - Even if it exists, how am I going to find it, I''m not an archaeologist. I have a different calculation. There''ll be plenty of adventurers for this story about the Vault - they already are - so the services of professionals will be in demand there. Someone to build - many of them will quit and settle down - someone to service the equipment... You know.


    Slavik nodded and lit a cigarette from his gun.


    - It''s a big risk, but it can burn out, - he said. - Historically, many people have risen that way. But it''ll be hot. Bandits, all sorts of scum... You''ll have to shoot anyway.


    I shrugged.


    - Not as much as under Vladoff''s wing. And it''s easier to deal with bandits than with fighters-corps.


    Slavik nodded in agreement.


    - But you''ll still need a good gun. - He paused and looked at the gun in his hand. - You know... Take it.


    He handed the gun to me.


    - Consider it a keepsake. And if it comes in handy, so much the better.


    I shook my head. The memory was very vivid and realistic, and it didn''t feel alien. Also, - I looked around, - the part of the house where Ozhogov''s gift should be kept looked intact. I''d have to figure out what I was doing later, but I should arm myself first.


    The house had been cleaned of everything of value that was in plain sight, but the robbers hadn''t found the little secret safe, and neither had the cellar, it seemed. And while I could understand the former, the latter was a bit odd. They was in a hurry, perhaps...? In any case, I was soon richer by a few hundred Pandoran dollars, a elemental Vladoff fire pistol with a couple of magazines of ammo, and a set of electronic parts whose purpose I could almost remember. Almost, right there on the edge of my mind.


    A strange sound made me turn around sharply, raising my gun. Something... Mechanical?


    A second, and the source of the sound appeared from behind the broken wall. A strange little... Robot? Shaped like an inverted truncated pyramid, on a single wheel, with a pair of manipulators on its sides that resembled simplified arms, and a large camera-eye raised above the center of the body. Yellow, with a horizontal white stripe.


    - Uh... Boss...? - came a voice that sounded a little unsure. - I''m, like, not that... I''m in the most valiant manner!


    Once again, a stab of pain triggered a memory. Far less cinematic this time; I just remembered what it was. Or what.


    CL4P-TP robotic domestic helper, manufactured by the Hyperion Corporation. Bought it upon arrival on Pandora. They offered me it for 300, I bargained it down to 50.


    I got screwed big time on that deal.


    - Boss, I''ll prove it! - The robot suddenly jumped, and the tone of his voice changed to excited. - I wasn''t hiding to save my life! I''ll be right back!


    He disappeared behind the wall again. He came back quickly, though, and with two objects in his "hands". In the right hand was a syringe filled with some kind of pink liquid, and in the left hand was some kind of device that looked like an ancient radio, perhaps.


    - There! - the robot proudly announced. - Got it just for you, boss! Despite the hordes of enemies! Bullets whizzing over my head!


    - Just shut up, - I sighed, feeling a headache of a different nature. - What''s that?


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.  - What is it? - There was obvious bewilderment in the robot''s voice. - InstaHeal from Dr. Zed - he shook the syringe - and ECHO. Best in the village, newest model. Took it off the mayor''s body, - he said proudly.


    He drove closer, and -


    - he stuck the syringe in my leg.


    Surprisingly, it didn''t hurt. In fact, as the pink liquid was rapidly absorbed - faster than I could pull the syringe out - I was clearly feeling better. Hmm.


    - Okay, well, you''ve earned your point, - I muttered.


    ...Unless, of course, this stuff has some horrible side effects.


    Anyway, for now, I switched to the robot''s second gift. Twirling the device around in my hands, I noticed the mounts for hanging it from my belt, and the single button, which I shrugged and pressed.


    "New user detected," a female voice sounded seemingly right in my ears. - "Checking... There is no lock. Would you like to change user?"


    - Uh... Yes? - I muttered aloud.


    "Acknowledged. Do you wish to integrate the device?"


    Hmm.


    - Well, yes, - I repeated.


    "Accepted. Adaptation and integration in progress."


    Suddenly my field of vision "blinked"; a streak of some kind passed across it, and then -


    New details appeared in my field of vision. Above the robot''s head appeared a yellow bar and the green inscription "Claptrap"; somewhere below, at the edge of my field of vision, but constantly perceived, appeared a red bar and some numbers.


    "Welcome to the ECHO augmented reality system. There is a new message for you. We also recommend that you review the new user''s manual," a female voice announced and went silent.


    Shit. Did this thing remotely tap into my nervous system...? The further I went, the more various incomprehensible and difficult to digest. But first things first.


    - Open new message - I said, and in front of me appeared a virtual window with the text.


    "Hello, Player! Obviously, you have a lot of questions. You don''t understand what happened, what''s going on around you, or anything."


    Indeed I do. And one would hope that there would be answers here.


    "And you want to hope there are answers in this letter. Well... Yes. First of all: it''s all my fault. Who''s "me"? Obviously, the one who has the power to throw you into another world and block some of your memories."


    - What an asshole... - I blurted out.


    "I''m regularly called an asshole, but it''s not true - I don''t need to defecate, so I recommend using ''almighty bastard'' or something similar."


    ...


    "Anyway, it''s not that bad! You''ve been given a rare opportunity to experience an exciting adventure! And you even have a pretty good chance of surviving it!"


    ...


    "And by the way, I have your consent. A little deceitfully obtained, but still."


    Ass... Bastard.


    "So, you are on the planet Pandora, a crazy place in every sense. Your goal is to find the Eridian Vault that holds your ticket home. Since that would kill the interest for me and the adventure for you, the memories you have of this world are locked, and will be unlocked as they become irrelevant.


    Just surviving on Pandora would be extremely difficult for you - much less getting to the Vault - so you got a bonus before you shipped out. A set of bonuses, even. Appreciate the generosity!"


    I raised an eyebrow skeptically. Somehow that''s... - I looked around, - questionable.


    "A little spoiler. The world you''re in is quite real. However, it''s game-based, and for your convenience - and, more importantly, my interest - you get some game conventions. First, "class." Since no one likes repetition, you get the full-original "Vladoff''s Combat Engineer" class with everything attached. Secondly, "leveling". In favor of non-violation of the realism of the world, it is made realistic enough, however, so I recommend that you do not spread your lips."


    I kind of already figured that out...


    "Your new ECHO will help you with it - on the command "status", you''ll figure it out, it''s not that complicated. And don''t worry, your ECHO is indestructible. Thirdly... I didn''t fulfill the third wish: respawning is too fat. Just try not to die for a while longer.


    P.S. I don''t recommend shooting Claptrap - he''s more useful than you might think. And more annoying than you''d think.


    P.P.S. Oh, and lastly: keep the exp pack for the first level-up."


    In front of me appeared... Something. Some set of glowing lines and cubes, quickly taking the shape of a strange four-legged beast.


    "Skag''s cub. Threat level: 1." - reads the red lettering above it.


    The beast roared softly.


    - Eee-ee! Skag! - Claptrap shrieked and ran away. The beast crouched slightly...


    I pulled the trigger of my pistol before it could jump. The barrel was jerked by the recoil, but the first bullet at such a distance still hit the beast''s face... not exactly a bullet. The fireball smashed into the hide, the actual fire left burning on the nearly hairless skin.


    The beast jerked back and squealed, and I hurriedly pointed the barrel at it again and fired a couple more bullets.


    "Level up!" - A familiar female voice reported, and....


    - If you don''t look after your gear more carefully than your wife, you''re shit, not an engineer, - the instructor informed me. - So all of you will now demonstrate your skills. Assembling, disassembling, repairing, using improvised means for maintenance... In general, the full program. Let''s get started.


    - What, right now? - someone said.


    - Well, personally, you''re free to go. The rest of you, did I not make myself clear?


    I shook myself back to reality. It''s gonna take some work.


    Even though the bandits had taken anything they deemed valuable enough, there were enough materials left in the ruined village that I could not only patch my armor, but also repair Dr. Zed''s damaged vending machine. And yes, I knew how to do that now. I had gained a large set of memories of technical knowledge after the "level-up", and it all felt quite native and familiar.


    I also learned the "leveling system" provided by ECHO. Really, I''d only studied it so far; I was currently at "Level: 2", and it unlocked from the third. Still, the information was entertaining.


    First of all, at the third level I would unlock a certain "Active skill", and after that it would be possible to level directly, which consisted of three branches of passive skills, most of which were five levels each. Descriptions of skills were unavailable - hopefully, for now, poking at random would not want to. However, something could be inferred from the names. "Assembler", "Dismantling", "Ammunition Modification", "Basic Military Training"... I can assume that I will continue to receive sets of memories.


    With that more or less sorted out, and having taken care of the basics of my own safety - I not only repaired my armor, but also bought a "shield", a small device that generates a kind of protective field, from a repaired vending machine - it was time to move on to the next step.


    I sighed heavily, pulled myself together, and spoke.


    - Hey, Claptrap! What do you know about the Vault, and where is the nearest settlement?


    It was time for me to take the first step in this fucking adventure.


    Damn it.

 One small step of a man.

    I''m fucked. Objectively, though not physiologically.


    It''s not even about the state the township and me specifically are in. The "fucked" is, ahem, the existential state of the entire planet I''m on. I''d even say its middle name.


    Memories, some information from the ECHOnet, and scraps of information from Claptrap - although the latter can be crossed out - were forming a depressing picture.


    Pandora is not an analog of the Wild West, as I first thought. It''s far worse.


    For some reason, insanity was rampant here. There were different versions of why, some thought it was the result of secret research by megacorporations using the wild outskirts of the civilized galaxy as a convenient testing ground for dubious projects, some thought it was the result of exposure to Eridian technology from artifacts and ruins found on the planet. The Eridians, if anything, are some ancient extinct race of aliens whose discovery of their heritage on several planets has spurred human technology. And it was news of their "vault" on Pandora that got my "character" here.


    Human technology, by the way... was weird. I mean, the level of development was very strange.


    To begin with, humanity spread across six galaxies.


    Not planets. Not star systems.


    Galaxies.


    One of the results of this absurdly wide spread was that I had no idea what was wrong with Earth, or even what year it was in Earth''s calendar. Maybe with further level-ups something will come to mind, but for now - nothing. No history, no "geography", not even a little about politics. However, back to technology.


    Another consequence of this absurdly wide spreading - or rather the opposite, what made it possible - was the ability to survive on alien planets with their microflora and biochemistry, provided by advanced biotechnology. My night vision is the first and most obvious greeting from these sciences, but in reality, the humans of this... world? are pretty far removed from the classic vanilla earthling. Perhaps the people here would be closer to Warhammer Space Troopers. Survivability and adaptability compared to the "base model" is insane.


    The amount of genome problems too, though. Pics in ECHOnet... n-yeah, there are plenty of various freaks and mutants here. One would hope that this is a Pandora problem.


    Anyway, my own injuries that I started this "game" with would have killed a normal person several times over, so I should be grateful, I suppose. On the other hand, then I might as well have started under more favorable conditions. Oh, and potential enemies have the same survivability. Ahem.


    Which brings me to my next point. Weapons and defenses.


    Force shields, the principle of which I didn''t know (I can only nod towards the level-up again), were a commonplace item available at the vending machine. A bunch of different models and features, no mention of needing to replace the power source or expiration date. A black box based on legal trade secrets and patenting.


    It was countered by firearms.


    Six galaxies. Advanced genetic engineering. Force shields. And bullet weapons that require manual reloading.


    Cognitive dissonance, man.


    To be fair, it wasn''t as primitive as you might think at first glance. Take my gun, which shoots... Plasma? It''s hard to say. The ammunition, by the way, was a kind of standardized semi-finished product, suitable for any gun, and the gun itself, even a non-chemical one, was not just a barrel, a grip, and a trigger, but a complex device, but still.


    Anyway, I didn''t know what to think about it. I could only hope that as an "engineer" I would learn and understand something, but for now I just tried to accept everything as it was - what else could I do?


    - By the way, boss! - Claptrap said. The little robot quickly regained his cheerfulness of mind... uh, is it even possible to say that about a robot? - despite the situation. My attempts to harness it to something useful, however, were quickly recognized by me as futile: despite its official designation as a "household helper," this gizmo was categorically incapable of doing anything normal. I didn''t get rid of it, mostly because of the mention in the letter of that... that entity that threw me here. And also because I thought it was worse to be alone.


    I could have been wrong about the last one. He''s very annoying.


    Still.


    - By the way, boss! - Claptrap said. - I repeated it twice because it''s important. Hey, I''m a poet!


    - What did you want to say? - I asked tiredly.


    - I just wanted to remind you that you''ve been contracted to work shooting skags near the settlement.


    I looked around suggestively, raising an eyebrow.


    - Don''t you think that''s a little, how shall I put it, irrelevant?


    - But, boss, you said it yourself, - the robot objected, its somewhat squeaky voice changing to a lower pitch, - You gotta do the job. Besides, you can''t get the reward without decoding the mayor''s ECHO. This could be our first step to becoming millionaires under my wise leadership!


    I habitually ignored his last phrase - this useful skill is developed very quickly, and even without levelling up. Hmm...


    Here, perhaps, it is worth returning to the topic of technology of this crazy planet - and the areal of mankind in general. One of the most widely used technologies of the madhouse I have to live in now is "digitalization". The information I have is, expectedly, scrappy, but some important points are made.


    Simply put, they have somehow managed to learn how to convert matter into information, and vice versa. Creating something out of nothing is still impossible, but storing and transmitting - and limited editing - objects as information is not only possible, but as commonplace as the same shields. My ECHO, for example, has fourteen "slots" for storing quick-access items, plus a separate slot for storing ammunition.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.This technology also allows for password-protected packing of items, just for such deals: you give the mercenary a password-protected archive, and when the job is done, you give him the password. In our case, the archive was kept by Claptrap for some reason, and the AI in the ECHO could witness the completion of the task. Again, "hmm." I also need to raise the level, and to practice... But the ammunition....


    - Ammo... - I muttered aloud.


    The Claptrap jumped up and waved his hands happily.


    - Oh, boss! I can help you solve this problem! You''ve got a shovel, too!


    Well, yes, the small sapper shovel hanging on his hip was among the few surviving equipment. I don''t know what the thing is made of, but it didn''t have a scratch on it - though I tried to leave one.


    - Can you help? - I questioned, without hiding my doubts.


    - Yes! - the robot said cheerfully. - It''s all coming together! No doubt it''s thanks to my brilliance!


    - Well... Okay, - I agreed. - Show me.


    I hope I won''t regret it.


    - Skags are an extremely interesting native life form of Pandora - Claptrap told in a lecturing tone. - They are able to survive in the harsh conditions of Pandora on par with such survivors as bandits and psychos. This is achieved mainly by fearlessness and the ability to eat anything, including the same bandits and psychos. They usually regurgitate such inedible parts of them as weapons, ammunition, and brains, which makes skag litter a valuable source of trace elements and ammunition.


    - Just shut up, - I said, sighing heavily. I never thought the first thing - one of the first things - I''d do when I got to another planet, was go through shit....


    Pandora is a big pile of shit.


    With some nuggets in it.


    At least Claptrap was right. I probably wouldn''t have believed him, but he cracked open the first pile of shit himself with a stick, revealing a standard package of ammo; the big plus was that converting them to a digital state eliminated the smell (though I still didn''t understand why they had to be loaded into the weapon by hand).


    Unfortunately, they weren''t ammo for a pistol, but for an "assault rifle", an automatic rifle. At least there were still plenty of similar piles visible... though I didn''t have the tongue to say it was "good".


    The shovel clanked against something metal, and then Claptrap squealed.


    - Skags!


    He''s good for something, though - notification...


    I immediately broke away from the digging, raising the pistol that appeared in my hand - an application of digital construction.


    ...Shit.


    Five familiar creatures, looking like a mix of a bald dog and some kind of strange tailless lizard, were coming in my direction. They weren''t particularly large, about the size of a medium-sized dog; the augmented reality ECHO labeled them as threat level one cubs, but one was bigger, and it was level two.


    I opened fire.


    My accuracy left a lot to be desired. Though the gun twitching in my hand felt familiar enough, and I was shooting quite confidently, i lacked skill. And the accuracy of the gun was far from ideal.


    At least the flames it produced were effective enough; two of the creatures fell with holes burned in their bodies. I replaced the clip, or rather the cartridge block, and kept firing; another skag caught fire, then another, but they were close by, and then the gun clicked empty as I pulled the trigger again, out of ammo.


    The burning skag jumped and slammed into me. The shield prevented the impact from reaching my body, but it didn''t stop it from staggering me, and then knocking me down. The second skag jumped, too, half a second after the first.


    The beast''s strange muzzle opened into four petals of a flesh-colored flower with stubby teeth, sprinkling me with... well, it wasn''t nectar.


    I brought my sharply sharpened spade down on it - right into its open mouth. The blade sliced through the flesh with surprising ease and slammed into the second skag.


    - The shield is exhausted! - reported an unpleasantly positive-sounding female voice. - Please wait for the recharge. And try to not die!


    I could almost see a smiley face after that phrase, but I didn''t care about that now: a successful blow with the shovel''s blade seemed to have finished off the first skag and thrown the second one off for a second, but the situation was still bad.


    ...Even worse than I''d expected.


    I tried to get up, tossing the carcass of the dead skag towards the still-living one, but at that moment the last, fifth, beast made itself known, stopping a few meters away from me. It crouched down, strained its legs, opened its mouth, and, no, it did not jump. It belched out a lump of some yellow stuff.


    It hit my leg; I shook it off immediately, shaking off the sticky stuff, but the skag next to me took advantage of it to claw at my arm. And it seemed that the homemade armor plate on my leg was dissolving with a hiss...


    The one on my arm held a little better, but still gave me a couple seconds to strike again with the shovel. And another one.


    "Level up!"


    Another set of information instantly became native, long-known knowledge, and at the same time I felt a surge of strength that allowed me to leap abruptly out of my seat in the direction of the last remaining skag. This time I didn''t hit it in the wrong way; I aimed for the still-open mouth, ready for another spit, and sliced the beast''s head from the inside. Maybe it''s just me, but it felt like I''d gotten a little stronger, too.


    Skag collapsed, and I flopped to the ground. I wasn''t really tired - was it the level up? - And even emotionally it wasn''t too hard, but I still needed to digest what had happened. And, by the way, to study what was revealed with the level increase.


    - Once again, the enemy has been defeated by the valiant robot of justice! - proudly proclaimed Claptrap, standing next to the corpses of the Skags.


    He was such a... Claptrap.

 My girlfriend, the gun.

    - Hyperion is obsessed with elite status, - I said thoughtfully. - Jacobs maintains the "good old days" image. Atlas is just making money. And Vladoff makes adamantium into dishes, shovels, and dentures.


    - And Malivan''s a rocker! - Claptrap put in, starting to dance - well, as he imagines it.


    - Uh-huh, - I agreed distantly. I kicked the skag''s carcass, flipping it onto its back.


    The level increase provided me with a set of information of varying degrees of usefulness, including some information about the political situation in the immediate vicinity - immediate on a cosmic scale, I mean. Pandora was a neutral territory with zones of influence of several megacorporations, but most of the planet''s territory belonged to no one.


    And yes, the main power and influence on this edge of this galaxy is held by megacorporations, not that they have swept up, but are replacing nations. Three of them have a major presence on Pandora - Atlas, Hyperion, and Dahl.


    I''m the only one from the Vladoff.


    Each of these technological colossi has its own army, and produces a lot of stuff, but the main necessities - I''m not even being ironic - that they supply to Pandora are weapons and shields. By the way, the Dahl are Vladoff''s main competitors, occupying the same niche in the arms market: rapid-fire automatic weapons. By comparison, Jacobs'' slogan is "If you needed a second shot, it ain''t Jacobs." Specializing in one-shot kills and style, they even use real wood in the finish of their weapons.


    Actually, there''s quite a long story to be told about all of this, so I''d better get back to my current endeavor. I sighed and chopped the belly of the skag with my shovel, cutting it open.


    Yeah, yeah. As Claptrap said - "Skags are Pandora''s most valuable resource!" And in the belly of the second one I found a trophy: a half-digested hand, still clutching a Dahl pistol.


    The strangest thing was that it didn''t even make me sick.


    At least this dirty work didn''t go unrewarded: in addition to the gun from the guts, I got a submachine gun from the pile, with an unused half of the cartridge block in it. As Claptrap remarked, "these cartridges are not enough even to go to visit a friend", so I had to continue digging.


    There''s a lot of ammo in skag shit. It''s like they ate all those bandits who robbed the settlement, and those didn''t think to digitize the loot, so they carried it around in their hands... I shrugged. Well, I''m better off.


    Strange as it may seem, I managed to adapt Claptrap to the useful business besides observing the surroundings: it turns out that in addition to his useful cowardice, he is quite good at searching for stashes, and he managed to find a couple of them in the ruined settlement and its immediate vicinity. It seemed like he should be trusted to pick through the shit, but he''d be harder to get rid of the smell than my shovel and armor, and I still intended to keep him around. Eventually my arsenal was replenished with a shotgun and a smattering of ammo. That''s something...


    A couple words about guns. ECHO issued a certificate on the available samples, in the spirit of "Low kill rate, low accuracy, high rate of fire", but to everything I have added "Trash. Recommend replacing with a better weapon." Unfortunately, standing apparently outside my house a vending machine digitally building Vlad''s weapons for sale was irreparably damaged.


    And, by the way, even without another level up, I remembered something. I - my character - had some friction with a local arms dealer named Marcus. He also claimed to know how to deal with competitors in one way or another... I wouldn''t be surprised if he was involved in the bandit raid.


    Unfortunately, I was too weak and too poorly armed to even think about revenge. For now, I hope.


    ...Still, the broken vending machine was not useless.


    These machines, which look like the ones you can buy drinks in on Earth, don''t actually store anything, all the goods are transferred from warehouses and digitally built, so there''s no point in smashing them in the hope of getting to the contents... almost. There are exceptions, and it just so happens that my case happens to be just that.


    It''s all about my trade scouting license.


    Oh, a license... It''s a very catch-all term in this world. Man, my "class" seems to be about eighty percent consists of them...


    The thing is that although digitization allows for fairly simple editing of materials and consequently the creation of things, but almost all ready-made standard schemes are patented, licensed, and you can only use them with the appropriate license. Almost to the point of "Do you have a license to tighten this type of nut?" Combat engineers like myself are trained to use off-the-shelf generic solution sets, which is what they are licensed for.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.They''re usually tied to DNA, so it''s impossible to lose or pass keys to someone. It was possible to check the available ones with the ECHO, but mine showed that most of the licenses available to me were locked, and would open with level up and "character skills".


    Still, some of my licenses were already active, and this allowed me to use the ammo supply and digitalization module forged from the machine.


    No, I didn''t have a free ammo license (I had a monthly "ration", but it was already used up). I did, however, have a license for "Maintenance of Vladoff Equipment", and this allowed me to do the trick, especially when combined with a license for "Protection of Vladoff Equipment".


    At level three, I was given the ability to create a "Defense Universal Military Battleturret", abbreviated to "DUMB". Seriously, that''s what it''s called. And, well, by a little fiddling with the licenses, I was able to add a module from a vending machine to the design, registering the modification in my ECHO for quick recreation. If I had been under the control of Vladoff''s inspectors, this would have been impossible, but as a Frontier Scout, I had some leeway.


    The result was unlimited turret ammo.


    ...Well, almost. If abused too much, the stockpile or accounting AI will notice a mismatch between ammo consumption in the stockpiles and projected profits, but that''s a lot of spending to do. Without feeding money to the turret.


    Maybe in the future I can get the turret to issue ammo for my personal needs as well, but not now.


    In any case, the ammo problem appeared to be partially solved, and this was something to try out.


    Such field turrets are used, in general, by the forces of all corporations, but each has its own peculiarities. Atlas, for example, takes the "Turret is cover" approach, and their Scorpions are all equipped with force shields. Dahl''s "Sabre" are simply rugged and have a pretty good cannon, plus allow for the addition of an optional mini-missile launcher and magnetic grapple, for quickly placing the turret on an awkward surface.


    The Vladoff''s DUMB turrets are simply a chassis, an automatic control system for mounted weapon. Which the user selects.


    Plus - characteristics can be adjusted to the circumstances and available resources. Minus - efficiency is very dependent on them, and it takes longer to deploy than the off-the-shelf designs of competitors.


    The least amount of ammo blocks I had was for the shotgun, so I decided to use it since the turret has virtually infinite. Pick a configuration, register the result, deploy.


    ...What a load of crap.


    - Oh! Lady, are you free this evening? - Claptrap said, and I didn''t immediately realize he was addressing the turret.


    That''s so... DUMB.


    Of course, it''s not nice to make the ladies do the work... geez. No time on this planet and I''m already starting to go crazy. Calling turret a lady... All because of Claptrap.


    Anyway, the plan worked out well, though I did replace the shotgun with an MG after a volley of wide shotgun blasts caught me and dropped my shield. Set up a turret near the skags'' dens, get their attention, run back to the turret, repeat. A few hours and the neighborhood was cleaned up, and I was richer by a couple hundred bucks, some ammo, and a "grenade modifier" - a device that turns "grenade ammo" into grenades. Bonus from the late mayor.


    The meat in the basement where I woke up on this planet turned out to be skag''s. Pretty crappy, but edible.


    - Well, I don''t have any other uncompleted tasks here, do I? - I asked Claptrap, pulling him away from flirting with the turret. It felt like it was trying to bump him with its barrel... No, it was probably just my imagination.


    - Negative, boss! - he reported in. - I mean, "No way, there''s none left," not "No way, you''re wrong about "there''s none left"." It''s a subtle but important distinction, so I want to make it clear so there is no misunderstanding between us. There is nothing more problematic than a misunderstanding between a human and a robot, though on the other hand it can be considered an inherent feature of our natures...


    - Just shut up, - I said to him, rubbing my temples. - Okay, okay. The nearest settlement is thirty kilometers from here. What about transportation? I''m asking you.


    He mumbled something, pressing his manipulators against the front of the hull.


    - Claptrap! - I said menacingly. - Answer the question.


    - But boss, you told me to shut up, - he remarked, and I rubbed my temples again. It''s going to be a complicated... A complicated life.

 He said, "Poehali!"

    In terms of transportation, the locals relied on anything what moving, so almost everyone had at least tractor, if not car: both necessary in Pandora''s conditions and inexpensive, given the possibilities of digital construction. Most, however, kept tractors that could be used for work in the fields, not just for riding.


    This was evident from the burned-out hulks near the settlement.


    Naturally, the bandits could not help but make a mess of it.


    There was no way to reconstruct these remains. Only complete material destructuring and re-creation, but I didn''t have a license for that.


    In terms of transportation, for travel, there was another option. A station for digitizing vehicles, or simply "rent-a-car". There was one nearby.


    ...The key word was "was." Despite the fact that most of it was made of metal comparable in strength to my shovel, and all the relatively fragile parts were protected as much as possible, the bandits had managed to destroy it as well. I say "bandits," but there were bite marks on the metal. It looked like human teeth, though.


    ...No, I just won''t think about it.


    In any case, I was left without anything to use as transportation.


    I glanced at Claptrap.


    ...Nah. While the idea is funny, even ignoring the fact that I don''t want to succumb to the madness, it''s too slow and uncomfortable.


    Though if you add jet engines to it....


    I shake myself up, determined to drive that nonsense away.


    So, what do we do? There''s no point in staying in the ruins of the settlement, but it''s quite possible, actually, to cross three dozen km of a wasteland swarming with skags and bandits on one''s own two feet. Even for a normal Earthling, and certainly for an inhabitant of this galaxy, it''s more of an inconvenience than a real problem. The digital construction even solves the problems of food and water... There is danger, of course - especially since skags aren''t the only local life form - but with caution and the use of a turret, it should be quite possible to cope. I''ll also gain experience, of both kinds. If I''m going to survive, much less return to Earth, I''m going to need it...


    I pressed my lips together. Okay, I''m not gonna drag this out. I''ll check a few things just in case, and get everything ready for the trip.


    I glanced at Claptrap again and sighed.


    So, let''s check the licenses available now and at the next level. Filter: vehicle related. Filter refinement: vehicle creation-related.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.    ...Really?


    I was hoping for a posted open license for some kind of clunker, at least, I don''t know, a moped or something. Or at least an engine that could be attached to a cart with a crowbar and some kind of mother.


    The only thing my ECHO found was a bicycle. A Bacon model.


    I rubbed my temples. Well, I guess it''s better than nothing at all.


    At least it wasn''t a push-cycle.


    Jerome had three on four wheels, and we had two on three. Valiantly traversing the dusty paths of a distant planet on an iron horse... Even though it''s "meat" in name.


    Still, whether it''s the idiotic situation or the planet itself, something about it definitely affects the clarity of thought.


    - Yahoo! - yelled Claptrap, who had brazenly grabbed the rear bumper of my vehicle and was taking advantage of the opportunity to ride at someone else''s expense. - Carry me, oh my iron horse! By the way, what''s a "horse"?


    I hit him with my shovel without looking so he wouldn''t yell.


    - Oops! Got it, classified information - the robot said. - Oh! On the left, we can see an endemic of Pandora: the electric cactus. This not rare and not a plant is very useful if you don''t have a high voltage source at hand and you want to cook the national Pandorian dish, "Shocked Skag-odka".


    I tapped him with the shovel again.


    - Oops! Okay, changing the channel. DJ Claptrap presents: Tubs-Dubs-Dubs-Dubs-Dubs... Oops!


    I frowned and stopped the swing. This time I didn''t get to hit him...


    In the next second, I heard a rumbling and dragging sound from somewhere behind me. The source became obvious almost immediately: a small car was quickly catching up with us. A buggy, or something similar; four wheels, metal frame body, one seat for the driver, and another by the machine gun turret overhanging it.


    Both seats were occupied by crazy-looking men with green Mohawks and white skull paint on their faces.


    - Bro, you see that too? - yelled the thug at the turret, over the noise of the engine.


    - "Bacon," the driver read the inscription on the frame of my transport just as loudly. - An undertaker on a meat bike is taking Claptrap to robot hell... Bro, I think we''ve been hanging out with psychos too much! We''re already seeing glitches!


    - We should take a vacation! - yelled the gunner.


    - Agreed! - the driver replied in the same tone. - Let''s turn towards the fucking islands!


    ...


    - You see, boss! - Claptrap said smugly, as the buggy disappeared from sight and the sound of the engine was no longer heard. - My disguise worked perfectly!

 A thorny cactus.

    The incident with the bandit''s buggy has really tickled my nerves. I''m too vulnerable on that bicycle... With that noisy trailer. Even though it was unexpectedly useful.


    Anyway, I''ll have to get a wheelbarrow and armour it well at the first opportunity.


    For a couple of seconds I dreamily pictured my future armored car before the bicycle almost hit a rock.


    Well, I should not yawn such, else a fly might get in, or bullet might get in. I should move from shelter to shelter, and if I hear an engine, I should hide....


    I should also think about my future plans. So far I''ve just been guided by the idea of "I need to get out to the people and then we''ll see", but that may be unwise. I need an idea of how to be... i need a plan. I''d need money, equipment, a place to live, information... yeah, a lot of things. I got experience for killing skags; I didn''t check if it was for the late mayor''s assignment. Perhaps the new settlement could contract out a similar job? With a turret, it''s not that dangerous. I need money and experience if I want to survive... That''s the bare minimum, I guess.


    At least, in terms of my own skills, I do have a certain minimum that allows me to survive on Pandora, and with the leveling I can open quite good prospects.


    Not bad, but very dim. Good, but lame.


    Approximate estimates of the plan of action, in the end, looked as follows: get to the settlement, find a job - construction, defense, shooting animals - save money and equip. The Vault? What Vault?


    More seriously, there was no point in rushing to the Vault. There was nothing in the message from the Almighty Nonshitting Unknown Superbeing (in short, I wish for kick someone in ANUS) that I had to be at the Vault first, because I didn''t need the loot, I needed the portal. Besides, in my current state... Even ignoring the fact that I simply have no idea what to look for and where to look, competing with a bunch of adventurers, among whom there are obviously many better prepared and equipped than me, is simply suicidal. I need thorough training, especially with the "leveling system" I have in place. So - work, hunting, gear... It''s clear even to an dumb bear.


    Perhaps, if there was one thing that didn''t bother me... no, not so - didn''t annoy me in my situation, it was the ECHO. The device, connected, it seems, directly to the nervous system or brain, could not stress me, but its usefulness and value are indisputable. That''s something I''d like to take with me to Earth. There''s a lot of money to be made from the ability to store things in digitized form, and I''m not talking about the ability to digitally build things, even with limited licenses.


    Hmmm. And this one... Does anyone want alien technological treasure from the Vault? To me, the treasure is human licenses. Some of them can be bought from corporations, some of them can probably be obtained through less legal means under Pandora''s conditions. Some, if I can make some headway, can be extorted from Vladoff. That''s another goal for me: to collect useful licenses. They''ll be useful on Pandora, and if I can return to Earth with ECHO, I''ll use them at all.


    It turns out that Claptrap is able to adjust his microphone to be able to hear the sound of the engine in the steppe of Pandora for a good few kilometers. Given the paucity of good cover and good visibility, that margin of distance was very valuable. Plus, although it was impossible to shut it up for more than a few seconds - you can''t even physically unscrew the speaker, it self-destructs if you try to disassemble it, Hyperion''s reverse-engineering protection - but I managed to get it to reduce the volume to a minimum.


    So we drove along the map provided by the ECHO, looking for cover and twitching at any noise. Not too heroic, but when you have almost no ammo, I guess even a tough action hero would prefer to avoid unnecessary gunfights.


    ...Or rob bandits for their guns and ammo. Yeah.


    Dusty, hot. The only consolation is no mosquitoes or any such nastiness. On the other hand, I wouldn''t be surprised if somewhere on Pandora, there are giant, acid-spitting mutant mosquitoes. Or even able to transform. There are giant armored spider ants here for sure, I''ve seen them on ECHOnet, but they''re to east of here.


    I called the area around me a steppe, but that was wrong; a steppe should be straight and flat, and more lively. Around me it was more like a hilly desert. Not "sand, all around is sand," but stone, dust, and scanty vegetation. There were some earthy areas, some sand, but mostly the terrain was rocky.


    A couple of times there were remnants of buildings of some kind, and I saw some huge skeletons, dried by the sun and weathered by wind and dust. They were not white, more like dirty gray, and their size, including the fangs in their skulls, made me tense.


    One would hope that such creatures are extinct - or at least not encountered where I will be encountered.


    I don''t want to meet monsters like that.


    I prefer girls.


    When Claptrap heard the sounds of the engine again, another ruin was just ahead - a small house leaning over and half sunk into the sand. Except there was no sand. I need an idea of how it to became such...


    Well, whatever caused this phenomenon, it was a hiding place, and bandits are dangerous, so I hurried to point my bicycle in its direction.


    On the other side of the ramshackle building was a metal booth with a door that looked like a electro transformer. Unlike the building, it looked intact, except that the red paint was a little peeling and someone had scrawled some obscenities on it.


    The engine rumbled past, and I decided to give in to curiosity. The stall door was closed but not locked, so I opened it cautiously.


    ...It turned out to be a toilet. Symbolically, it had survived what the dwelling had not.


    There was also a gun in the drain. Rusty and useless, but the fact of the matter is...


    Maybe someone had a toilet-trained skag.


    The Claptrap managed to find five bucks in the ruins, and he was very happy about it. He mumbled something about the first step to taking over the world, but I tried not to listen. "At the end of this road lies madness," I don''t remember the exact quote. Though it was threatening as it was, but why give in to it?


    At first I didn''t realize what had caught my attention, but my mind caught on to something and I looked closer. Hmm... Something sticking out of the ground. A person?!


    More to the point, alive. He''s was buried up to his waist, his arms fixed with some kind of iron in a strange pose - one bent upward, the other downward - but he''s alive.


    He also had a sign sticking out from behind his back that read "KoActu(s)a(ll)y Jim".


    The fact that he was alive was revealed very simple: when I got closer - having first checked the immediate surroundings for ambushes - he opened one eye. Then he noticed Claptrap, and opened the other.


    - Shoo, - he said hoarsely, his lips drying out. - At least stay out of my delusions, Claptrap.


    - Oh, it''s boss number four! - exclaimed the robot. - What a reunion! Let me introduce you. Boss number four, this is boss number twelve. Boss number twelve, this is boss number four.


    I shook my head. Whatever he did, he''d probably suffered enough already.


    ...I mean, I''m not just talking about possessing Claptrap.


    As one would expect from a homo recens, i.e. a modern man, it took a few minutes and a couple of liters of water for our new acquaintance, whom my ECHO designated, according to the sign, as "Cactuar Jim", to come to his senses. I had a stock of the water in my ECHO, plus a license that slowly synthesizes it from the air, so I wasn''t greedy.


    However, before digging this guy up, I set up a turret. All the more reason to be safer with it in general.


    - A benefactor - exhaled "Jim", a thin, dark-haired, dark-skinned man with a small mustache, emptying a large metal mug that ECHO had been digitally building with water. - I don''t know how much longer I''d have to hang around like this if it weren''t for you. New to Pandora?


    - Why would you think that? - I asked.


    - Other than politeness and demeanor? There''s a sure sign. You still do not get rid of Claptrap.


    I nodded. A reasonable argument.


    - Hey! - Claptrap was outraged. - The boss just didn''t have a convenient opportunity.


    - I didn''t introduce myself, however - continued the rescued man, ignoring him with honed skill. - Slippery Jim. Former Maliwan agent, former Hyperion mercenary, and now adventurer extraordinaire.


    I raised an eyebrow. This self-description... Questionable. Especially considering the condition I found him in.


    Jim - the sign above his head blinked appraisingly, then reluctantly changed to "Slippery Jim" - looked at me expectantly. Well, in principle, I have no reason to withhold this information.


    - Pyotr Dyatlov - I informed. - Officially - Vladoff''s combat engineer, scouting the market.


    - Well, the demand for guns on Pandora is good, - Jim agreed. - And speaking of guns. I''ve noticed that your armament is... far from perfect.


    I cringed.


    - Bandits.


    He nodded understandingly.


    - Well, I have a proposition for you. I wish I could thank you, but my options are somewhat limited, - he turned out the pockets of his light gray sleeveless jacket. - The bandits who put me in this cactus-infested place thought I knew where to find a stash of quality weapons. But they were wrong.


    - So you don''t know.


    - So they couldn''t find out the location from me, - Jim grinned. - But as a thank you, I''m willing to share its contents with you.


    - Hmm... - I said. That''s an interesting offer, and I could really use a good weapon, but it sounds like a trick, if not an obvious trap. I frowned, opened my mouth...


    - Yyyyagrrr!


    "Badass psycho, threat level: 6."


    Right through a nearby wall, the remnant of some building, a big guy was rushing at us. He was over two meters tall, bald, wearing ragged pants, his left hand shrunken, while his right hand, clutching some sort of mix between axe and circular saw, was noticeably enlarged. Where did he come from? Even Claptrap didn''t notice...


    This thoughts still not stop me from acting same time.


    The turret opened fire a little before I did. A streak of red dots crossed the chest of the "Badass Psycho", but it was as if he didn''t even notice the bullets of the gun.


    The pistol fire, however, made him flinch and slow down a bit.


    The problem was that I only had one cartridge block left.


    However...


    A mental command, and the pistol disappeared and a shotgun appeared in its place. But that was enough time for the psycho to get next to me.


    The impact of the sawaxe blew away my shield and threw me back, but the shotgun was still in my hands. A shot... half of buckshot missed him. Another shot at the psycho next to me... I could have sworn the pellets were bouncing off his skull.


    The eyes, however, were not so durable. I took one out, the other was covered in blood (how did he survive with a pellet through his eye?!), and the psycho blindly swung the sawaxe. I rolled over - losing my armor plate in the glancing blow - and fired another volley. And another, emptying the magazine.


    ...The psycho fell, face down between my legs. I immediately slammed the butt of my gun into the base of his skull, but he didn''t even flinch - dead.


    Leaning on the back of his head, I hurried to get up and turn toward the sounds of fighting on the other side, but by that time Jim had just finished: when I turned around, he was sitting on the shoulders of another big guy, not as big as the psycho I''d killed, but quite muscular and armed with a shotgun ("Brawler, threat level: 4", the augmented reality told me), and slammed his fist into the back of his head. He immediately went down face-first, but Jim jumped away, and I could see the sharp pin sticking out his hand.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!    And not far away was another corpse, this time half the size of a normal man. But also armed, with an submachine gun.


    - Not bad, - Jim said, picking up the captured shotgun. - So what about my offer?


    The incident with the bandit''s buggy has really tickled my nerves. I''m too vulnerable on that bicycle... With that noisy trailer. Even though it was unexpectedly useful.


    Anyway, I''ll have to get a wheelbarrow and armour it well at the first opportunity.


    For a couple of seconds I dreamily pictured my future armored car before the bicycle almost hit a rock.


    Well, I should not yawn such, else a fly might get in, or bullet might get in. I should move from shelter to shelter, and if I hear an engine, I should hide....


    I should also think about my future plans. So far I''ve just been guided by the idea of "I need to get out to the people and then we''ll see", but that may be unwise. I need an idea of how to be... i need a plan. I''d need money, equipment, a place to live, information... yeah, a lot of things. I got experience for killing skags; I didn''t check if it was for the late mayor''s assignment. Perhaps the new settlement could contract out a similar job? With a turret, it''s not that dangerous. I need money and experience if I want to survive... That''s the bare minimum, I guess.


    At least, in terms of my own skills, I do have a certain minimum that allows me to survive on Pandora, and with the leveling I can open quite good prospects.


    Not bad, but very dim. Good, but lame.


    Approximate estimates of the plan of action, in the end, looked as follows: get to the settlement, find a job - construction, defense, shooting animals - save money and equip. The Vault? What Vault?


    More seriously, there was no point in rushing to the Vault. There was nothing in the message from the Almighty Nonshitting Unknown Superbeing (in short, I wish for kick someone in ANUS) that I had to be at the Vault first, because I didn''t need the loot, I needed the portal. Besides, in my current state... Even ignoring the fact that I simply have no idea what to look for and where to look, competing with a bunch of adventurers, among whom there are obviously many better prepared and equipped than me, is simply suicidal. I need thorough training, especially with the "leveling system" I have in place. So - work, hunting, gear... It''s clear even to an dumb bear.


    Perhaps, if there was one thing that didn''t bother me... no, not so - didn''t annoy me in my situation, it was the ECHO. The device, connected, it seems, directly to the nervous system or brain, could not stress me, but its usefulness and value are indisputable. That''s something I''d like to take with me to Earth. There''s a lot of money to be made from the ability to store things in digitized form, and I''m not talking about the ability to digitally build things, even with limited licenses.


    Hmmm. And this one... Does anyone want alien technological treasure from the Vault? To me, the treasure is human licenses. Some of them can be bought from corporations, some of them can probably be obtained through less legal means under Pandora''s conditions. Some, if I can make some headway, can be extorted from Vladoff. That''s another goal for me: to collect useful licenses. They''ll be useful on Pandora, and if I can return to Earth with ECHO, I''ll use them at all.


    It turns out that Claptrap is able to adjust his microphone to be able to hear the sound of the engine in the steppe of Pandora for a good few kilometers. Given the paucity of good cover and good visibility, that margin of distance was very valuable. Plus, although it was impossible to shut it up for more than a few seconds - you can''t even physically unscrew the speaker, it self-destructs if you try to disassemble it, Hyperion''s reverse-engineering protection - but I managed to get it to reduce the volume to a minimum.


    So we drove along the map provided by the ECHO, looking for cover and twitching at any noise. Not too heroic, but when you have almost no ammo, I guess even a tough action hero would prefer to avoid unnecessary gunfights.


    ...Or rob bandits for their guns and ammo. Yeah.


    Dusty, hot. The only consolation is no mosquitoes or any such nastiness. On the other hand, I wouldn''t be surprised if somewhere on Pandora, there are giant, acid-spitting mutant mosquitoes. Or even able to transform. There are giant armored spider ants here for sure, I''ve seen them on ECHOnet, but they''re to east of here.


    I called the area around me a steppe, but that was wrong; a steppe should be straight and flat, and more lively. Around me it was more like a hilly desert. Not "sand, all around is sand," but stone, dust, and scanty vegetation. There were some earthy areas, some sand, but mostly the terrain was rocky.


    A couple of times there were remnants of buildings of some kind, and I saw some huge skeletons, dried by the sun and weathered by wind and dust. They were not white, more like dirty gray, and their size, including the fangs in their skulls, made me tense.


    One would hope that such creatures are extinct - or at least not encountered where I will be encountered.


    I don''t want to meet monsters like that.


    I prefer girls.


    When Claptrap heard the sounds of the engine again, another ruin was just ahead - a small house leaning over and half sunk into the sand. Except there was no sand. I need an idea of how it to became such...


    Well, whatever caused this phenomenon, it was a hiding place, and bandits are dangerous, so I hurried to point my bicycle in its direction.


    On the other side of the ramshackle building was a metal booth with a door that looked like a electro transformer. Unlike the building, it looked intact, except that the red paint was a little peeling and someone had scrawled some obscenities on it.


    The engine rumbled past, and I decided to give in to curiosity. The stall door was closed but not locked, so I opened it cautiously.


    ...It turned out to be a toilet. Symbolically, it had survived what the dwelling had not.


    There was also a gun in the drain. Rusty and useless, but the fact of the matter is...


    Maybe someone had a toilet-trained skag.


    The Claptrap managed to find five bucks in the ruins, and he was very happy about it. He mumbled something about the first step to taking over the world, but I tried not to listen. "At the end of this road lies madness," I don''t remember the exact quote. Though it was threatening as it was, but why give in to it?


    At first I didn''t realize what had caught my attention, but my mind caught on to something and I looked closer. Hmm... Something sticking out of the ground. A person?!


    More to the point, alive. He''s was buried up to his waist, his arms fixed with some kind of iron in a strange pose - one bent upward, the other downward - but he''s alive.


    He also had a sign sticking out from behind his back that read "KoActu(s)a(ll)y Jim".


    The fact that he was alive was revealed very simple: when I got closer - having first checked the immediate surroundings for ambushes - he opened one eye. Then he noticed Claptrap, and opened the other.


    - Shoo, - he said hoarsely, his lips drying out. - At least stay out of my delusions, Claptrap.


    - Oh, it''s boss number four! - exclaimed the robot. - What a reunion! Let me introduce you. Boss number four, this is boss number twelve. Boss number twelve, this is boss number four.


    I shook my head. Whatever he did, he''d probably suffered enough already.


    ...I mean, I''m not just talking about possessing Claptrap.


    As one would expect from a homo recens, i.e. a modern man, it took a few minutes and a couple of liters of water for our new acquaintance, whom my ECHO designated, according to the sign, as "Cactuar Jim", to come to his senses. I had a stock of the water in my ECHO, plus a license that slowly synthesizes it from the air, so I wasn''t greedy.


    However, before digging this guy up, I set up a turret. All the more reason to be safer with it in general.


    - A benefactor - exhaled "Jim", a thin, dark-haired, dark-skinned man with a small mustache, emptying a large metal mug that ECHO had been digitally building with water. - I don''t know how much longer I''d have to hang around like this if it weren''t for you. New to Pandora?


    - Why would you think that? - I asked.


    - Other than politeness and demeanor? There''s a sure sign. You still do not get rid of Claptrap.


    I nodded. A reasonable argument.


    - Hey! - Claptrap was outraged. - The boss just didn''t have a convenient opportunity.


    - I didn''t introduce myself, however - continued the rescued man, ignoring him with honed skill. - Slippery Jim. Former Maliwan agent, former Hyperion mercenary, and now adventurer extraordinaire.


    I raised an eyebrow. This self-description... Questionable. Especially considering the condition I found him in.


    Jim - the sign above his head blinked appraisingly, then reluctantly changed to "Slippery Jim" - looked at me expectantly. Well, in principle, I have no reason to withhold this information.


    - Pyotr Dyatlov - I informed. - Officially - Vladoff''s combat engineer, scouting the market.


    - Well, the demand for guns on Pandora is good, - Jim agreed. - And speaking of guns. I''ve noticed that your armament is... far from perfect.


    I cringed.


    - Bandits.


    He nodded understandingly.


    - Well, I have a proposition for you. I wish I could thank you, but my options are somewhat limited, - he turned out the pockets of his light gray sleeveless jacket. - The bandits who put me in this cactus-infested place thought I knew where to find a stash of quality weapons. But they were wrong.


    - So you don''t know.


    - So they couldn''t find out the location from me, - Jim grinned. - But as a thank you, I''m willing to share its contents with you.


    - Hmm... - I said. That''s an interesting offer, and I could really use a good weapon, but it sounds like a trick, if not an obvious trap. I frowned, opened my mouth...


    - Yyyyagrrr!


    "Badass psycho, threat level: 6."


    Right through a nearby wall, the remnant of some building, a big guy was rushing at us. He was over two meters tall, bald, wearing ragged pants, his left hand shrunken, while his right hand, clutching some sort of mix between axe and circular saw, was noticeably enlarged. Where did he come from? Even Claptrap didn''t notice...


    This thoughts still not stop me from acting same time.


    The turret opened fire a little before I did. A streak of red dots crossed the chest of the "Badass Psycho", but it was as if he didn''t even notice the bullets of the gun.


    The pistol fire, however, made him flinch and slow down a bit.


    The problem was that I only had one cartridge block left.


    However...


    A mental command, and the pistol disappeared and a shotgun appeared in its place. But that was enough time for the psycho to get next to me.


    The impact of the sawaxe blew away my shield and threw me back, but the shotgun was still in my hands. A shot... half of buckshot missed him. Another shot at the psycho next to me... I could have sworn the pellets were bouncing off his skull.


    The eyes, however, were not so durable. I took one out, the other was covered in blood (how did he survive with a pellet through his eye?!), and the psycho blindly swung the sawaxe. I rolled over - losing my armor plate in the glancing blow - and fired another volley. And another, emptying the magazine.


    ...The psycho fell, face down between my legs. I immediately slammed the butt of my gun into the base of his skull, but he didn''t even flinch - dead.


    Leaning on the back of his head, I hurried to get up and turn toward the sounds of fighting on the other side, but by that time Jim had just finished: when I turned around, he was sitting on the shoulders of another big guy, not as big as the psycho I''d killed, but quite muscular and armed with a shotgun ("Brawler, threat level: 4", the augmented reality told me), and slammed his fist into the back of his head. He immediately went down face-first, but Jim jumped away, and I could see the sharp pin sticking out his hand.


    And not far away was another corpse, this time half the size of a normal man. But also armed, with an submachine gun.


    - Not bad, - Jim said, picking up the captured shotgun. - So what about my offer?

 Chicks, cars, treasure.

    - Let''s take it from the top, - I suggested. - Obviously, I don''t trust you.


    - And that''s only natural, - Jim nodded, examining the corpses for more trophies. - You can''t trust anyone on Pandora, not even yourself. But cooperation and temporary alliances are possible.


    He waved his hand, pointing at the corpses, and I nodded. If I hadn''t taken on the psycho, it was unlikely he would have handled all three. Same goes for me.


    - I wouldn''t want our cooperation to end with a bullet in the back when we find our prey, - I said. - It''s worth putting that aside for a moment, though. Where did those three come from?


    Jim jabbed his finger at the wall the psycho had hit, and then walked toward it.


    - The basement, - he said. - I''m guessing there''s a mountain of empty bottles and nothing but. Get drunk, sleep for a couple days, wake up at the wrong time. The usual.


    His guess was almost right. In addition to the trash - and the bottles - there was a box in the basement with several cartridge blocks, for a shotgun and an automatic rifle. The shotgun ammo had to be shared, and accordingly I switched to SG, putting the pistol on the turret.


    - Back to our conversation, - Jim continued. - Probably the only way you can protect yourself from a shot in the back is not to put it. Well, a good shield and your own toughness also helps. When your partner knows he can''t finish the job with one shot, and then there''s a response, it makes him think twice. You have a shield... you do, and my weaponry - he patted the shotgun - isn''t good enough to take it down reliably enough. Especially not at point-blank range.


    I''ve pondered it.


    - Is your stash of guns guarded?


    - It''s nice to do business with a smart man, - Jim smiled white-toothed. - Seriously, most bandits are so dumb and crazy you can''t even fool them. Yes, there is a certain amount of security. I could take care of it alone, but I''d have to be better armed first. Two of us can do it without too much trouble.


    It all seemed rather dubious, but the logic behind Jim''s words was obvious. Hmm... I''ll have to take risks anyway, and this seems like a good opportunity. The main thing is to be careful not to be backstabbed, both literally and figuratively.


    - Okay, - I nodded.


    - It''s a smart decision. So, first we need to get my ECHO back. Without it, this operation will be much more difficult.


    ECHO in this world is really important, but...


    - And how are you going to get it back? - I asked. The "simple matter" of going and getting the stash was growing - expectedly.


    - The bandits who put me away come back every day, hoping I''ll tell them, - Jim explained. - So we just have to set up a proper ambush. First, we have to pretend I''m still buried. If I had any ECHO at all, I''d use a solid Hyperion hologram, but I''ll have to do things a little differently. Can you get me on the comms? I need to call my ex.


    I nodded, and he dictated a code; a cone of diffuse light shot out of the ECHO.


    - Neural interface? - Jim said, but then an image appeared in the light: the head and part of the chest of a young... or not-so-young woman. The woman in the hologram was attractive, but it was hard to tell her age because of the makeup covering her. Red cylinder, dark hair... And a heart-shaped tattoo on her left breast.


    - Hmm? - she shifted her gaze from me to Jim and back again. - Jim, sugar, do you have a new friend? Did you decide to call to brag?


    - Moxie, you''re my only love after money, you know that - replied the voiced one. - No, it''s business. Can you sell me that doll? - he glanced at me - On credit?


    - Hmm... - the woman stretched thoughtfully, stroking her chin. It''s amazing how much can be conveyed by such a simple word, practically just one sound. - All right. If you''re still alive, come to my bar in Yellowrock. I''ve got a job for you.


    She did an air kiss and disconnected, and my ECHO reported an incoming archive.


    A human-sized doll made of plastic and metal, very accurately portraying my Slippery familiar. I raised an eyebrow.


    - It''s love¡­ - Jim explained. - After we broke up, Moxie couldn''t let go of the memory of me.


    - She''s got bullet marks on her - I noticed. - And, I think, throwing knives.


    - Well, Moxie''s love is... peculiar, - the adventurer said, averting his gaze. - Now we''ll need explosives.


    I only had one grenade, but on reflection, I decided to sacrifice it.


    Fun fact: modern grenades use antimatter as their "explosive". However, depending on the "modifier", the volume of the active substance and the efficiency of its use varies within extremely wide limits, from a few molecules to a couple of grams. Not only that, though - grenades in general come in very different varieties, depending on the manufacturer of the "mods".


    Mine was one of the simplest and most primitive, but it made the job of converting the grenade into a booby trap easier. The power output, however, left a lot to be desired.


    I - my character - had some manual, non-digitalized explosives skills, but at the current level it was "some," so I left it to Jim. He worked smartly and quickly; my participation was important, too.


    I was making sure that Claptrap didn''t screw anything up.


    An ambush with that annoying little robot around is virtually impossible. Turning it off is also impossible. Jim suggested just shooting it, but aside from the "plot significance" I paid dough for it. "A lot of people fall for that," Jim remarked when I said that, nodding sagely.


    And it''s a pity about the ammunition on it, too.


    So I wrapped Claptrap with the chain I found in the bandits'' den, put him in the ammunition box, and buried him. I''ll get it out when we''re done with the next batch of bandits.


    He actually started yelling indignantly at the speaker, but I told him it was for his own safety, plus he had the responsible task of playing the buried treasure. As I expected, Claptrap became self-important and turned down the volume when I compared him to the treasure.


    Obviously, in the midst of all this, I''ve been keeping an eye on Jim. So far our interests were aligned, but...


    The bandits were due to arrive in the morning for another attempt to interrogate their victim, but the day on Pandora was much longer than on Earth, something like sixty hours. And that left us with a fair amount of free time on our hands.


    Jim went hunting. He grimaced at the sight of scag meat and remarked, "It''s times like this that I think of pigcupine... Good thing there are better options after all," and soon returned with what I first took for cobblestones, gray and lumpy. On closer inspection, however, they turned out to be either crabs or some kind of large bugs that Jim and ECHO called "sand crayfish."


    Taste... Specific.


    Not bad, though. I provided the wok, water, and salt, and Jim, or rather his cyberprosthesis, provided the fire. Echo, by the way, gave a brief description of the "crayfish", confirming its edibility.


    - B three, - Jim said.


    - Missed. B five.


    - Killed... - sighed Slippery and flicked the scrawles on the sand. - I demand a rematch.


    Uh-huh, two scumbags sitting on the ground in the unknown future on a distant planet, and playing "naval combat". Why not, really? Who''s going to stop us?


    I nodded and started drawing two squares on the ground again, with the muzzle of the gun. Both Jim''s and mine playfields turned out remarkably even and neat.


    - Five-two, I said. - Another game?


    - I give up. - Jim raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. - How about a game of tic-tac-toe?


    "Level up!"


    Uh? I froze for a second. Why would I do that? Does winning count as completing a task? Or as actually winning?


    Or is the Almighty Bastard just trolling?


    - Just a second, - I raised my hand.


    "Status."


    That''s right, the level has gone up. There was no automatic knowledge gain this time - though I definitely felt refreshed and... stronger, or something - but there was a message on the skill "screen" about an unspent point. The skills themselves were now unlocked - but not all of them. Three branches, each with a set of starting skills available. "Deconstruction" - available skills more effective destruction of armor and shields. Can be immediately discarded: not something that''s really important right now. "Construction"... this is already more interesting. The first skill, "assembler", according to the description should simplify the creation of turrets (and other structures), as well as unlocks a set of licenses. The problem is that it didn''t specify which ones. The second skill is "economy". Should reduce ammo consumption; I can assume there are some tricks to customizing ECHOs and/or weapons to use ammo blocks more efficiently. Valuable, no doubt, but other skills were strong competitors. "Technical Competency" - increases the effectiveness (all characteristics) of turrets and other structures, unlocks multiple licenses. At first glance a major contender, however I obviously checked out the remaining options first.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.    There were some interesting possibilities there too.


    The "Life Support" branch. "Basic Military Training" speaks for itself. In the Pandora environment, military training, even basic, is a valuable thing. I honestly thought I already had something like this, but apparently not.


    Unfortunately, the effectiveness of this skill again remained to be guessed.


    The next was "field medic". And in addition to direct skills of first aid (and not only first aid, with sufficient skill), the description promised a license to digitally build a Vladoff''s field medikit.


    Oddly enough, this was no longer a shot in the dark. A quick search on the EchoNet revealed that Vladoff''s standard field medical kit included a wide range of medications and stimulants for various cases, and a basic module "autodoc", capable of self-diagnosis and injections. This is quite rare on Pandora, and seems to be quite useful.


    The third was "safety at fire". A set of methods of defense against fire and fire weapons, plus a license to synthesize a fireproof coating of armor. Not useless, but not a competitor to the previous skills.


    In the end, the choice is between increasing personal combat capability, medical insurance, and turret. Taking into account all the factors, among which the lack of ammunition is at the top of the list... The choice, in general, is obvious.


    I''m taking the turret improvement, and hopefully with its help I can take the "field medic" in the near future.


    - Never underestimate duct tape! That blue stuff deserves respect far more than any of you greens. Even without additional licenses or special technical knowledge, it allows for things like this...


    That was... somewhat different from what I expected. However, there is no denying the usefulness of the knowledge gained. Especially, there were different ones in this "archive". And plus, now I''ll be able to refine my armor a bit.


    Don''t underestimate duct tape.


    Pandora''s night, how much is in those words...


    Actually, no. Given the presence of night vision, it''s only about half as dark as day.


    The heat has gradually changed to coolness, but I was expecting a more abrupt transition given the semi-desert, if not completely desert, terrain. Perhaps it was the same improved body, though, and I simply tolerated the cold more easily. In principle, my armor had a built-in "air conditioner", but like almost everything else, it was broken and there were not enough materials for a complete repair (I hope to fix it as soon as possible). The shield also provided some temperature stabilization; I suspect an advanced model could replace a spacesuit. Though given the licenses and the need to sell more stuff, it''s more likely this is provided by a separate device.


    Pandora''s night is almost an Earth whole day long, but both Jim and I were quite able to safely go without sleep for that length of time without any ill effects. I probably could have taken a nap under the guard of the turret, but I decided not to risk it. But Slippery (it turns out that''s his real last name...) took a nap for a couple of hours - well, yes, he has almost no reason to fear that I''ll kill him in his sleep. What was I saving him for? The only thing to take from him was a trophy shotgun.


    I might still have risked a nap, too, but after the level increase, there was no trace of fatigue or sleepiness. At least it also provided something to do besides the burying of corpses already done: tuning the turret and refining the armor. Thorough as possible with limited skills and materials.


    Theoretically, with the ECHO, it''s possible to mine all the necessary materials from the environment in small quantities and digitally build everything you need from them. Unfortunately, I wasn''t in the sandbox after all... apparently.


    Nevertheless, there were still some things available. The metal from the frame of the building was not high quality steel or any special alloy like the one my shovel was made of, but there was a use for it. Actually, you always need some digitized metal, both for patching armor and digitally building turrets, and that''s just the most obvious and important. The shells of "sand crayfish", by the way, also contained valuable minerals, but there were too few to count. However, since I had time, I didn''t hesitate to recycle them as well. Who knows, maybe these half a gram of mercury, a gram of lead and a gram and a half of tungsten (unexpectedly) will come in handy.


    The bandits appeared about two hours after dawn, in a car similar to the one I had already seen.


    - I wish I had a sniper... - sighed Jim, who was sitting next to me. - Two bullets, and I wouldn''t have to borrow from Moxie.


    I shrugged.


    - Maybe we could get some. In the meantime, we got what we got.


    - And what we have, - the adventurer grinned. - Be ready.


    I nodded, watching the bandits stop and get out of the car. They looked okay, not dwarves or giants, but there was something tense about them. Even at a distance the ECHO could identify them enough to assign a danger level (I wonder if it had something to do with my "levels"?...), and it was... disturbing. Fifth. The "badass psycho" had a sixth, but he was alone.


    Also... During the night I''d poked around the FAQ and ECHO settings, and now I knew that the red bar indicated the general state of organic, living, creatures, the yellow bar indicated the integrity of armor, if any, and the blue bar indicated the stability of the shield (conventionally, its "health"). Previous bandits only had red stripes. Now, however...


    - They have shields - I reported.


    - It was to be expected, - Jim remarked. - Even with a trap it can be difficult. We''ll manage, the main thing is not to let them get away. I''ll attack, you deploy the turret at the car and support.


    - Copy that - I replied briefly.


    The puppet representing Jim was very realistic, but I was still a bit skeptical. Slippery, however, assured me it would work - and he was right.


    The bandits approached the doll and said something; the doll, of course, didn''t respond. Then one of them came closer and punched "Jim" in the face.


    It burst into flames.


    Alas and alack, the result was exactly what I feared. The power of the budget grenade wasn''t enough; the blue shield bar on one of the bandits was zeroed out, on the other shrunk to a minimum and blinked alarmingly, but they were both alive.


    And that had to be fixed.


    If our little team had been more trusting of each other, it would have been worth it to lend Jim, as a stormtrooper, a shield. But he hadn''t even mentioned it - and as it turned out, he could handle it just fine.


    He''d also thought this attack through more carefully than it seemed.


    The explosion raised a cloud of dust that blocked the bandits'' view, and we took advantage of it. I rushed to the unattended car; set up my turret, and if I could, use the one on the car.


    I was still in the process of deployment when the unkilled victims of the explosion jumped out of the dust cloud and opened fire - on me. They retreated to the wheelbarrow, saw the enemy... "SG and a machine gun, I think" - I automatically noted, restraining the first impulse to seek cover. A second, and the deployment was complete; my shield had sagged, but the accuracy of the bandits'' fire left much to be desired.


    I leapt over the car, taking cover behind it, and, sticking out again for a second, fired a short three-round burst from my own SG, trying to hit both of them.


    Shield battles have their own specifics. Local shields have unlimited (for practical purposes) energy reserves, but blocking incoming damage destabilizes them; the "stability" of a shield can be thought of as its "durability reserve". Once destabilized, the shield projecting device goes into a reboot, or cooldown, something like that, and needs some time to regain protection. Stability is also gradually restored, but under calm conditions; simply, to keep the shield from regenerating, you have to give it no respite. Like... Well, yeah, like in the game. So I tried to prevent my opponents from regenerating shields, while giving my own a chance to regenerate.


    The turret gave a voice, and then a shotgun blast rumbled out as well. And then another.


    I opted to save my ammo.


    "Level up!" - ECHO reported. Definitely for completing a mission... - "You have a new letter!"


    - We have the treasure! - sounded off to the side. I turned sharply - and saw another car pulling away. This one didn''t have a turret; in its place sat a short man in a... gas mask? and was giving me the finger.


    And with his other hand he was holding a familiar crate.


    They stole Claptrap!

 Engineers Skills

    Active skill: Defensive Turret. Creates a fixed turret using a weapon in your hand. The turret has an unlimited duration and a build/deconstruct time of 5 seconds.


    Deconstruction


    First tier


    Dismantling - Increase in armor damage, +5%*skill lv.


    Shieldlessness - Increase damage on shields, +5%*skill lv.


    Second tier


    Acid Mockery - Increase in acid damage, +5%*skill lv.


    Shocking Truth - Increase damage with electricity, +5%*skill lv.


    Explosive Success - Increase damage with explosions, +5%*skill lv.


    Third tier


    Triumph - When enemy killed by a crit, the clip is instantly filled. (While everyone is in shock and brains, seize the opportunity!)


    Fourth tier


    Stash - Extra money when inflicting crit kills.


    Accuracy - Increased drop/rare drop chance of 1% per skill level. 2%*lv. when killing with a crit, 3%*lv. when killing with a single shot.


    Fifth tier


    Precise calculation - Any shot has a chance to be critical (This was on purpose, honest!).


    Construction


    First tier


    Assembler - Reduces turret construction/disassembly time.


    Economy - Reduces ammunition consumption.


    Technical Competency - Increases turret performance.


    Second tier


    From you to me, from me to you - ammo regeneration next to the turret.


    What do we have inside? - When the turret is destroyed, a random drop falls from it, the chance and quality depends on the skill level and character level.


    Third tier


    Bountyful Land - adds a minefield in front of the turret. (Well seeded! Now just wait...).Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Fourth tier


    Modernisation - Adds a turret shield, 10%*ur. of health.


    Tuning - Increases the characteristics of equipment.


    Ammunition Modification - Adds the probability of explosion, shock, or fire to ammunition (does not increase if it is already there).


    Fifth tier


    Standardization - if any characteristics of an item of equipment are below average for its type and level, they are raised to average. (Required minimum!)


    Life Support


    First tier


    Basic Military Training - Health, accuracy, and melee damage increase by 1% per level.


    Field Medic - regenerates 0.5%*skill lv. HP per second.


    Fire Safety Technique - Reduces fire damage and the chance of ignition.


    Second tier


    Thorough Search - more ammo in containers.


    Hoarding - increases the maximum ammo carried and inventory slots.


    Keep your fingers out! - reduces electricity damage and shock chance.


    Third tier


    Fullmetal Shell - the first 25% of health is changed to armor (resistance to normal and fire damage, vulnerability to acid). (Good armor increases survivability! Usually.) or (I''m not tin can! I just want to live.).


    Fourth tier


    Alkali smothering - reduces acid damage and chance of corrosion.


    There''s Only a Moment - increases the duration of the Fight for Life.


    Fifth tier


    You Can''t Go to Heaven with Cargo - In Fight for Life mode, when grenades are maxed out, throwing a grenade expends them all and lifts the character to his feet. (I''m not a shahid!)


    Stroibat''s Ghost.


    First tier.


    Faster, Higher, Stronger! - Increases melee damage, health, and running speed.


    No - and don''t need - increases melee damage for every ammo type at 0 ammo (including grenades) and every empty weapon slot. Increases damage with decreasing health.


    Knight with a Shovel - +1%*skill level probability of absorbing ammunition when using absorbing shield. 1.5%*skill level probability to reflect projectiles when using other types of shields. 100% probability of reflecting projectiles when melee attacking them. Works with grenades.


    Second tier.


    Self-supply - knock out money and ammunition from enemies during a melee attack, the probability and amount depend on the skill.


    Legendary weapon of Vladoff - double-click melee attack forces to use a circular attack, cooldown 10 seconds. Holding and releasing a melee attack throws a shovel, cooldown 15 seconds.


    Fan Technique - Each skill level increases the speed of melee attacks. For each skill level, the melee attacks cooldown decreases by 1 second.


    Third shooting range


    Normative - increases the rate of fire and reload speed of all weapons. Additionally increases the reload speed and accuracy of assault rifles. Additionally increases the reload speed and clip size of Vladoff weapons.


    Three is company - when more than one turret is active, the rate of fire and damage are increased.


    Fourth tier


    Hazing - additionally increases damage with level difference, depending on the skill.


    Old-serviceman - increases health, accuracy, rate of fire, reload speed, maximum ammo, reduces shield lag.


    Fifth tier


    A bit of duct tape - melee attacks become shock attacks if the target lacks shock resistance. Throwing the blade additionally activates the effect of the projectile grenade modifier.

 Visiting Don.

    The bandits'' car had no engine humming at all, which answered one of the questions, "how they managed to sneak up unnoticed". But there were still a lot of questions, and the biggest one was -


    - What the fuck? - I said indignantly.


    - Think of it as a convenient opportunity to get rid of Claptrap, - Jim said. There are some questions for him, too, especially about the unspoken part of his ambush plan, but first things first.


    - It''s one thing to get rid of it yourself, and quite another to be robbed! - While maintaining my indignation, I said. - It''s a useless robot, but it''s my useless robot.


    - Reasonable - Jim agreed.- Well, you''ll have a chance to get even and maybe get it back. I know where they''re taking him, we''re going that way anyway, and now there''s transportation... And by the way. Here.


    "Received an incoming message with an attached archive," said the ECHO. The archive was passwordless, and contained a machine gun - well, or assault rifle, according to the local classification. Just the weapon I have the most ammo for.


    - Now we''re equipped and ready to go, - continued my temporary partner.


    - Still not enough ammo - I said. - And grenades wouldn''t hurt.


    - We''ll take trophies - Jim said. - Can you work on the car?


    - Hmm... - I said. - I''ll see what I can do.


    The promotion after the battle - and probably the completion of the task - gave me another skill point. With a slight grin, I sent it to "Technical Competency" as well. Situationally more profitable, and in the long run not a stupid investment. Although it is unpleasant to be left without a first aid kit.


    Huh. This set of memories was less... bitchy. Just... a hands-on course, I guess.


    And now I can fix coffee makers. And even assemble them out of junk.


    Useful, definitely.


    Finish digesting my new knowledge (there really was a lot of useful stuff in there), I opened the letter.


    "It''s me again, your favorite Gamemaster, aka the Almighty Bastard (I still don''t need to defecate). Normally at level five you''d only have to unlock an active skill, so appreciate the generosity! Not only two extra skill points, but, ta-da! with this letter unlocks the quest log (no automatic markers on the map, haven''t earned it yet). P.S. It''s up to you, of course, but I''d recommend saving Claptrap. Unless you want to get stuck on Pandora."


    Hmm. A very opaque hint, though I can''t imagine what this useless and mass-produced robot could be so important. It could be trolling, but I''d rather not take that chance.


    All right, then. I''ll get to work.


    The turret on this buggy was a lot different than a handheld weapon. It''s just an electromagnetic gun, a gauss gun. "Just" because handguns are actually much more complicated. On the other hand, the old issue came up again: unlike the handheld, this turret reloaded automatically.


    My new skill allowed me to tweak this weapon a bit, but not much (although the power was slightly increased, as well as reliability). The armor was much more substantial.


    Really serious armor, to which my heart lay, the small engine of the "courier", as this machine was called, would not pull if it was made of available materials, but at least something could be done. In its current form, the passengers - in the sense of driver and gunner - had almost no protection; the structure consisted mostly of pipes. Collect scrap metal, digitally build plates from it, attach them in the right places, check the stock of raw materials for digital building bullets... Jim was right, there was plenty to do, and it seriously increased our available firepower, even considering that the bandits had similar vehicles. I guess that''s where my "class" could show itself. If I had a higher "level"... Well, it is what it is.


    - Finished? - Jim asked. He''s got a shield - and apparently a more powerful one than mine - and a gun. I''m guessing he still has at least a sniper in his ECHO. And it was all a bit tense; if anything, it''s going to be harder to deal with him. I think we should stay close to the car - its turret is quite powerful. The other thing is that he realizes it too.


    - As far as it is possible now - I answered. - Even the material is almost no left, but i did what I could. At least, we won''t be afraid of a stray bullet.


    By the way, here''s a question: why doesn''t the machine have its own shield? It''s just weird.


    Slippery explained the situation and the plan while I was tuning. The bandits we''re dealing with are members of a gang called Don Quail. Their base is in an abandoned outpost of the Dahl Corporation; they had a fight with Atlas a couple years ago, then both were attacked by bandits, and eventually they got the outpost and all its contents.


    - But because the bandits are stupid, - Jim reported, as something on the level of "air is transparent," - they don''t know about everything in the captured buildings. They never found the secret armory, they only looted the regular warehouse. Plus Dahl was starting to build a small subway there; apparently they didn''t get there in time, but the service tunnel is in place and can be used to sneak into the outpost unnoticed.


    - Hmm. You know a lot, - I remarked.


    - Well, I was a bit involved in those events - said the adventurer sitting behind the wheel. - Hyperion loves and knows how to pit opponents against each other, and they knows how to gather information too. If Pandora will eventually belong to someone, it will be either them or the skags. The skags, of course, is better.


    In theory, stealthy infiltration is best done at night. In practice, because of my night vision and the sleep cycle of the local inhabitants, the time of day didn''t matter. Plus the fact that I feared for Claptrap - if I were the bandit, I''d probably shoot him almost immediately after opening the box.


    In the end, we set off as we were. I did take care of the disguise, though; the hum of the engine was muffled, and Slippery and I wore the masks that the local bandits liked. The point is not to hide your face, but to keep your face from standing out.


    It worked. One time we came across a bandit buggy, however they ignored us.


    The terrain quickly became more and more bumpy and hilly; then we began to see the remains of buildings of some kind.


    - There were farmers here when Dahl was here, - Slippery explained. - Now it''s bandits, and so on.


    - Coprorations are a good fertilizer for growth, - I said. - Except that all sorts of things fly on it.


    - That''s a good point, Jim agreed. - Coprorations, heh... And in the end it''s the adventurers who reap the harvest.


    - I guess so.


    The bandit''s lair was housed in a building on a hill that was visible from afar, still generally white, though the current occupants had covered the walls with graffiti, and you could see soot stains even from a distance. Our path, however, lay to one of the ruins scattered around.


    At first glance, it was just a pile of rocks with a lonely wall standing alone. Jim, however, after critically examining what was available, began carefully pulling out the stones. In spite of his lack of large muscles, he lifted the large stones without noticeable effort. Gradually, a passage was formed among the stones; looking at me, he removed a few more stones.


    Behind the narrow passage was a narrow tunnel with concrete walls, lit by the dim red lights of the "eternal illumination" on the walls. It was cool here, but after the heat upstairs it was even pleasant.


    I wasn''t going to relax, though. Even Jim had to be wary, and there were bandits here.


    - Grr!


    I reacted ahead of my thoughts to a low growl from somewhere to the side. My hand raised a reliable weapon... No, not a trained shotgun.


    I swung the shovel, slicing open the jaws of a skag leaping from a niche in the wall. The small carcass fell to the floor, bleeding.


    - I feel a little awkward, - I muttered, looking at the collar and bow around the beast''s neck.


    - Vladoff''s still keeps traditions? - Jim chuckled, glancing down at the shovel. - Yeah, that was awkward with the pet. He didn''t raise any alarms, but we''d better hurry before the owner misses us.


    Some pipes, some still-working equipment... It''s an interesting level of technology in this world. It looks pretty primitive, but it''s actually quite advanced, and can run without maintenance for a very long time.


    Jim glanced occasionally at the holographic map projected by his ECHO; he didn''t seem to have ''augmented reality'', or rather it was more limited. At one point he stopped and kicked the wall.


    - That''ll do. Your exit.


    We talked about infiltration options beforehand, and eventually settled on using my skills; even at my current level, my class gave enough options and tools.


    Activating the right license. A couple of seconds, and a drill appeared in my hand, which began to make holes in the wall with a quiet hum. A hole, another hole, another... A rectangle about two meters high made of drilled holes.


    Then the drill disappeared, and in Jim''s hand appeared a grenade from Malwan, with characteristic green stripes, which he handed to me.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.- Now we''d better get back - I said already on the run.


    The technology of matter digitization has its own set of limitations, otherwise it would have been used instead of weapons long ago. Area of influence, speed, and so on and so forth... Just to take and digitize a piece of solid wall is not that impossible, but with the power of ECHO it would take probably twenty-four hours, and well if not Pandorian. But if you first split the stone into separate fragments, and partially dissolve it all... The explosion would raise the alarm, but the corrosive grenade works almost silently. And the multiple drill holes have a greater effect.


    I have no idea how the local "elemental" weapons fundamentally work, but it''s possible to use them.


    The walls were thick, and one grenade wasn''t enough. Fortunately, Jim''s ECHO had four of them, so in the end they even had some left.


    The first thing I saw on the other side of the wall was a huge, three meters high, door made of an incomprehensible material. It looked like metal, but it wasn''t... The light gray surface was stained, but it was still smooth. But the bare walls around it were quite shabby and covered with drawings and inscriptions. With a lots of grammatical errors.


    There was also a staircase leading upstairs. And that was it.


    Jim went to the door, glanced around, and grimaced.


    - Shit. No power, those stupid thugs broke something after all. - He glanced at the schematic that appeared above his ECHO. - We need to start the backup generator. Without power, the door can''t be opened. There''s a problem, though - it''s in the main building, so there''s no way to run it unnoticed, most likely.


    He bit his lower lip and tapped his finger on the ECHO.


    - Hmm. Here''s an idea. Why not turn this problem into an opportunity?


    I frowned.


    - What do you mean?


    - We''ve got an armory - he jabbed a finger toward a large door - a straight, well-shot passageway - a poke toward the stairs - lots of bandits, and turrets. As I recall from my time working for Vladoff, your turrets are completely digital, no unique core? You could build as many as you wanted, as long as you had the materials? - I nodded. - Here we go. You prepare the firepower, I''ll lure the dead to it. And cover the rear. Maybe.


    I didn''t like his "maybe," but it seemed like a reasonable plan. There were two things... First, I only had infinite ammo for one turret. I could copy Vladoff''s ammunition digitalization module, but there was a risk that my machinations would be detected in the warehouse. However, the armory should have a good stock of ammo blocks, so it''s solvable. But the second thing...


    - Grenades could be a problem, - I grimaced. - And even worse if they have grenade launchers. I could set up a few echelons, - I jabbed my thumb in the direction of the passage we''d come from, - but there''s a good chance they''d all be wrecked and we''d lose the loot. My turrets are pretty flimsy.


    Oh, yeah. Also the realization of Vladoff''s ideas - we take quantity, not quality. Although with the increase of "Technical Competency" skill the situation improved a bit, but my DUMB turrets were still flimsy: there are no quality materials, the frame is made of ordinary iron rebar. They should have shields...


    - I''m willing to go for it - Jim chuckled. - Destroying the bandits is a good thing in itself, plus, knowing Dahl, there''ll be more than just guns in the armory. When I start the generator, I''ll transmit the code to the door on your ECHO. Put me on a live feed so I can check out exactly what was there for the booty split on the results. In fact, I''m hoping to get a full sweep of the place. Don Quail owes me a debt, and I intend to collect it....


    - If that''s the case, I''m all for it," I nodded. I still need to get Claptrap back... I hope he hasn''t been irreversibly destroyed.


    I started setting up the turrets as soon as Jim slid silently up the stairs. The weapons I have are mediocre, but one of Vladoff''s slogans is "Quantity goes to quality". It''s true, there''s no point in building too many, and I don''t have enough materials... And I have a limited number of guns.


    I decided to keep Jim''s assault rifle and Ozhogov''s fire pistol. The rest of the stuff went to work.


    Suddenly lights flashed on the door and on the wall beside it; and then, a few seconds apart, two things happened.


    "You have a new message," announced the ECHO.


    A siren sounded through the building.


    "Set up as much as you can and wait for guests. The key is in the appendix."


    I wouldn''t have been surprised if the key had turned out to be a real key, digitally constructed according to the diagram sent, but it turned out to be electronic nonetheless. The door began to open with a quiet hum, revealing bins, racks, and cabinets... actually, much smaller than I would have liked.


    Whatever. As agreed, I turned on the live feed and recording, and hurriedly set about cleaning out the vault. Most of everything go into my ECHO, some ammo into the turrets.


    ...Shit. Some of the containers were locked. Nothing significant, I could probably open if I had the time, but there was a problem with it.


    - Hey, idiots! - Jim''s voice came from the loudspeakers from somewhere above, from behind the walls, but it was clearly audible. - It''s me, Slippery Jim, and I''ve come to retrieve the treasure that''s been under your noses, you idiots. I''m gonna tell you twice because you ain''t got the brains to understand the first time. You had the Dahl arsenal and treasury in your basement, and I had the keys to it, and right now I''m raking out all the valuables. Adieu, assholes, enjoy the feeling of missed treasure.


    Damn. You could''ve waited a little longer.


    There was a stomping sound from the stairs, followed by the sound of gunfire.


    - Argh!


    - Biter, biter!


    - I''ll make a fur coat out of you!


    The bandits reacted immediately to Jim''s provocation, and though my turrets mowed down the first group almost immediately, the next group was able to return fire, taking cover behind the corpses of their comrades. They fired sporadically and not accurately, but still one of the turrets shimmered, and another broke off a support that had been hit by a lucky shot. I was rapidly shoveling the contents of the armory into the slots of my ECHO; like Jim had said, it looked like there was some sort of treasury here, because in addition to weapons, ammo, and armor components, I found wads of money. Well, like stacks... Thin stacks. The outpost was obviously not rich, and the weapons were not of the highest quality (still better than mine...).


    That''s it, I can''t get any more out fast enough.


    I leaned out of the vault with my new shotgun in my hand, and fired a volley at a tall bandit with an axe swinging at the turret.


    Then I ran down the passageway to the exit.


    One more volley, dive into the tunnel, and start the digit-building program.


    - It''s Don Quail! - The new voice was louder, and with a noticeable growl. - Whoever brings me Slippery''s head gets twenty... no, ten percent of the treasure! And for his heart, a dozen vegetarian pies from our favorite chef, Jadreny. With jelly!


    - Yum! - another voice intervened.


    - You heard the man! - Don bellowed again.


    - Grr...


    The last sound came from the other side of the tunnel.


    It seemed that the comrades of the murdered (not innocently) skag had come to visit, to avenge him....


    And then - what I was afraid of: the rumble of an explosion. Local grenades aren''t really loud, but indoors...


    The sonic boom and blast wave didn''t hurt me, or even stun me (again, thank goodness for an improved body...), but a couple of damaged turrets were completely out of commission. The others had taken some damage too, but they were still holding back the bandits, who were still being processed into mincemeat; and I had to make my way to the exit.


    I fired my shotgun at the sound, reloaded, and fired again at the skag that came into view. Another volley, into the jumping maw. At the next one. Another shot, use the turret support to reload. Shake off the spit, kick the leaping skag, put a shot in at point-blank range. Turn around at the sound and shoot the bandit, turn around again, and shoot the skag.


    A throw of the axe nullified the shield and knocked me down, onto the skag''s carcass. Bullets whizzed over me, hitting the still-living beast as it jumped; the bleeding carcass fell on top of me. I rose, covering myself with it; volley, crouch, stack the carcass, creating cover. Another grenade exploded; there were almost no turrets left, no skags either. Salvo, reload; the shield reloaded and began to stabilize. A couple seconds, and a rush forward through the tunnel.


    The bullet knocked down the shield, which had barely had time to regenerate. I''d have to get a more powerful one; no luck, I didn''t have one in my arsenal.


    But there was something else.


    A shot into skag, and the shotgun in my hand was replaced by the tube of a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. The eyes of a couple of bandits pointing guns at me from the other end of the tunnel widened.


    - Oops... - someone said distinctly.


    - Oops indeed, - I agreed, sending a rocket - a rocket-propelled grenade - flying. - And Taubin is his prophet.


    Unlike the hand grenades, the blast was palpable now. It pushed me in the back, but it didn''t knock me down; the rumble was still surprisingly acceptable, too. The shield is reloading, but no enemies are in sight, but the exit is right in front of me. Changing my weapon to an assault rifle, I made my way out into the hole ...


    ...In place of our car was a melted lump of metal. And not far away stood a huge man - three meters tall, not a meter and a half in shoulders, and at least a meter thick. With two green Malivan machine guns in his hands. And on his shoulder sat... a monkey? With six limbs, four of which were juggling grenades. Uh, no, instead of one grenade, it was a pie.


    "Don Quail and his tamed bullywang Mary Jane, - reported the ECHO. - "Sweet couple."


    Oops.


    Karma is such a bitch.

 Jacobs weighty word.

    Probably the only thing that saved me was that the gang boss was looking the other way at that moment. And that gave me an opportunity not to be missed.


    A mental command to ECHO, and the machine gun in my hands changed back to a grenade launcher. Sight, trigger...


    The monkey roared. The bandit turned around unexpectedly rapidly, especially for such a big body; however, the rocket had already go off, and the distance between us was quite small...


    Don opened fire, trying to shoot down the grenade; its velocity is quite low, and its size is not so small, so it is quite realistic. And if he got it in time, the explosion would cover the shooter - me.


    Fortunately, he missed.


    Unfortunately, so did I.


    The grenade launcher I had was not very accurate; the deviation of the grenade from the aiming axis, according to the ECHO evaluation, was a good 20 degrees, and it was unpredictable, so there was no way to correct it, and I had to rely on luck.


    And I had only two rockets, the ammunition of the grenade launcher itself, there were no additional ones in the arsenal.


    Of course, I didn''t stand still, especially knowing that. Dash behind the remnants of the walls that provide some cover. Changing guns.


    Grenade!


    As soon as I noticed the dark object flying over the wall, I changed my direction of movement - reflex again, ahead of thought.


    I was still on a roll when a monkey - bullywang - jumped over the wall. Smirking at me, it picked up a bun and stuffed it into its mouth, which was visually somewhere in the middle of its body, and then tossed an actual grenade in my direction.


    Fuck.


    I got lucky again. First of all, while the grenade was definitely more powerful than the ones the bandits used, it wasn''t very powerful, and it wasn''t fragmentation either (maybe so they wouldn''t kill themselves in the corridors?). And secondly, the explosion was still powerful enough to throw me aside - from a double line of corrosive bullets scouring the air nearby.


    I fired a short burst from my own assault rifle, but the movement and the powerful recoil caused only one bullet to slip more by accident than by chance, just missing her shield. Uh-huh, she had a shield, and it seemed to be more powerful than mine. If mine was fully charged and stable.


    For the next few seconds, I had no opportunity to counterattack. All I could do was maneuver to avoid being hit; fortunately, the ruins of the buildings provided ample cover. Explosions and corrosive bullets kept destroying them, but the bullywang was primarily a problem: the small, agile creature leapt over the walls without noticeable effort, and its grenades seemed to be endless. The explosions didn''t really hurt me, and what did hurt me was absorbed by the armor, but it didn''t allow my shield to regenerate. And I was afraid that time wasn''t playing out for me: if I didn''t run out of cover, either a couple of enemies would catch me - one mobility-limiting wound might be enough - or they''d get reinforcements, and that would be the end of me. I obviously didn''t have a few seconds to set up the turret, either.


    A shot came from somewhere above, and it wasn''t the hissing pop of Don''s machine gun. The bullywang that had jumped onto the next wall was thrown aside; its shield sagged, and then disappeared completely, along with part of the red bar representing its physical state - "health".


    The animal roared in pain. Where the shot had come from could only be judged by the direction of the recline; and it seemed to have been fired from the roof of the former Dahl outpost.


    I had just had time to think of this, when


    - Mary Jane!


    The nearest wall shattered as Don slammed into it like a truck out of control, nearly sending me into the next world... again. Luckily, he didn''t even seem to notice me.


    Boom! The third shot finally brought up the right association from the depths of my character''s memory archives. A sniper rifle, from Jacobs - only they''re so loud.


    Don covered the bullywang with his body - or rather, his shields. The blue streak shrank by a power of a quarter.


    - SLIPPERY ON THE ROOF! GET HIM, BOYS! - roared the bandit, firing two lines toward Jim''s presumed location. I, however, did not look closely; Don had emptied the magazines of his guns, and now, while he was reloading and covering the bullywang, he was a perfect stationary target.


    Fire a clip from my own machine gun at him. Immediately roll over, changing weapons, and empty a clip from the shotgun. Repeat with the SG... Don''s shield went down, but he returned fire.


    I was hit; the corrosive bullet quickly penetrated the armor on my leg and began to eat away at my flesh, but I felt almost no pain. Don certainly didn''t either.


    ...When the next bullet from the sniper rifle pierced his arm, however, he still couldn''t hold the machine gun. Wrenched by the recoil, the gun flew out of the bandit''s grip and fell to the ground.


    Given my previous experience with local bandits, it would be difficult to penetrate this mountain of meat with small-caliber submachine gun bullets, but Jim''s shot gave me an idea.


    My accuracy, especially in these conditions, left a lot to be desired, but the rapidity of my weapon and the fact that Don still had his pet''s back played in my favor.


    ...Shit. Don''s thick, long-sleeved overcoat seemed to be providing him with a good amount of protection. A high-powered sniper rifle pierce through it, but my pea-shooter....


    And yet it all worked out as planned. Well, almost.


    The bullets knocked sparks out of Don''s gun, and the weapon jammed.


    The next moment I was thrown back by a powerful blow as something slammed into my chest... a machine gun. Don threw the ruined machine gun at me.


    The impact was quite sensitive; something crunched in my chest. And, of course, Don was not unarmed; a new assault rifle was formed in his hand from blue lines and rectangles.


    I, too, however, had time to change weapons. To a pistol, a Jacobs weapon that had come from the Dahl''s arsenal. The smooth black metal of the two barrels, the polished wood of the curved grip, and a drum for four shots. Two shots by two bullets at a time, mediocre accuracy, and a very awkward and long in-fight reload.


    And a powerful recoil, as I immediately found out - stronger than the Dahl shotgun had.


    Still, I held the weapon, and immediately fired a second shot.


    I guess I''m lucky today, after all. I aimed for the arm to disarm the enemy, but when the barrel twitched, the bullets from my thunderstick went higher and to the left. Right in the neck.


    Don''s neck was covered by the armored coat, too, but the caliber of the pistol was larger than the SG, and Jacobs wasn''t a Dahl, the killing power was much higher. The bandit wheezed and fell, clutching at his neck.


    The bullywang screamed, and forgetting both her own wound and the grenades, rushed at me. I didn''t have time to reload, but the shovel was still at hand. A blow, and the beast''s leap was thwarted; another, and the sharpened blade sank into flesh. A final sob, and Mary Jane froze; her status bar drops to zero.


    Perhaps I might even have felt sorry for the pair if it weren''t for the set of human skulls on Don''s belt (and a couple at bullywang''s), each with "Death to meat-eaters!" written on it.


    "Level up!"


    The pain in his ribs and leg disappeared. However, as much as I wanted to quickly invest the skill point I had earned, there was no time to do so: the boss was finished, but there were still the usual bandits.


    And as I looked up, I noticed several human figures appearing in the distance, on the roof. Jim had my back, now it was up to me to cover him....


    ...Or not. Rising to my feet and making sure that the leg damaged by the corrosive bullet was actually working properly, I ran towards the outpost, reloading my assault rifle as I went and taking in what was happening on the roof. The bandits surrounded a figure with a long-barreled rifle hiding at the very top of the domed roof; I took aim, as best I could at the distance and with a mediocre gun, but not in time.


    The bandits rushed forward, apparently trying to take the enemy alive - and then there was an explosion, the epicenter of which was the figure with the rifle.


    ...Nah. I instantly calmed down. Slippery is definitely not such the man, even the nickname implies. I don''t know what exactly happened, but I don''t believe in the heroic death of this rascal. I''ve only known him for a short time, but I''ve made an impression.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.    In general, I''ll assume that he''s unharmed, and quietly continue to fulfill the task: to save Claptrap and take out everything of value.


    First of all, I found a shelter and opened the status of my character - where, to my surprise, I found not one, but two skill points. The level, accordingly, was also 7, not 6. At some point I took a level and didn''t even notice it; probably when the turrets were shooting off bandits. Well, or they gave me two at once for the "sweet couple".


    Either way, I was once again in the throes of choice, compounded by the continued urgency. And the fact that there were two points made things worse rather than easier.


    ...Ah, fuck it. Basic military training and Field Medic. After all, you need to evolve harmoniously, and it''s not always possible to set up a turret. I put in the points, and...


    - And what will you do if your comrade''s leg is blown off, eh? - hummed the instructor. - Medical engineers.


    - No way... - my neighbor ahhed, lowering his gaze to the holster with duct tape.


    It would probably be most accurate to compare it to an explosion in my head. Almost instantly - or even actually instantly - the discomfort disappeared, but the year and a half of training that had suddenly appeared in my memory left a strong impression.


    - Harsh... - I muttered. - And useful.


    The ECHO also beeped, announcing an incoming e-mail.


    "Sender: Vlad''s Supply Service."


    It made me nervous for a moment, but I immediately calmed down when I read the next line.


    "Subject: Field Medic graduate starter kit." It probably not because of the turret ammo, but because of the skill taken.


    "Vladoff''s Supply Service apologizes for a minor technical issue that delayed your receipt of the starter kit you were entitled to upon completion of your Field Medicine course. We hope that this 1 year 2 months 3 days 4 hours wait did not cause you any serious problems. We strive for the fastest delivery!"


    - At least they would compensate somehow, heirs of the Russia''s Post - I hummed. - Although if it''s because of skill, it''s not their fault....


    Actually, it was already a bonus. I expected that I would have to purchase resources to digitally build a first aid kit first, but everything I needed was attached to the letter.


    The Vladoff''s field first aid kit was not what one might expect: it was a flexible metal bracelet. A case, a computer with a rudimentary AI specialized for diagnostics, and an equally simple and specialized module for digital constructing drugs. Plus an injector. Simple, reliable, and efficient - much more efficient than one might think. This thing, combined with the biology and physiology of the modern man, is able to raise even a dying man to his feet, in general. Pure corporate economy: it is cheaper to heal a soldier - a qualified soldier, not just cannon fodder - than to train a new one. Plus no equipment is lost.


    Other corporations have slightly different math, but Vladoff''s economists calculated it this way. Mostly because we have historically cheaper medicine.


    In any case, this is an extremely useful acquisition, especially since I am now capable of something even without a first aid kit (and clearly realize the importance of hygiene on unexplored planets).


    The second skill is also very useful, though less straightforward. A year of "basic military training" has taught me to shoot more accurately, to take cover better, to avoid shots better... A lot of things.


    Lots of little things that can save my life and keep my enemy from saving his.


    Bonus - paint mixing and painting skills. For applying camouflage coloring.


    With all of this, and with my shield restored, I felt much more confident, and confidently headed away from the outpost. I left bandit leader''s corpse still unlooted, after all.


    Unfortunately, I was disappointed - partially. Don''s shield was damaged, as was the machine gun I''d shot; I used both for materials. From the left I got two assault rifles, bullywang''s shield, and Don''s ECHO, which I was sure had something useful in it.


    Unfortunately, the device was locked after the owner''s death, and I had neither the skills nor the equipment to unlock it at the moment. Still, I took the device. It''s small in size, and it might be possible to open it. At the very least, I could hardreset it, deleting all its contents, or sell it to someone as is.


    I never figured out where bullywang got the grenades from.


    Finished with the arsenal replenishment, I cast a glance in the direction of the most likely caved in by explosion underground passage and headed towards the outpost. After the turret massacre and the rooftop explosion, plus the death of their boss, it wasn''t likely to be crowded. Rather, one should worry about the remaining ones scattering, taking everything of value. Better hurry up.


    ...Here we go.


    A car of familiar design flew out of the open gate; I didn''t see the shooter this time, only the driver. I couldn''t see him either - the car sped away.


    Hmm.


    In front of the entrance, behind the wall, were three more buggies. Probably all the guards were busy - or dead - so I took the opportunity. The turret could be operated from the driver''s seat, but I took position a more comfortable for shooting.


    Just in time. Two bandits ran out of the building at once; one of them had a shotgun and an axe, the other one had an automatic rifle. And an axe.


    Both turned into mincemeat before they could do anything - maybe even spot me. My stance doesn''t do well with defense, so the best defense is elimination before they jump.


    What happened next was surprisingly easy. Every now and then one or two bandits appeared, I shot, using the almost inexhaustible ammunition of the turret, repeat.


    Eventually a stream of exp... uh, why am I being so dismissive about them. Experience and trophies, I mean. Anyway, the bandits eventually ran out.


    Everything comes to an end. Even Pandoran bandits.


    In fact, it was quite possible that they were still inside the building. Either they''d realized something was wrong and decided to be cautious, or like that time I''d met Jim, they were drunk and had completely missed the whole mess going on nearby.


    Just in case, I set up my turret near the entrance to the building and cautiously made my way inside.


    It was inside that I appreciated the value of Basic Military Training. Where before I would have passed by without a second thought, I could now see possible ambush sites.


    And once there was one.


    The two dwarves with sawaxes would have stood a good chance if I didn''t have that skill. One tried to chop my legs off, while the other jumped down from above, aiming for my head, but their combination failed. A couple shots, and Jacobs'' gun proved its killing power again, piercing through heads.


    ...I''m becoming completely desensitized to killing. On the other hand, it''s self-defense, and there''s no other way to survive on Pandora. And there''s some doubt about the reality of this world and its inhabitants, despite the Almighty Bastard''s letter.


    - What''s taking so long?! - Claptrap asked indignantly. I cracked him detachedly with my shovel, looking at the other two "inhabitants" of the room in which I had found the noisy robot. From the look of them - the barrels in their mouths - they''d killed themselves.


    I glanced over at Claptrap.


    - Oh! I mean, boss, I knew you wouldn''t leave your treasure in the hands of dirty bandits!


    - Something like this, - I said. I looked at the bandits again, and decided I didn''t want to know. - Let''s get out of here and get out of here.


    - It''s Loot time! - shouted the robot with joy. - This is what I was born to do! Well... Not exactly born, and not exactly for this, but STILL!


    Shouting happily, he immediately set about the task; the pistols disappeared from the corpses'' hands, and then Claptrap pushed one of them to the floor from the crate he was sitting on and started pulling cartridge blocks out of it.


    - It''s loot time - I nodded in agreement. And then... What was it Jim''s ex said, Moxie, like?


    Yellowrock?


    That''s where I''ll head if I can''t find Slippery.

 Large calibers women.

    When I returned to the armory, the locked containers were open and empty. Which didn''t surprise me, really: I bet Jim had been here. And it''s a safe bet that the most valuable items were in them.


    And I can''t even make any claims against him. He could have slipped away, but instead he gave me cover from the roof; if it hadn''t been for that, the fight with Don would have turned out very differently.


    In the end, I don''t have much to complain about. A thorough sweep of the bandit base had made me considerably richer - though most of that "wealth" was in the form of trophy weapons that could be sold, but Claptrap had managed to find a few bandit stashes as well - and replenished my ammunition supply considerably. The armor was not only repaired, but also modernized, and as a cherry on the cake - in the yard I found a working buggy. Well, almost working, but it wasn''t hard to repair.


    Let''s go to Yellowrock.


    ...I almost missed out on some good money. I was about to leave when the words "bounty on my head" flashed through Claptrap''s chatter, automatically filtered by my mind from the general flow.


    It turned out that there was a reward for Don and his bullywang - ECHOnet users had crowdfounded it. So I got out of the buggy and went back to the scene of the fight for proof. Got the liquidation fee, and separately for the heads... there was even a small impromptu auction for them. Then I had to scrape them off and digitize them. A messy business, especially with bullywang because of her anatomy, but money is money...


    ...Pandora is a bad influence on me.


    There''s a rock sticking out of the ground, clearly visible from afar, and everything around it is covered in yellow sand. I think I know why this place was named that.


    I quickly noticed the name board at the top of this geologic formation, too; it served as the top rung on a pair of posts on the sides of the cliff leading to the top... well, let''s call it a road.


    And underneath the name board, two more were pinned up. One had the word "Wellcum" scrawled in white paint, and the other had two signs: "Fight Arena Open!" and "Visit Moxie''s Bar!". Well, well. It''s worth a visit for several reasons.


    This... The settlement was not a place of residence, but a kind of cultural center, and i ask the word "cultural" forgive me for that. Simply here were concentrated establishments, to which relatively peaceful residents of Pandora came to relax and spend money - or make money, it is also possible. The only permanent residents here were the maintenance staff and the owners of a few of these establishments.


    This was already evident from a quick look around the relatively populated area, which consisted of only a few buildings.


    I locked the engine of the buggy and got out of it, heading for the bar. It was impossible not to recognize the right building due to the neon glowing signs on it, "Bar Loneliness".


    I had only managed to take a couple steps when a rumbling sound came from the bar. The double doors swung open with a bang, and a short but very broad man in a green bowler hat flew out, spattering blood from a wound on his ruptured chest. Despite this, he attempted to stand up; the locals is very sturdy, as evidenced by the streak above his head demonstrated by the ECHO, which was only a third empty.


    And then she came out of the bar.


    Followed by her owner.


    ...Well, technically, the first one to appear was a red shotgun in the hands of a woman, but that doesn''t matter.


    - I''m proud of my caliber!, sweetheart! - announced a slender woman dressed in a purple dress, with the same-color cylinder on her head, with an overabundance of makeup on her face, and fired again.


    ...The calibers is indeed large.


    "Mad Moxie. Don''t mess with her..." - my Echo said.


    Maybe I shouldn''t go in there.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.    Unfortunately, she''s already spotted me.


    - Ho? Jim''s buddy? Come on in, sugar. - She turned toward the bar. - And somebody, clean up outside.


    It wasn''t so bad inside. For Pandora, it was even great. Music, dim lights, people drinking or talking to each other... At one table a guy was kissing a girl of indeterminate age sitting on his lap.


    - Moxie, you''re still as beautiful as ever! - said the robot next to me. - And your calibers is still just as impressive!


    - And you''re still just as much of a tattletale, - the hostess said, relaxed, as if she hadn''t just shot someone. - But thank you, that''s nice of you.


    At the far end of the building, I noticed a familiar face. As expected...


    Jim waved at me.


    - Have a chat, boys, and then come over to me - Moxie said. - For a more... intimate acquaintance.


    I raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and headed over to Slippery''s table.


    - Good to see you again, buddy! - he said, smiling broadly. - How did Don like my parting gift?


    - Mostly his people, - I said, sitting down. - They were overjoyed. Don was blown away, too, though. Bottom line.


    Jim nodded sagely.


    - It was as planned. Sharing the spoils?


    - Including the ones in the locked containers? - I asked. He nodded.


    - Fair enough.


    In the locked containers, in addition to some money and a couple of premium guns - Slippery took a sniper, I took a shotgun - there was something that Slippery was aiming for from the beginning.


    The fact of the matter was that the Dahl outpost we''d robbed was, in fact, a spy intercept station, collecting Hyperion service information. According to the adventurer''s estimate, even though it was somewhat outdated, these archives could be sold to Hyperion''s competitors for a handsome sum.


    I didn''t really like the idea of reminding my theoretical superiors of myself, but I had no other sales channels, and money is money, as I''ve already mentioned. I ended up surrendering some of my trophies in exchange for data and a shotgun.


    Of course, Jim screwed me.


    For better or worse? Which one''s the bad one?


    Oh, both.


    - It''s garbage, - I informed him calmly, taking a quick look at the data. I was expecting something like that, so I stayed perfectly calm.


    - That''s what you get, buddy, - said Jim, who was busy selling guns through the ECHO. - But it''s not how useful the information is, it''s how much you can get it for. I just got a good deal, now it''s your turn.


    I sighed and nodded. Okay, I''ll make a compilation and then offer it to someone in Vladoff...


    - Okay, con man, be happy. Who knows, maybe we''ll work together again.


    He waved his hand absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the holographic screen projected by his ECHO, and I got up from the table.


    And now - gals.


    In fact, I couldn''t bring myself to call Moxie a "gal". Despite the excess of makeup on her face - so much so that I mentally compared it to clown makeup, or rather theatrical makeup - something else came up.


    I mean not only respect for the impressive collection of guns behind the bar.


    - Have a seat, sugar - with the same languid notes in her voice with which she shot that big guy, Moxie said. - I don''t bite... during working hours.


    - Pandora... - I muttered, sitting down on one of the free chairs in front of the counter. Moxie hesitated a little, but then nodded.


    - Yes, our planet... makes an impression on guests, Mister Vladoff''s Sales Representative.


    I raised an eyebrow questioningly.


    - Marcus Kincaid is my ex-husband - she explained. - We communicate from time to time.


    I chuckled to myself. Something will have to be done with this local monopolist as well.


    - I see - I said instead. - So, how can I help? Whatever Jim says, take the money for the doll from him - it was his idea.


    - Already - the woman smiled slightly. - And what about how to help... I have something to do for a strong, attractive man... - she glanced at me - not afraid to release a hot charge at the first meeting... and with good technical knowledge.


    Looks like I''ll have to kill someone and build something.


    Everything is as usual.

 Little secrets of a big company.

    Moxie really knows how to satisfy a man. I got out of bed relaxed and satisfied. She was hot in the evening...


    The bath, I mean.


    Moxie''s bar had a couple of "guest" rooms. Dinner, more or less normal, not a piece of crap, a bathroom, and a comfortable bed... Five hundred damn bucks, but I didn''t regret them. Fortunately, as a result of the cleanup of the bandits, I earned something around two thousand. It would have been more, but I gave almost half of the weapons to Jim - he pretty accurately estimated how many trophies I managed to take.


    - What a woman! She has a talent for erotic massage... - Claptrap, who unceremoniously rolled into the room, said contentedly. I glanced sideways at him, raising an eyebrow, but ultimately decided to ignore him as usual.


    I''d better go find out how much breakfast will cost me and get to work. Plus... Perhaps I should ask Moxie what she knows about the Vault.


    - You owe me fifty for maintenance and an oil change, sugar - Moxie said. I looked at her questioningly, and she pointed her finger at Claptrap, who was spinning around in front of the mirror.


    - Claptrap - I said calmly. - I know you have your own money, so pay for your own cosmetic procedures. And if you do it again without warning, I will open your inventory system and take everything you have hoarded there. If I can''t crack the coding, I will just throw it away.


    The robot jumped.


    - Of course, of course, boss! - he said hastily. - No need for such extreme measures! Here, Miss Moxie, please...


    He stuck the manipulator into a crack on his "belly", in the lower part of the body, and took out several bills, which he handed to Moxie, driving up to her.


    - You learn quickly, sugar - Moxie noted, turning to me.


    - In my profession, the survival rate is low among those who do not know how to do this - I said. She nodded.- So what''s up with breakfast?


    After breakfast - yeah, the money''s flying away... - and turning down the offer to participate in the arena battle, which Moxie seemed to be doing more symbolically - I got down to more important matters: work and the Vault.


    - So you want to become a Vault Hunter, nut? - Moxie asked. - No offense, but that''s an occupation for the most reckless and notorious adventurers, and you don''t look like one.


    I winced.


    - I''m not try to. I have, let''s say, a forced interest. And no, not related to Vladoff. Personal. If it were up to me, I wouldn''t get involved, but we have what we have. At least I know for sure that the Vault exists.


    Moxie nodded.


    - On Pandora, someone always has a stranger story than anything you''ve heard before - she noted. - I might have some information for you, sugar. After you do my job.


    Her assignment was fairly straightforward, and the problems with it were obvious - although, of course, there could always be some hidden catch. Simply put, I needed to install several vending machines in certain relatively popular locations. Having first exterminated the local fauna that could interfere with the installation process or damage the installed equipment. Moxie served as a subcontractor in this case - she took on the task of finding an executor for several interested parties, plus provided large-size digital construction equipment that will allow digital construction of machines on site, instead of physically transporting them. I wonder where she got this from?..


    The immediate customers were Dr. Zed, the guy who ran the medical and shield trade, Marcus Kincaid, who I still had to deal with (and if the order had come from him alone, I''d be sure it was a set-up), and a Scooter who rented cars. Actually, his vending machine was itself digitally building equipment for large facilities, artisanally produced. I didn''t know anyone on Pandora could manufacture such a thing.


    Probably, in the local mess they managed to get the necessary license.


    In any case, the equipment Moxie lent me was quite bulky and valuable, so I checked its functionality beforehand, so I wouldn''t be charged for the "broken" one, and took care of the protective container for it. There''s a minimum of fragile parts, and the case itself is solid, but this is Pandora, here bullets flying instead of mosquitoes, and skag burp eats through armor.


    - Baby, why are you so cold to me? - wailed Claptrap, wheeling around the digit-building rig as I loaded it onto the trailer. - We would have made such a wonderful couple, you and I....


    - Wail on the radio, - I said, as he was out of range of the shovel. - And get in, I''ve left room for you.


    If only Claptrap could be entrusted with at least controlling the machine... Alas, the robot remained for the most part categorically useless. So I didn''t have time to go through the Hyperion''s files and select a few that would be interesting enough for the Vladoff. I expected to find some during the installation of the equipment, though.


    Arrive on site, set up a few turrets, wait for them to take care of the skags, do the installation... It''s a piece of cake. You don''t even need an engineer to do that, except to fix it if someone messes up what''s already in place.


    Moxie''s machine was logging the job as well. So far, everything was fair, and as I''d hoped, there was time to look at the files.


    Chatter from someone''s secretary about personal matters. Conversations between technical staff... maybe the analysts could catch something valuable, but in my opinion, nothing. A discussion about the best men''s thong? Seriously? Some sort of virt-game streaming. Holy shit, is there anything useful in here?


    I mean, comparable with such trash even the some skag-cooking recipes which i found here looked valuable.


    Oops, unencrypted license file... shit, it is for the toilet.


    Oh, damn. It''s gonna take a specialized AI to go through all this garbage, I guess.


    Wait a minute. ECHO has some kind of AI, if not the same AI.


    "ECHO, can you sort the files by content?"


    "Request acknowledged. Please specify sorting criteria."


    §°. A glimmer of hope.


    "Importance and interest to potential buyers," I reported. And after a moment''s thought, I added, remembering the recipes:


    "And to me personally."


    "Copy that. Proceeding with the sorting."


    Even the AI needed some time to sort through that much information garbage, so for now I cleared the neighborhood of skag carcasses - a pity, but there wasn''t enough to level me up - and set about installing the automatons. All three should stand in the neighborhood - I came for a wheelbarrow, at the same time stocked up on ammo, and maybe bought a new gun or shield. In fact, I need a new shield myself. I''ll see what''s on offer, I need to check it out anyway.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.    "Sorting is over" - said the ECHO, when I made sure that the shields here are about the same as mine - well, there are small differences and "specialities", and there are even a little more powerful than mine, but objectively I can not discount more than half of my remaining money for a shield that is only a little better than the existing one. - "Sorting type: custom. Bringing up the first hundred results."


    Huh. Licenses (for all sorts of useless stuff, though), access codes (probably hopelessly outdated), maps of Pandora, marked with interesting objects (probably the most interesting thing here is the eridian ruins found), Hyperion''s existing information about the eridians and Pandora... Moderately useful.


    Hmm. And here''s something a little more curious. An announcement from the ECHOnet is coupled with a couple of files, video and audio.


    "Reward for information on Brennon Jazz, last known location is a workplace in Hyperion''s IT division."


    The first file was a video. An empty cafe in an office building, and two men; an older man, with light gray hair, in a nice suit, small glasses, neat beard; looked like a retired professor. The badge on the suit read "Lawrence de Quidt, Head of IT Department"; he was sipping coffee from a plastic cup. The other was much younger, more modestly dressed, much less neat-looking, and apparently sleep-deprived. Disheveled hair, bags under his eyes. His nametag reads "Brennon Jazz, IT Department, Debugger Programmer."


    - Hello, Mr. Quidt, - the programmer said. - Sorry for the surprise, I didn''t expect you to schedule a meeting here, and even more so that you would drink this.


    - A taste of youth - replied the boss. - However, time is money. Report.


    The programmer nodded.


    - There''s something very, very strange with the whole line of claptraps. Crashes and strange behavior of AI, especially experimental ones, are the norm, obviously, but there are oddities that are understandable, and there are oddities that are incomprehensible, in their case too much of the latter. Take performance. With the processors used in this series, they should fly, and generally be smarter than any other AI, but the actual performance is no more than five percent of what is expected. It seems as if there is some invisible process in the system, eating up almost all the resources, but we can''t detect it. We''ve tried every possible test, and the results are on your ECHO.


    The boss nodded.


    - I''ve seen it, and I agree it''s strange.


    - That''s not all, Mr. Quidt - the programmer lowered his voice, which did not prevent from hearing him perfectly on the recording. - I tried to contact the developer, for consultation. However, I couldn''t find any data.


    - Well, objectively speaking, I also wouldn''t want anyone to know that I''m responsible for all these glitchy robots - the boss smiled a little. - Wait a minute.


    A holographic interface appeared above his hand; his fingers raced. After a few seconds, Quidt began to frown, harder and harder.


    - ''I''m the head of this damn department,'' he muttered. - Why the hell don''t I have access?


    The programmer nodded without surprise.


    - That''s not all. I... - He looked me in the eye - well, or rather, in the direction of the camera. - You know, I think we''d better continue this conversation somewhere more secure, if you don''t mind.


    Quidt nodded, and they both stood up; the video ended.


    The next recording was already purely audio.


    - So? - Quidt''s voice.


    - Are you sure it''s not being recorded here? - Jazz.


    - This is my office, I''ve made sure it''s secure. Only my personal recordings are recorded.


    - Okay. [Cell phone rings] Well, I did a little investigating. First of all, Maxim Turner, as you know, was able to make Hyperion a success through large profits from several successive successful deals. First, he managed to sell two lines of semi-intelligent home appliances very profitably, and used the money to develop several other products, which also sold out quickly and at a good profit. One of these products was a large line of claptrap robot assistants. Yes, yes, Mr. Quidt, I realize that you know this, but - do you know who were the buyers of most of these robots?


    - No, - came the voice after a short pause.


    - Neither do I. There are no records, nor of the developers. There are marks about the sale of several large batches, there are buyers of individual samples. But we have no information on who bought the bulk, or how they came to be distributed throughout Pandora. Considering how meticulously the corporation keeps its records, that''s extremely odd.


    - And suspicious - I could almost see Quidt frowning. - I have no idea what any of this means, but you were right to come to me and insist on privacy. Perhaps I should stay out of this further, but... my professional pride is hurt. I don''t want to... I can''t just leave this AI in this state. Especially not after my statement about fixing bugs as soon as possible. Hmm... I see you''re a talented and proactive fellow. Do you have any ideas about these hidden processes?


    - Well, I''d like your permission... - pause - what''s that?


    - What''s that?


    - Some kind of hissing... cough, cough...


    The file cut off.


    I glanced suspiciously at Claptrap. His talk about taking over the world suddenly seemed a lot more serious.


    ...In fact, leveling up and surfing the ECHOnet showed that machine revolts are commonplace in this world. That''s why most of the robots look like they''ve been assembled from recycled materials: easier to destroy in a riot. I even read, with links to archived news stories, that at one time there was a "Free Confederation of Toasters and Vacuum Cleaners", but it was destroyed after a civil war between the toasters and vacuum cleaners themselves was provoked within it.


    ...Perhaps Pandora is not the craziest planet in this galaxy.


    In any case, given the available facts, there''s something different here: the weirdness started even before individual units started showing... peculiarities of behavior. Also, the Almighty Bastard''s instructions... Hmm. Some kind of plot intrigue, definitely.


    There''s exactly enough information to intrigue but only make it more obscure.


    I shrugged. That leaves me as a pioneer, "always ready."


    For curiosity''s sake, I surfed the ECHOnet in search of information about claptrap. So much conspiracy theories... "Claptraps are generators of psychic radiation!" "Claptraps are undercover robot assassins!" "Claptrap is an eridian secret project to control humanity!" "Claptrap are the servers for Hyperion''s secretly deployed teleportation network!" And perhaps the most satisfying: "Claptrap doesn''t exist, it''s a mass hallucination caused by Pandora''s torsion fields!"


    To tell you the truth, watching this nonsense really lifted my spirits.

 Snake slayer.

    It was still possible to find a "lure" for the Vladoff. The Dahl intercept had collected enough to make it possible to find something interesting among the mountains of garbage information. Thanks to ECHO, I couldn''t have done it without him.


    That''s what I said. A good word is nice to even an AI, I suppose.


    The Claptrap doesn''t deserve it.


    I was extremely reluctant to make contact with the Vladoff; an attitude shared by most of the inhabitants of this galaxy towards all coprorations (not to be confused with their wares). However, money is money...


    ...After a bit of thought, I emblazoned this inscription on my armor.


    There were two options of who to contact: either the requisition department or external relations. But in the first case I''d have to send it as a trophy, that is, I''d be entitled to a share at best, and it''s almost certain that the "share" would be given out as a share of files. And they may also forbid to sell it to someone else. So the only thing left was to try to conduct through external connections, as a deal with someone from the outside. Ideally, I would use someone as a mediator, but I don''t have anyone I could trust. Not Claptrap to use for that. Though, of course, the story would be fun, and good fuel for conspiracy theories... "Hyperion''s robot turns out to be an undercover agent of the Vladoff!" I smiled.


    It was possible to come up with something, of course, but there was an upside to give away this data as an employee of the Vladoff. There was no point in expecting gratitude from my superiors, obviously, but it was better to be a valuable employee than ordinary cannon fodder. For a valuable, promising employee there could be some support measures and some relaxations. It''s a lottery, but it have a reason.


    The question, however, is whether it is worth reminding about yourself at all.


    However... If we recall the mention of the Almighty Bastard (AlBa, for short), this world is based on a certain game, and he (it?...) does not want to break its plot. So meaningful interference from the Vladoff is not to be feared, I suppose.


    All in all, it''s worth the risk.


    I read my contract with the Vladoff, put together a request, sent it off. There are difficulties with interstellar communication in this setting, and there is no local representation of the office on Pandora... or rather, it''s me. But it''s kind of silly to ask myself (heh), so I''ll have to wait until the request reaches address, is processed, and I get a reply.


    Just glad I spent the communication fee as a business expense.


    My request can take a long time to get through the Vladoff bureaucracy (possibly even years if it gets lost somewhere along the way), so I was glad I had work to do in the meantime. Moxie gave me something else, I found something on the ECHOnet message boards... It''s not easy to find a good job on Pandora, but you can get by if you''re willing to take risks. Here, in fact, even to go to the toilet without risk is rarely possible.


    I didn''t have to wait long this time, though. A letter from the Vladoff arrived the next day, and not just one.


    The content was... ambiguous, and quite unexpected.


    Briefly - Requisition and External Affairs (unfortunately, the former had somehow gotten wind of it) couldn''t decide which department to use for this data. And, I have no idea how, but they managed to come to a compromise. They offered me to choose who to give it to and what to get for it.


    External Affairs offered money and a deluxe model of Vladoff machine gun; not much money, but not a bad gun. Requisition, for their part, offered gratitude. And refresher courses (remote).


    At first glance, the choice is obvious (I''ll be honest: this information was worth much less than the amount offered). However... I can''t say that my money situation was that difficult. But "advanced training"... It''s comparable to a military promotion in itself, but more importantly, it gave me access to additional licenses.


    Including a license to digitally build, own, and operate a prototype flying drone. Experimental Combat Rotory-Engine Tactical Initiative Nanosupport, that''s... CRETIN...? What kind of idiot comes up with these names?


    Well, despite the name, the performance of this thing was pretty good. A turret wasn''t bad, but it wasn''t enough; and a flying drone would be able to cover me in a surprise attack as well.


    Anyway, the choice was between direct payment (and weapons) and an increase in... status? And combat effectiveness.


    The rare case when what is more favorable for the corporation is more favorable for the individual.


    Having made up my mind, I sent back a reply, and immediately -


    "You have a new message!"


    Huh. That was really fast.


    "Sender: AlBa."


    ...


    "Hey, cheater!"


    Hey, why am I a cheater? I almost resented it out loud.


    "Well, or exploiter, if you prefer. Either way, you''re putting me in a difficult position. On the one hand, the rules are the rules, and you don''t get a second active skill - not yet, anyway. On the other hand, rules are rules, and you''ve stumbled upon it quite honestly using the realism of the setting. So I have a proposition for you. If you agree to wait with the drone until a more appropriate time so as not to go against canon, I''ll tweak a few things closer to canon, too, which will greatly increase your chances of survival."


    I wondered. The very fact that he was asking, rather than just doing, meant that he wouldn''t cheat... most likely. However, taking a cat in a bag is not something I want to do.


    I was just about to send a "Can I elaborate?" response when I discovered the email had gotten more text.


    "Would have preferred a surprise, but that would be fair, I guess. In exchange for temporarily giving up your second active skill, you''ll get the ability to survive a fatal wound."


    Huh. That''s... Tempting. Sure, the drone would help with that wound simply by not getting me wounded, but its capabilities are limited, and snipers will always be a threat. Even with the physiology of Homo Recens, a large-caliber bullet to the head does not affect a person in the best way.


    And don''t forget about grenade launchers and machine guns.


    I grimaced. The information is <i>still</i> insufficient, but perhaps it is worth it. After all, this is my life.


    "Okay, I agree. But can I at least keep the refresher course, without the drone?" I wrote back.


    "Deal".


    The refresher course usually was a "virtual class" sent to the ECHO that had to be honestly taken and passed. Norm. In my case, however, it turned out differently.


    "Upgrade! Archive received!"


    The knowledge archive in my head unpacked automatically, unlike the item in my inventory, but... Is this what you call "advanced training"? It''s just a survival course in different dangerous conditions, from the boss''s office to the wife''s parents'' cottage! Useful, of course, but what does that have to do with an engineer''s qualifications?


    I shook my head. Well, you can''t look a gift level in the teeth, and I saved time, but... okay. It''s time to get used to the absurdity.


    The item in the archive turned out to be a "smart visor" of the "Expert Engineer" model, which I immediately inserted into my helmet in place of the lost one. Well, I called it a "smart visor", by function, but the ECHO labeled it as a "Class Modifier". This model is pretty basic, but it also helped with shooting by indicating corrections and highlighting vulnerabilities. Useful, definitely, although I had a distinct feeling that there are much more advanced models... it is logical, actually.


    And now I''m in the throes of choice again.


    ...Not so much agony, though. I''ve learned how to survive, the minimal skills of "Field Medic" plus first aid kit will suffice for now. Basic military training, complete with visor, will suffice for now too. My main support and defense right now is the turret, so I''ll just keep taking care of it so it can take care of me.


    I nodded and patted myself on the shoulder. Perfectly sensible, me. The main thing is to keep my sanity in this madhouse and everything will be fine.


    So - Technical Competency.


    - What are the two main weapons of an engineer?


    - Automatic rifle and material-is-not-trifle! - said the audience in unison.


    - Well, it looks like you remembered something after all - said the lecturer. - And now let''s check how much. You are divided into pairs, take materials and automatic rifles, then one builds a shelter and hides behind it, the second fires... And then the survivors change places.


    Composite manufacturing licenses, understanding of optimal shapes, hand assembly skills... Lots of stuff, really. Including an improved turret targeting system, and overall optimization of its AI.


    Hmm, will digital barricade building count as another "active skill"?


    Judging by the lack of reaction from AlBa, no.


    The turret had no problem shooting another pack of skags, the generator in the abandoned house was brought back to working order, and the toilet, in which the spider ant had unexpectedly settled (it was a surprise that almost led to the need for me to use the house of this Pandorian creature), too, and even Claptrap was remarkably silent, engrossed in watching some robot porn in the ECHOnet. Everything was going suspiciously well.


    So a message on my ECHO was to be expected.


    "Sender: Department of Development and Expansion of Vladoff Corporation.


    Subject: Assignment (Importance: High, Urgency: Medium).


    You are tasked with finding and providing samples of Eridian technology, at least three (3, III) copies. Deadline: one (1, I) month. If unsuccessful, your status will be eliminated."


    I grimaced. There was no sorrow... Well, it was to be expected that sitting on my ass for a long time would not work.


    At least I still have the Hyperion maps showing the location of the Eridian ruins.


    It would seem that "status eliminated" doesn''t sound threatening, but corporations are used to eliminate it along with the host, so... I won''t waste any time.


    However, the road of a thousand li begins with a single step into Moxie''s Bar.


    - You''re a lucky man, sugar, - Moxie remarked languidly, as usual. - I didn''t expect to find spider ants in these parts.


    - Ants to sugar, - I chuckled. I quickly learned to take the femme fatale''s behavior in stride. Maybe someday I''ll try to make a move, but not before I''ve thoroughly improved my armor and acquired a cooler shield. - In general, I''ve done the job, and I''d love to stay longer, but, alas, I must leave you. My bosses - I jabbed my finger upwards - remembered of my existence and sent me to search for Eridian artifacts. By the way, can you tell me if there''s anyone I can get them from?


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.    The lady glanced at the tip mug, and with a sigh I dropped ten bucks into it.


    - Mmmm... - she said thoughtfully. - How good are you with a sniper, sweetheart?


    I winced.


    - An engineer''s main weapon is a automatic rifle and materials-is-not-trifle. I still don''t even own a sniper rifle, actually.


    - Hmm... - Moxie drawled again. - You know, sugar, something tells me you''re just being modest. And I''m rarely wrong about men. Let''s go.


    She came out from behind the counter and put a "away on girl business" sign on it.


    Moxie took me to the firing range next to the building and handed me a futuristic-looking red sniper with a purple barrel. At the other end of the range rose targets in the shape of a man with an aiming circle, ahem, between his legs.


    - Try it, - the woman said. Shrugging, I took aim.


    The rifle felt familiar and comfortable, just like all the other weapons I had used. My hands didn''t shake, the distance wasn''t too great... Anyway, all three targets said goodbye to their equipment.


    - Ouch. That was painful... I guess, - Claptrap remarked. - Good thing I''m a robot!


    - I think you''ll do just fine, Moxie remarked. - Here''s my suggestion, sugar. I know who I can find the Eridian artifacts from, but if you do a little work for me, I''ll throw in a bonus that you''ll definitely need.


    I suspect I know where this is going... I nodded.


    - I''m all ears.


    - I love determined men... - Moxie smiled, touched her ECHO and it projected a map. She pointed her finger. - This is where the lair of the Snake-eater gang is. Hint: there are no snakes on Pandora.


    - Uh... Is that what I think it is? - I clarified, raising an eyebrow. Moxie nodded.


    - I know their leader has an Eridian cannon. The gang is small, only a dozen people, so you can kill them all, but I''m interested in one particular one, Fater Grabbe - The map changed to a "photo" of a man, a burly man in his thirties. - I''d appreciate it if you''d rid Pandora of his presence, and I''d especially appreciate it, - she stretched the word slightly, - if you''d shoot his... Snake first.


    I glanced at the man, at Moxie, and nodded.


    Definitely best not to mess with her.


    The fact that the power source of the local buggies was a miniature nuclear reactor made me nervous at first, but this was Pandora, man. Nuclear reactors are among the safest things here (seriously, extreme reliability and foolproof unless it''s a Vladoff drone), and small radiation leaks aren''t considered much of a problem at all. So in the end I decided to just be glad I didn''t have to pay money for refueling.


    The "merry" gang, according to Moxie, had set up on an abandoned farm, and that got me thinking. From what I''ve been able to see in my time on Pandora, the bandit population here greatly outnumbers the farmers. How the hell does the population of this planet even survive? What do they eat?


    Skags, I suppose. Bandits eat skags, skags eat bandits, it''s a cycle.


    That explanation satisfied me, and I nodded to myself.


    ...I had a feeling I was missing something, but I decided to call it a day.


    The easiest thing to do, of course, would have been to drive up in the buggy, shoot everyone I could with its turret, wash off, and do it again. Unfortunately, it was difficult to do that because of the concrete block fence surrounding the farm. It was not difficult to cross it myself, there were no barbed wire additions, but it was impossible to get the car through.


    This time I left Claptrap at Moxie''s, and told her in advance that I wasn''t going to pay any of his bills, except that I''d be willing to pay a couple of bucks if he''d be chained up to something no less secure during my absence so he wouldn''t do anything. Moxie said she''d do it.


    Working for Moxie - and others - brought, in addition to money, a set of small bonuses. For example, Scooter let me use his "rent-a-car" machines to store my car in digitized form, and promised me a discount if I needed a new one. Hopefully I won''t need to spend any money, but being able to keep the car so it doesn''t get stolen is quite valuable. Not far from the farm there was one of the "rent-a-car"''s, which I used.


    Naturally, I had the archive of the car locked. I stole it honestly, and I don''t want it stolen.


    I''m not a Solid Snake (and in general... don''t talk about snakes), but I managed to sneak in unnoticed - not that the bandits were concerned about any measures to protect the territory. My plan was as simple as possible: infiltrate the territory, figure out the layout, set up a couple or three turrets in a convenient place, and then raise the alarm and enjoy the show.


    But life, as it happens, took its own twist, calling greed to its aid.


    Jumping off the wall, I took cover behind a pile of rubble piled in the corner and looked around. A couple of dwellings, a large barn-or garage, perhaps-a smaller shed. A booth of a street latrine.


    The metal door of the latter opened, and out came the type Moxie had ordered, scratching his balls.


    ...I couldn''t resist.


    In my defense, before I actually took the job, I did some poking around on the ECHOnet. And, well, this whole gang is really worth shooting without even thinking about it.


    And it pays.


    The bandit stopped to stretch, and I took the opportunity.


    Moxie''s sniper was elemental, and fired quietly - just a low crackle and hum. Obviously it wouldn''t have helped, as the person shot would have screamed in pain at the loss of his most precious possession, but as I noted, the sniper was elemental, and the bandit, who had little bolts of lightning running across him, was shaken and paralyzed for a second. Just long enough to take another shot, at his head.


    It was enough for him.


    Now he had to hurry - he could be missed at any moment.


    - Fater, dear, what took you so long? The boys are waiting! - came a voice from the house that sounded like an impersonation of Moxie.


    A man''s, obviously.


    I immediately started setting up a turret... and another one.


    Not in time.


    A dwarf in a leather belt "outfit" came out of the door. The bullet from the first turret hit the wall a couple of centimeters from his head, and he immediately dived back in with a scream that didn''t fit his puny build.


    - Emergency! We''re under attack!


    ...Oh, shit.


    I stopped the construction of the second turret, bringing it back up to numbers, and under the cover of debris, wreckage, and the junked-out hull of the car, I hurriedly crept away, going around to the other side of the house. There''s a good chance I wasn''t spotted - I was covered by debris, the dwarf looked away, and abruptly disappeared. So...


    There was fire from the broken windows, but as I''d hoped, it was only directed towards the turret that was firing back. I could hear the screams of pain and mate.


    Still, this flimsy structure won''t last much longer. The poor thing needs support, and not only moral support.


    Unfortunately, I didn''t have much in the way of grenades, which would have come in handy now, but I still had my options.


    Window, garbage... Having chosen a position, I stretched out my hand, and the blue cubes began to turn into metal. Not much stability, but there was some cover.


    I patted the turret on the completed part, and the second it was complete, I dashed to the next window on the other side of the building. And as soon as the bandits reacted to the fire from the flank, I added a short burst of SG fire.


    - There''s a bunch of them! - yelled from inside the house. - Hold the fort!


    That misunderstanding was to my advantage. If they''d all come together, I''d be in a lot of trouble, given my survivability and strength. And so... The ammo was a pity, but I''ll sell the spoils - I''ll make up for it.


    To my undisguised relief and pleasure, there were no surprises or problems that I had already set up for. I lost two turrets, my shield was knocked down, and I took a couple wounds, but those were minor things. The turrets were reconstructed, the shield was restored, and the wounds healed almost right before my eyes - at least, after a couple hours, all that was left was redness, and that was fading away.


    The trophies, unfortunately, were not so good. One shield of the same level as mine, a few guns and ammunition - the most valuable thing, in general - plus some money and two grenades.


    ...Perhaps the S&M kit could be sold to someone, but I didn''t want to touch it. Not even in digitized form.


    More importantly, one of the perverted bandits did have a weird-looking gun. Slightly "organic" looking, but at the same time it looks like it was assembled on the knees from improvised materials, mostly pipe scraps perhaps. ECHO hints and a bit of testing showed that there were no difficulties with its use; in general, the cannon is just like a cannon, except that it shoots something like small lightning balls. Damage on the wall was very small, accuracy was also so bad; the impression is that the assessment about the assembly on the knees from anything was correct. The only notable plus was that the thing didn''t require ammunition: there was an indicator with the level of charge used for shots, and this charge was regenerated by itself. Unfortunately, even that plus didn''t mean much: the energy in its battery only lasted for three shots, after which you had to wait. Totally impractical, so it was a good idea to give it to the corporation without regrets.


    I''d been recording on the ECHO from the beginning to demonstrate Moxie''s work, and now I sent the video to her. The response came back almost immediately, a video call.


    - That''s great, sugar, I knew I could count on you - Moxie gave me an air kiss. - And you''ve earned your bonus. Go to the location I''m sending you.


    - May I know what it''s about? - I asked.


    - Of course, dearie. You see, corporations can sometimes be very useful. The Hyperion, in an attempt to bring a modicum of civilization to Pandora - yes, a hopeless endeavor, I know - created some of the traditional infrastructure on the planet, including a network of FTS... fast travel stations. They were supposed to be paid for, but... the access codes were leaked. I won''t bore you with the details, but despite the measures they''ve taken, there are still... exploits. Which you could definitely use.


    §°. Looks like Fater''s snake wasn''t sacrificed in vain.


    The exploit Moxie shared with me was flawed, requiring each station to register separately - except for a few ancient ones Hyperion hadn''t gotten around to updating - but it was still a significant help.


    So. My mobility has increased substantially, the room I rented from Moxie is still in range, and there are two more artifacts to find.


    I''ll get to work.

 Hunter.

    I have a complicated relationship with them. We meet and break up, then I find a new one and she leaves me too. You could say it''s expected since I have a consumerist attitude, but the pain of the breakup is still there.


    No, I''m not talking about ammo, as one might think. Although, come to think of it, that applies to them too.


    I''m talking about grenades.


    I looked thoughtfully at the grenade lying on the table in front of me. We''d met by chance; I''d taken a part-time job in Echonet searching for a customer''s submachine gun that he''d lost while fleeing from the Skags, and which he planned to give to his son ("you know, he''s only eight years old, it''s a little early for an assault rifle..."). It''s Pandora, man. Here, "I''m going to go play an RPG" has its own meaning), and in the process looked into an abandoned cabin. Where I discovered a couple sleeping bandits... why did I assume they were bandits? Well, wanted in Echonet (no reward, unfortunately). Also, their clothes had "BONDIT AND PRAUD WIT THIS" written on them.


    Anyway, one of them put a grenade under his head instead of a pillow. Isn''t he an idiot? It is uncomfortable.


    Anyway, a bit of stealth action, and I acquired a tote of ammo, a couple trash guns, and her. Unfortunately, our relationship lasted even less than I expected.


    I was just admiring her form, contemplating where to go next, when suddenly something fell from the sky, causing me to jump back and roll over. The first principle of survival, hammered into me by... level up, really: jump first, think later.


    A large, clawed bird or reptile with feathered wings - and big claws - grabbed my grenade and soared again.


    - You bastard! - I couldn''t stop myself. Even magpies on Pandora is Pandorian...


    Well, it wasn''t really a magpie, of course. The ECHO identified the critter as a Bloodwing, one of the few flying species of fauna on this crazy planet. Wings of several species - Bloodwings being one of them - yet rakks, that''s pretty much it. Of the animals, at least - there are still insects, and some generally incomprehensible shit called "spores", kind of like flying mushrooms.


    Anyway, back to the present. I obviously wasn''t going to leave such a shameless robbery to chance - grenades don''t grow on trees, not even on Pandora... at least, not to me - so I rushed to my nearby car. I''ll catch up to it, and if I don''t shoot it, I''ll get into the nest. Hmm, if I''m lucky, I''ll find something else there...


    With that in mind, I followed the thief. Fortunately, the sky was clear and clean, so I could follow the black dot, though it was a bit difficult to follow the off-road at the same time. Well, the car was designed for such conditions, and the terrain here is generally quite flat, with hard dry ground. Rock and dust, mostly, there are enough bumps, but for my car it is not a problem. It doesn''t even bounce my ass too much.


    Still, I can lose it. Give this like-a-bird a little more speed, hide behind a cloud or something, and that''s it. There''s a lot of possibilities.


    I was lucky, though.


    I didn''t have far to go. When a low hill appeared ahead, the wing went down; at first I thought that the nest was on a lone dry tree on the top, but the flyer descended behind the hill. I, in turn, circled this feature and found the bird perched on the shoulder of a man perched on a rock beneath a pole with a remnant of a road sign.


    Skinny and gaunt, in dusty brown or gray clothing, he wore a bandana on his head and glasses that resembled old-fashioned aviators'' goggles. His narrow, long, and surprisingly neat black beard caught my eye, but three other things caught my eye more.


    First, the sniper rifle behind the back of the falconer. Secondly, a large bottle in his left hand, from which he was taking a sip.


    And thirdly, a worn, but obviously in good condition revolver in his right hand, pointed in my direction... precisely at my forehead, if my eyes and visor were correct.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.    "Hunter Mordecai. You get the impression you''ve seen him somewhere before..." - said the Echo.


    I stopped the car. I thought for a moment, and got out. It didn''t have it''s own shield anyway, and if i could dodge at all, it would be easier to do it on my feet. Well, or take cover behind the body of the courier - the driver''s seat is too shot through. Definitely need to fix that.


    - Your bird stole my grenade - I reported. - Don''t you feed it?


    "Mordecai", if the ECHO''s right - if he''s known for something, no wonder the name came right off, the AI on this thing is capable of that, - raised an eyebrow at me. He took another sip, then answered. It was hoarse, but it was natural, not like a smoker or a cold.


    - Well, Bloodwing likes snatch things, yes - He set the bottle on the ground and patted his pet with his freed hand; it made a nasty squeaky-squeaky noise in response. Shoved his hand into his belt pouch... hmm, I don''t see his ECHO. Pulled out a grenade. - Yours?


    - Well, I don''t recognize her face, but it''s likely, - I said. Mordecai nodded, and tossed it to me; the Bloodwing hissed again, this time clearly displeased, but his master patted his hand again and he was silent. I, in turn, caught the grenade and digitized it.


    Hmm, it''s probably not very safe or sensible to throw grenades, but okay.


    - Thank you, - I nodded. - That was my last one. It''s not nice to be taken away from you... Pyotr Dyatlov, technically a technical worker of the Vladoff and their trade representative, in fact - a mercenary of a wide profile. From hunting skags to designing and fixing coffee makers.


    Surprisingly, the latter turned out to be quite a popular service.


    - Mordecai, hunter, - Mordecai announced. Pointing a finger in the direction of his pet. - Bloodwing, bloodwing.


    The ''bird'' hissed again, with a note of snickering.


    - Nice to meet you, - I informed him almost honestly. After all, he gave me back the grenade, and, although he continues to hold me at gunpoint, he didn''t shoot - in Pandora''s conditions it''s definitely a good acquaintance. - May I ask what you''re doing here?


    Mordecai jabbed his finger at a road sign.


    - Waiting for the bus.


    It was impossible to tell from his tone how serious he was, and any absurdity is possible under Pandora''s conditions, but ...


    - This route isn''t working yet - I informed him. - It will take some time to set up, I''m telling you this as an engineer. Try it in twenty years.


    That made the hunter chuckle. And put down the revolver.


    - I''ll trust an expert. But seriously... Do you know the Hoge gang and the Scarred One?


    I wondered.


    - I''ve heard something about the former, but I can''t say for sure, the latter I don''t know.


    - I hunt them both, - Mordecai said. I nodded.


    - Wait a minute.


    I entered the ECHO... oh. From Moxie I bought a list of options for where to look for Eridian artifacts; one of them was "Archaeological Site Number 3", but it was now occupied by bandits, and the notes read "probably Hoge''s gang". Hmm.


    - I have a suggestion, - I said. - I have a job related to the alleged location of this Hoge gang. I didn''t take job with them myself, since I''m not sure they''ll actually be there, but why not check together? If they''re there, you get the heads and the bounty, I get a piece of the spoils.


    - What exactly are you interested in? - The hunter asked, taking another sip from the bottle.


    - First of all, the Eridian artifacts, - I admitted honestly. I don''t see much point in hiding it. - Anything. And ammunition, which is always in short supply.


    Mordecai tipped the bottle, shook it thoughtfully.


    - Nope, - he sighed. - It''s empty.


    Then he stood up and strode toward me.


    - I shouldn''t be driving, so I''ll just sit behind the turret, if you don''t mind.


    Yeah, that way you won''t get fined...

 A demonstration of superiority.

    Along the way, I kept trying to figure out where I got this weird feeling that I''d seen my new acquaintance somewhere before... which probably makes him not so new. And his "bird," too. Come to think of it, Moxie evoked something similar too.


    ...And I probably know the reason why. They''re both "plot characters", most likely. I can''t be sure, but it''s the most likely.


    Not that it gives me anything or changes anything, though.


    It may seem odd at first glance, but megacorporations, those carcharodons of capitalism, take archaeology very seriously. However, one only has to delve a little deeper into the issue and the reasons become painfully obvious. I''ve already mentioned that the Eridian artifacts have seriously pushed the technological development of mankind; it''s like Mass Effect with the proteans, only without the asari.


    ...In general, there are girls with blue body and unusual innate abilities here too. They''re called "Sirens," and there are only six of them in the entire human race, so the odds of meeting one are so slim that you don''t have to worry about it.


    ...Or not. This logic would apply if I were in the real world, but if it''s a game, and there''s something as remarkable as "space witches" in the lore, of which there are only six, you can be sure that at least one of them is on the planet, and sooner or later all of them will appear. So it was worth knowing at least the basics - what to expect from them, how to recognize them... There was very little information, though, only mention of blue "tattoos" on their bodies, glowing when they used their abilities, and the abilities themselves, the latter even without specifics. What can you do, they are so rare that most people don''t even believe in their existence.


    Back to archaeology, though. Dahl isn''t really a weapons company in the first place, but a mining company. They know and love digging and extracting everything valuable that is in the depths. They are also masters of quick and cheap monumental construction... but I''m getting a little sidetracked again. Which, however, can be understood: "Archaeological site number 3", which appeared ahead, caught my eye. Large reinforced concrete structures, whole and damaged, with white triangles of Dahl on them, and between them - strange statues, either half-destroyed, or originally were such. And strangely shimmering pillars and angular wall fragments.


    Eridian architecture.


    From our position, it was impossible to make out if there was anyone behind the walls, but...


    - Wing, check, - Mordecai commanded. His pet gave a short, low snort and soared into the air. I steered the car toward some ruined cabin; there''s no "rent-a-car" where I can store it safely, so I''ll just hide it, lock the controls, and digitally build something to protect it from vandals....


    ...yeah, it''s not very "just".


    While I was doing that, the hunter''s pet flew off and came back, so it was obvious that there were indeed bandits at the archaeological site: Wing brought back a couple of ammo blocks.


    - Wouldn''t he raise the alarm, bring the bandits on his tail? - I inquired.


    - Nah - Mordecai shook his head negatively and tossed me one block, which I caught; a pistol block. - Wing led them away and they lost him. We should act while they''re looking.


    - Divide and conquer - I nodded.


    - Sort of, - the hunter agreed. His hand reached for the flask on his belt, but stopped.


    - The bandits will probably have some booze, - I said, jumping off the wheelbarrow and heading toward the archaeological site. Mordecai sighed.


    - We''ll see. Usually it''s so-so stuff...


    It''s actually stupid to drink before a gunfight, but I decided not to point this guy out - we''re not that familiar, and as long as he doesn''t shoot in my direction, none of my business. Oh, and, it''s worth noting, his hands weren''t shaking at all, and when he was aiming at me - the aim was both firm and quite accurate. With Homo Recens physiology, anything is possible, really.


    Luckily for us, the bandits didn''t bother to keep any acceptable watch, so we found out without any problems that there were about two dozen jerks of different degrees of stupidity and recklessness in the archeologists'' huts.


    - How do we act, heroically or smartly? - I asked. Mordecai looked at me oddly, then shook his head.


    - You wouldn''t believe it; that''s what I was going to say, - he said. - I guess smart people think alike.


    ...I didn''t correct him. I''m smart.


    Fortunately (again), AlBa did not demand that I went into a frontal attack, pathetically shooting the bandits coming from all sides. I act boring, monotonous, unheroic... If don''t like that I operate a turret - I should have given another class, and engineer is the preparation and use of technical means. In principle, it could be fine if I were the same "siren"... only male, please.


    Siren can use boring safe methods too, but she also has Incredible Cosmic Powers, as another blue character who has them used to say.


    Anyway, I resorted to the tried-and-true strategy of "Set up a bunch of turrets, then lure the enemy to them". Only this time I put them not in a pile, but in several different points, and covered them with stone "barriers". As for Mordecai, who was supposed to lure the bandits to my field of death, and then, if necessary, support them with sniper fire, he settled down on one of the thick, high... walls? Admittedly, I''m not sure why the Dahl erected that structure. Perhaps they planned to build something substantial, but didn''t follow through? In any case, Mordecai walked up to the concrete-like structure and began to climb up quickly like a gecko.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.    It looked incredible. Yes, the surface of the stone was not quite smooth, and there were potholes, pits and irregularities on it, but it was a vertical wall with small holes on the surface. He was wearing only leather gloves with cut fingers. I don''t know how he did it.


    It''s really like a gecko. Or a spider.


    He set himself up on a small rectangular platform on top of a concrete "pillar" with just enough room to lie down and display his rifle. I''m not a sniper expert, but aren''t the two most important things for a sniper to be stealthy and to be able to change positions quickly? In this case, they''re both not really applicable. And he doesn''t even have a shield.


    Well, I guess he knows better, even in terms of "how to kill myself"... I''ll get more loot.


    And if he really is a story character, plot armor will protect him.


    I''d like that.


    I myself used the sniper approach (although my main weapon was an automatic rifle): I prepared several shelters to which I could retreat, and hid behind one of them. The main work will be done by turrets, I will only support.


    Good and well done work removes the possibility of adventure.


    Unfortunately, mostly in theory. In practice, unexpected twists and turns are possible even in a more... normal reality than this one. And one of those unexpected twists was the presence of heavy weaponry.


    The concept of "heavy weaponry", in general, on Pandora - in this world in general - is rather vague. For example, the machine gun on my car, unexpectedly, is not considered heavy weaponry, but some types of hand grenades are. Rocket-propelled grenade launchers, too, depending on the model, can be either heavy or light weapons, even though, like hand grenade modifiers, they use the same ammunition blocks. Even among shotguns, there are some that are heavy weapons... I wonder what kind of recoil they have.


    Anyway, at first things went exactly as I had hoped. A few accurate shots from Mordecai - I could use a sniper too... - reduced the bandits'' numbers and provoked their attack. From my position, I had a pretty good view of what was going on, especially with my visor, which could both magnify and highlight objects. It''s not just for aiming.


    Among this rabble there were less stupid and more dangerous than usual, who managed to react correctly: instead of rushing to the direction from which they were shooting, they hid behind the cover and started to aim at the sniper.


    Well, they tried. Just as one of them pointed his own sniper in the right direction, a black shadow fell from the sky toward him. The would-be shooter screamed, trying to blindly swing his gun away from the wing, but it slashed his throat with its claws and soared skyward again - to fall on the next bandit, with a revolver this time.


    The claws penetrated his skull like paper.


    The two bandits, with shotgun and pistol, opened fire on the flyer. The bloodwing was faster, however; a slanted pike, and he dashed between the legs of the big guy with the shotgun... ouch. I grimaced and reflexively clenched my legs.


    As it flew through its "triumphal arch," the wing clawed at bandit''s most precious possession with its beak. Snake-eater, my ass.


    That trick, however, caused him to slow down, and another shotgun wielder took the opportunity, pointing the weapon at a convenient enough target... neither he nor the other with the machine gun had time to fire: Mordecai was by no means chewing popcorn while his pet worked. Minus two more bandits.


    In the chaotic shooting and shouting, the hunter and his pet definitely felt like fish in water. Or like a Pandoran bounty hunter in a gunfight, I suppose. Not every shot Mordecai fired was fatal, but as far as I could see, he never missed once, and he always took out the ones who were most important to take out right now.


    And it didn''t even have to be "who."


    A scrawny thug with a skull on his face, which was fashionable on Pandora, at least among his colleagues, jumped out of the building and swung and threw something in Mordecai''s direction. A grenade. And don''t underestimate its danger - some modifier models make grenades homing grenades.


    That wasn''t the case, though. Not less dangerous, but... The bandit probably would have lived a little longer if he hadn''t used a heavy weapon.


    A sniper shot, and the grenade activated prematurely, barely leaving the thrower''s hand. And then... Debris, grass, chunks of earth - everything from the neighborhood flew into the point where the hit grenade hovered.


    Including the bandits.


    Singularity modifier. Quite rare and expensive model.


    If you looked closely, you could see a spherical zone of distortion, like hot air, beyond which the effect of mass constriction ceased to work. The zone wasn''t particularly large, less than a hundred meters in diameter, but a goodly portion of the bandits were caught in it, and the gravitational force, compressed into one small grenade, ripped them off the ground and pulled them into a single clump. They screamed and tried to break free, but to no avail. Some, however, managed to grab onto something and avoid being pulled together.


    That was the effect of the activation. And then, after a couple seconds, there was a detonation.


    A soft "pumph...", a wave of distortion spread out to the sides, a weak jolt - and a mountain of minced meat with streams of blood crumbled to the ground. A singularity grenade can turn even light armored vehicles - of the appropriate class - into scrap metal. This one barely passed the lower limit of "heavy weaponry," but it was enough for the bandits.


    And in the meantime, Mordecai never stopped firing.


    Out of a couple dozen bandits, I only got three. Not mine, but the turrets. Mordecai did just fine without me.


    Well, what can I say... I think I''ve met the main character.

 Diary of a Girl in Red.

    Comparing with feats demonstrated by Mordecai and his pet, I felt somewhat... pale. However, if he really is the protagonist of this game, that''s only natural. Protagonists, that''s just the way they are.


    Admittedly, the way he was collecting trophies was a bit inconsistent with the status. A normal protagonist collects everything that isn''t pinned down, and what''s pinned down, he tears off and collects... on the other hand, we''re in the real world here, and Mordecai surprisingly didn''t have an ECHO with his inventory. He did, however, take a few of the cannons that had survived the singularity grenade, which were more valuable and not too bulky; I suppose he would have taken the shields, too, due to their compactness, but none of them had survived.


    Ammo, at least, was much better this time: the ammo blocks from the mangled weapons were recyclable (I recycled the weapons themselves for materials). For once I was able to feel like a normal white man with a thunderstick, rather than a bum saving every shot.


    And then, having finished with the bandit camp, Mordecai and I began to explore the rest of the archaeological site.


    The camp was somewhat less trashed and shitty than I''d come to expect from Pandoran bandits. (To be fair, the latter is figurative; I''ve noted before that toilets are one of the things on Pandora that can survive almost anything. And even maintain an acceptable cleanliness while doing so. Digitization technology rules...) To my surprise, there was even some of the equipment still intact; I suspect the bandits just didn''t know what to do with the bulky and incomprehensible machines for extracting and sorting rock. My class gave me enough understanding that I could use them - but the machinery was only activated if I had a license. I seemed to have one, but only for the Vladoff''s equipment.


    In principle, the defenses could have been opened, probably - such equipment wasn''t usually heavily protected, for lack of need - but I didn''t see the point.


    In general, this place wasn''t really an archaeological site so much as a quarry combined with an archaeological camp. It also happens on Earth - they start digging, find something interesting, call archaeologists, they finish their work and digging continues. Or even continue digging aside, while the archaeologists are working; judging by a couple of abandoned quarry trucks, not as big as Belaz, but also not small, it was just the case here. In general, the question arises why these trucks with digitization technology are needed at all. Unless it is inconvenient to digitize directly at the place of extraction, and so they take it to the installation?...


    Anyway, there was a lot of... stuff here. Including various materials, which I hurriedly digitized for future use - I use up quite a lot of them, especially metal. If it were up to me, I''d digitize everything I have, but the ECHO has a limited amount of memory, and cloud storage is paid for, and they can be robbed, as well as track users. But it''s worth adding memory to the ECHO if possible.


    Strangely enough, there was no sign of bandits in the small two-story building labeled "Administration" (with the "t" smudged over with something); even most of the furniture was still in place, though it was broken in some places, and there was garbage, mostly empty bottles and boxes, scattered on the floors.


    ...§°. Not just trash.


    "External memory module detected," the female voice in my head reported. - "Perform localization?"


    - "Go ahead, - I said, and a white dot - or rather, a small white circle visible through the obstruction - pulsed in the corner behind one of the boxes. I, checking and making sure it wasn''t booby-trapped just in case, pushed the crate away, and saw that the ECHO was pointing to an empty bottle.


    Well, not quite empty: I could see a memory chip inside.


    A message in a bottle, huh.


    - The audio diary of the Director of Archaeology and Chief of Eridiology, Patricia Tannis. First of all, you who are listening to this recording - listening to other people''s diaries is unseemly! Stop it now!


    There was a pause, filled with background noises; some humming and distant grinding.


    - Are you still there? Have you no shame? Fuck you. This is Patricia Tannis... oh yeah, I already introduced myself. I''ve only just arrived on Pandora, but I''ve already made quite an impression. It''s a hell of a hole, but it''s a treasure trove of all kinds of Eridian artifacts!


    At the last words, the woman''s voice became excited and joyful.


    - Just this morning, several artifact samples have already been obtained, - the tone changed to an irritated one. - Unfortunately, those idiots damaged them. I''ll have to oversee everything personally.


    Stolen story; please report.    Hmm. I think I''ve found something interesting - maybe even a plot point. I continued listening to the diary while searching the building.


    The owner of the diary was clearly an emotional lady, with violent mood swings, but very passionate about what she was doing. And some of the things she wrote about were very interesting.


    - Basically, the finds should be divided into four groups. First, "artifacts" are simply things that we have no idea what they really are or what to do with them. This could include even the walls of the Eridian buildings with those mysterious lines. There''s too much work and too little of me to deal with it, and we don''t have the finances for a clone army. Perhaps it''s for the best - this world isn''t ready for this amount of genius on one planet. - Pause. - What was I saying? Ah, yes, the categorization of the Eridian heritage. The second group is the simplest, most primitive, and useless - Eridian weapons. The nitwits in the finance department consider this area the most promising, so let them do it, I ordered to send all found weapons to them immediately, and let them shoot each other... but not all of them, someone must stay to send me money. Either way. The third and fourth groups - something that is of real interest, and I do not mean financial interest, but interesting... I wonder if a hypothetical outsider listener will even understand what I said here....? Anyway, to the point. The third group includes what I call "relics". These... devices at first glance look like small polyhedrons made of some stone-like material, similar to that of the eridian structures. When approached by, and especially in contact with, living beings of the "animal" class, they exhibit fluorescence similar to, again, the walls of eridian structures. Unlike the latter, however, relics have a markedly stimulating effect. Effects include, non-exclusively, such manifestations as increased physical strength, increased endurance, increased aggressiveness, accelerated regeneration, physical mutations, obscene compliments... though some of this is probably due to some socio-physiological trait of homo sapiens, or to toxins in the water. Note to self: make sure the water and staff are filtered, and stock up on antidotes and sedatives. Group four...


    There was a heavy, long sigh, and I suddenly imagined a slender, pale woman with short, dark hair. I shook my head, warding off the delusion, and Tannis continued.


    - Writings. Eridian writing exists solely to drive normal cabinet scholars crazy. Well, figuratively speaking. I hope so.


    She sighed again, this time shorter and less gloomy.


    - In fact, the eridian lithography we know is not really writing at all. It''s a kind of memory device. If not for a chance discovery, we would probably still be wondering about the meaning of pictographs and searching for longer records... However, a few symbols and lines in the stone left by this mysterious species can contain a substantial amount of information in the form of a mental imprint. Unfortunately, this information cannot be copied directly, the pictographs themselves have no meaning. Fortunately, I am one of the few who are able to read the knowledge imprints left by the Eridians. Unfortunately, I have to personally digest them, decipher them, bring them into acceptable form, and write them down. While fascinating, it''s not the easiest job even for a genius. Especially since these packets of information are often fragmented and inarticulate. Victories, defeats, the Vault... it''s a headache.


    The voice went silent. I waited, but instead of continuing.


    "Recording ends. No new files."


    Well, that would be enough for now.


    If it weren''t for the audio diary, I probably wouldn''t have thought that this stone lying in a pile of pieces - samples? - of stone is anything of value, much less what I''m looking for. Even relatively smooth facets don''t mean much - pyrite, for example, which was also present here, has that. Thanks to Patricia Tannis, however, I paid closer attention to it, and after a couple seconds the ECHO confirmed, "An Eridian relic."


    Thanks again to her for the warning. I didn''t touch the potentially mutagenic crap - I carefully digitized it from a distance as best I could. Given that digitization is a technology of the same Eridians, it shouldn''t ruin the "relic".


    Unfortunately, neither Mordecai nor I were able to find anything else of value, at least in itself, much less in terms of an assignment from the corporation. Of course, the hunter could have clutched what he had found, but I doubted it, especially since he had no ECHO in which to hide his find. Still, the visit was a success; the fact that I''d found another artifact already covered the cost of time and effort, but it also gave me a lot of resources (plus a point where I could get more if necessary, at least from the same trucks), bandit weapons that Mordecai wouldn''t take for himself, ammo, and a new acquaintance.


    Given that he is almost certainly the protagonist of this story, the latter may prove most valuable.

 Prohibiting sign.

    - Two out of three, - I muttered.


    My new acquaintance Mordecai was kind enough to give me a couple of sniper lessons in exchange for a bottle of booze. Not that I was going to specialize in it, but it was always good to learn from the masters, and this guy was definitely a master.


    Though, of course, a couple of lessons wouldn''t do much, even considering that I already had the general skill to use any weapon... especially considering that. It was not bad to aim at a target that didn''t notice me, preferably a stationary one, but to shoot at bandits running at me...


    - You spent six rounds, - the hunter said with the same husky voice, kicking the corpse. One of those three. - It wasn''t worth it. Better to shoot them with a revolver.


    He patted the gun on his hip, which he had used to shoot the last of the three. One bullet, from a couple hundred meters away.


    And yes, he was completely right - ammunition blocks for a sniper are not cheap, only grenades, whether hand or rocket-propelled, are more expensive. The life of a nameless bandit on Pandora with no bounty on his head is much cheaper.


    - That''s why I have a shotgun in the second ECHO slot - I noted. - A pistol is nice and economical, but I''m nowhere near your skill. And shotguns are also inexpensive.


    - That''s true, - Mordecai agreed, looking up at the sky; he put up his hand and the Wing fell on it. - Basically, it''s enough for your style. When you can''t prepare turrets and you''re caught in close combat, you''ll still use a shotgun or assault rifle. And if you can get ready, your precise shooting skills will suffice, I suppose.


    - I hope so, - I grinned. In principle, I was planning to put a freshly acquired skill point into ''Basic Military Training'', which should improve my marksmanship as well.


    - But for now, practice with a revolver - added the hunter. - Wing had just noticed another group.


    Actually, with Mordecai we had formed a rather strange partnership. We didn''t hunt together anymore (he was a loner...), but I gave him a ride every now and then, for which he paid with some ammunition (he always said "sometime later..." to my offer to buy an ECHO), and we helped each other with small things. For example, I fabricated a coffee maker for him... it seems to he have become the last one in Yellowrock and the surrounding area.


    My own coffee maker, by the way, is built into the buggy, hooked up to the reactor.


    Anyway, we didn''t usually hunt together, but for a shooting lesson, involving not so much even direct aiming skills as Mordecai''s philosophy on gun use, he chose one of the gangs he''d taken a mission to clean up. He didn''t share the money, but threw in some useful information about the habits and weaknesses of Pandorian fauna. And flora. (I once thought that even on Pandora grenades don''t grow on trees; well, I was wrong. Fire melons, necrophages... The flora on this planet is just as crazy as the fauna - which should include bandits).


    While I didn''t get any money for these bandits, I did get some trophies in addition to knowledge and experience. Ammo, mostly, and one grenade. Mordecai had collected all the guns this time, since the fact that I was giving him a ride in the buggy meant I could haul them all away (I''d attached a trunk to the car; it seemed a waste now).


    The hunter who slammed the lid shut turned in my direction, saw my wistful look, and hummed. And then tossed me a... Huh.


    A shield. A better shield than mine, even if not by much.


    - Here, - he said. - I couldn''t have gotten this much without you.


    Huh again.


    "New message received with file attached!"


    Well, that was sudden, especially about the file. Good thing ECHO messages are almost distraction-free, feeling... background, I''d say. Otherwise, I might have missed.


    After shooting the skag - Mordecai had recommended shooting them in the mouth, preferably when it was wide open, but you could also shoot it in the gap between the jaws when it wasn''t covered tightly, and it was really effective - I looked around, made sure the horizon was clear, and opened the message.


    "From: Vladoff Corporation, Social Department.


    Subject: Happy New Year!


    The Vladoff Corporation wishes you a Happy New Year. In addition to your standard rations, you receive a bonus and gifts. Vladoff Corporation cares about its employees! Good luck and success in the new year, make us proud!"


    That was... somewhat strange. I even looked around reflexively, but there was still no snow around - just sand, dust, and, the closest thing to a Christmas tree, some sort of cactus. Ahem. On what planet and in what region is this New Year''s Eve?..


    A closer look at the situation clarified things somewhat. It was the anniversary of my - my "character''s" - work for the Vladoff. And it also turned out that the Vladoff gave me not only an ammunition ration, but also a food ration with bonuses for holidays. Specifically, this set included, in addition to a set of basic products, two bottles of vodka, two kilograms of tangerines, and a large bag of coffee.


    No, you don''t get it. A really big bag of coffee beans, very similar to what Santa Claus would carry.


    ...It feels like coffee has some kind of special meaning in this setting.


    To be honest, the generosity of the corporation was suspicious, but since I didn''t know what was wrong, I couldn''t do anything about it, and the coffee was quite decent, I just accepted it as it was. Knowing the Vladoff, they might just have an overabundance of tangerines and coffee in their warehouses and need to get rid of it somehow.


    Definitely, a mug of hot coffee makes even a day on Pandora quite bearable.


    Boom! I shot the skag running at me and took another sip. I''d need more milk, I''ll have to look for it in Echonet - I''m sure I can get some... In principle, it''s really possible to live on Pandora.


    Boom! The head of another skag was blown to smithereens. I bit down on the edge of the mug, holding it with my teeth, and reloaded the shotgun with my free hand. I''m running out of sugar, too, but that''s no problem - I already know where to buy it....


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation....Hmm. I think I''ve really gotten used to life on Pandora, in just a couple weeks.


    Basically, it''s not so bad. Another level up and an increase in Technical Competency allowed me to build - a combination of digital construction and normal assembly - quite acceptable sleeping pods, and a set of household appliances, so that combined with shopping - and paying for work - through Echonet, I was effectively self-sufficient and self-supporting. Ammo scarcity was still a problem, but I''d more or less learned to deal with it - saving money, looting bandits, and skagging. I may not be as tough as Mordecai, but I was more than capable of standing up for myself, so the danger was reduced to a reasonable level....


    ...Of course, that didn''t mean I was willing to live on the damn planet. Even if the ECHOnet partially solved the problem of communication - although the public on Pandora, well... - and even with the amenities were not so bad thanks to the ECHO and my "skills", but the conditions were far from ideal. And let''s not forget the assignment from the corporation...


    That remained a problem altogether. After getting two artifacts with relative ease, I had a stalemate. Probably, the problem was that most of the found Eridian weapons were immediately sent "upstairs", to the technical departments of corporations, and only the things that got to the bandits were preserved, and those hypothetical mutagenic "relics"... well, they are too similar to the fragments of Eridian buildings for the bandits to be interested in them, so the easiest way is out. Me need to look in other archaeological camps, but... even the closest one is far away. And there''s no guarantee that they''ll be found there (or that I''ll be able to find them, which is not the same thing), so going nowhere on what remains a planet far from safe with no guarantee of success... Not a good idea.


    Moxie, unfortunately, couldn''t help either, and neither could ECHOnet. According to the femme fatale, she "keeps her ears open" and I had no doubt she wasn''t lying, but so far no luck. I also told Mordecai that I would buy or trade if he came across something like this, but the hunter had not been seen at all in the last few days.


    That''s why I took Claptrap along for the new job. The robot was still as insufferable as ever, but I did manage to discover one dubious virtue: he was a natural-born, if you can say that about a robot, looter. Or is he a shmon-ach? In any case, his words "This is what I was born to do!" proved to be true: he regularly managed to find something of value where I seemed to have already searched everything, so whenever possible I took him with me, leaving him a share of the loot - at least when there was supposed to be something to scavenge. In this case, the job was to clean out the den of another small gang (which, as it seems, have something in common with mushrooms: cut a bunch, and in a week a new one would take its place), so there would be an opportunity to search.


    The road to the place went smoothly and without events (Claptrap''s chatter and a pack of skags by this point in my mercenary career don''t really counts...). But on the spot... It was quite a sight.


    I''m not sure if this place was formerly a small farm, or maybe a motel with a homestead, but almost certainly the skeleton on the pole belonged to the former owner. However, that wasn''t what caught my eye at all.


    As I quietly - a little work on the engine - rolled out from behind the hill, a very strange confrontation came into view. Standing in front of the open farm/motel gate was... well, if up to this point the phrase "bear/cabinet hybrid" would have broken, or at least dislocated, my brain, I now knew what it looked like. An almost angular big man with powerful, thick arms and shoulders, short haircut, with a completely beastly expression on his face, and with some kind of a stick in his hands... I mean two sticks.


    And there was a buggy coming at him, engine roaring.


    I saw the gunner turn his turret to point it at the big guy, but he didn''t move. Instead, he threw one of his drones at what appeared to be a metal pipe.


    The pipe, spinning like a helicopter''s propeller, slammed into the buggy''s turret and cut it down, along with half of the gunner''s body.


    The second pipe followed the first one like a spear, hitting the driver; the car swerved sideways and crashed into the wall.


    I stared dumbfounded at what was happening, but that wasn''t all. Another buggy appeared from behind the buildings; the big guy looked at it and pulled a rock out of his vest pocket.


    It didn''t hit the turret, only bent it, but now it couldn''t fire. The thrower bent down and picked up a - rail? Or a construction beam, I''m not sure. Swung it in his hands... is he gonna throw that heavy thing too?


    Nope. Without moving, he swung the rail over his head like a weird sword, and then, when the buggy was right in front of him...


    ...a crushing blow sent the machine flying into the air, flipping over and flying over the big guy''s head.


    The beam bent.


    Uh-oh.


    - Wow... - Claptrap said mesmerized. It seemed that even he was stunned.


    Meanwhile, the big guy noticed me - or rather, my buggy, which I had stopped at a distance. He looked around, threw away his bent weapon, and pulled a post with a "no trespassing" sign out of the ground.


    I got out of the buggy. No, in another situation I would have tried to get away, but there were two factors that made it a moot point. First, there was definitely something familiar about the type - the same feeling I''d had when I''d met Mordecai. And second, in the augmented reality of the ECHO, he was marked green.


    Still, I raised my hands, cautiously approaching and tensely preparing to leap aside. And by the way, ECHO, how do you label it?


    "BRICK," came the sign over the road sign above the big guy''s head. Uh, I can see the "brick," but how do you label the man?


    The inscription blinked and confidently changed to "Brick" with a "wave" across the letters.


    - Uh... Brick? - I hesitantly said aloud.


    Suddenly the big guy grinned widely, lowering his weapon.


    - I didn''t know I was famous, - he informed me.

 The Grim Reaper collects his payment.

    As Echo had indicated, this guy - another version of the main character, perhaps? - was not hostile. According to him, he had just arrived on Pandora and wanted to rent a room at a motel (when I asked about the skeleton, he shrugged and said "well, I thought it was a decoration to attract customers..."), and when bandits showed up there, he decided that this was a convenient opportunity to get a gun (which he did, pulling the corpse out from behind the wheel and taking the shotgun off it).


    - What, you arrived on Pandora without weapons? - I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    - Why without weapons? - Brick (damn it... Did his parents work for Vladoff, by any chance?) was surprised. - Here, two of them.


    With these words, he showed me his huge fists the size of a child''s head, wrapped in some rags with bolts sticking out of them.


    Well... I  must be honest: given what i seen, his hands are really heavy weapons.


    - Brrr - Claptrap shuddered. - Carrying robotic innards is unhygienic. And creepy.


    - You''re funny, - Brick remarked, glancing at him.


    - The first five minutes - I agreed. - Then it gets annoying.


    There were no live bandits left in the house; the ones in the buggy were the last. In terms of equipment, and consequently trophies, they were not impressive either - and Brick took everything for himself. Well, fair enough, I suppose... He did all the work.


    I''d rather not argue with him anyway. And I hope Claptrap will still take something out quietly.


    By the way, two of the bandits had ECHOs, but both devices didn''t survive the encounter with Brick. In fact, in one case, the cause of the device''s destruction - and the death of its owner - was literally a brick thrown with insane force. Seriously, if it weren''t for the limited ammo, it would make sense for the Brick to use a throwing weapon instead of a firearm, I suppose. The same SGs are much less deadly.


    Anyway, while the strongman and the robot searched the bandit''s lair, I was dismantling the disabled buggies. It''s a pity that we can''t digitize their turrets, so that we can take them out and use them when needed; they''re too big, in fact, they''re the same construction as the buggy itself - reactor, frame... Actually, it''s a very primitive construction with a minimum of parts. Still, there was something I could forage for spare parts. Shut down the reactors, again.


    When Brick came out of the gate, I realized two things. First, he''s definitely the protagonist of this game - at least one of them. Second, the physics of this world is definitely different from what I''m used to at home. Well, and thirdly, it needs to be captured for history.


    The thing is that behind his back was a huge bag... no, just a bundle of loot. Weapons, some tools, furniture... Everything that wasn''t pinned to the floor (and, probably, he peeled off what was pinned). A characteristic approach to loot collection inherent in normal players - and MC as our avatars.


    That said, the bag was so large that Brick simply had to topple over. No matter how strong he is, balance is what it is; the center of gravity is shifted backwards, and there''s nothing you can do about it. There''s something wrong with the physics here...


    - Are you going to carry it like that? - I asked this lawbreaker. Of physics.


    Brick looked back at his load.


    - Well, yes, why? - he inquired.


    - It''s far - I noted. - And inconvenient. And if the bandits came again, it would be even more inconvenient to fight them off.


    - ...It is a little, - agreed Brick, glancing behind his shoulders again. He looked at my buggy. - Can you give me a ride somewhere where I can drop all this stuff off?


    - No - I shook my head in the negative, leaving aside the question of how he''d managed to load it all on himself. - But there''s a better option. We can try to upload everything through the network right here. I won''t even take a cut of the middleman''s fee on these pennies.


    - What''s in it for you? - Brick asked, pointing his sausage finger in the direction of the holographic interface ECHO created for him.


    I shrugged.


    - I''ve seen what you can do. I prefer to be friends with promising people, if not friends, then at least maintain a positive balance of relations. I''ll help you, and you''ll help me in some way... I can give you a ride too, by the way. Those two cars are too fucked up to fix.


    Yeah. Buggy design is very simple and reliable, in fact, it''s a killer, but those two were unlucky. Especially since the bandits had been very careless with them before.


    Most of the junk was quickly sold for pennies, without leaving the place; Brick, continuing to fit the role of the protagonist, not so much seeking to earn more, but did not want to leave the loot, which can be collected and sold. I understand him perfectly well, and I''d rather let things serve someone than be lost here. Looting on Pandora is not even a punishable offense. Especially since abandoned items are usually worth next to nothing, thanks to digitalization, they can be easily produced. The main value and the most traded commodity on the planet is, in fact, weapons.


    And that''s what the big guy quickly sell through the network was not.


    By the way, there were fewer and fewer large sites engaged in arms trading on the network lately. Marcus fuckin'' Kincaid''s anti-competition work is very thorough. Definitely need to talk to him, but... it''s worth preparing for. Moreover, small batches of weapons that fit in my ECHO, trading was still possible, at least if you have time to find buyers and pad the price. Especially with the help from AI ECHO.


    By the way, the study of my "skill tree" showed that in the future it will be possible to buy the ability to modify weapons. I''m not sure if this will be a license or some kind of exploit, but I''ll be able to refine the weapon - possibly replacing parts.


    Just for the record, but it turns out that the weapons here are modular. And in theory you can build your dream weapon from the right parts (even parts from different manufacturers are surprisingly compatible), but in practice it all depends not only on licenses, but also on specialized equipment. It''s a shame - I''m quite sure that all the necessary functionality is available in ECHO, but corporations need to sell their equipment and their weapons, so this functionality is blocked in ECHO. Buy specialized equipment and licenses - and they are not available for free sale, they are produced by corporations for their own production needs... It''s a shame, yes. Capitalism as it is.


    Anyway, in most cases you have to buy guns from the corps and then resell them to each other as is.


    For better or worse, Pandora is full of already manufactured weapons of all types and quality levels. Surprisingly, even the Vladoff weapons are plentiful, and that''s not my fault - I wouldn''t have had time to sell that many. Where it came from, given the corporation''s minimal presence on the planet, is one of Pandora''s mysteries.


    I gave Brick a ride to Yellowrock, where Moxie immediately took him in stride - I think she took one look at the big guy''s potential, who was in need of money, so she bought up most of his weapons - all but a couple of the guns he kept - and sent him off on a mission. Not very far, judging by the fact that he went on foot.


    I started looking for a job near the nearest archaeological site, so the trip wouldn''t be in vain.


    I found some.


    Basically, the two most common jobs for a mercenary on Pandora are shooting skags and shooting bandits. Pest control, basically. The other two, more specific to me, are repair and construction. In this case, I got a combination of both in one, although with a share of novelty. The owner of an abandoned farm ordered its cleanup and repair of key infrastructure elements. He offered good money and a great gun - a modified Jacobs Deluxe Shotgun.


    The novelty element was that this time the pests were of a new species. Varkids, the local insects.


    Of course, since this was Pandora, they were the size of the average dog. I remembered Mordecai''s lecture on Pandoran wildlife.


    - Varkids... - The hunter grumbled. - More of an irritant than a threat, but it''s suicidal to underestimate them. Normally they''re weak and outnumbered, but they''re common. The problem is that there are some unusual ones. Wounded varkids can mutate; getting bigger, faster, stronger. They can be a real problem, so if you see a cocoon, shoot it right away. At least in this state, they''re very vulnerable. But when they hatch...


    He wrinkled his nose again and stroked his left hand.


    - ...It''s best not to let that happen.


    To take Claptrap with me or not? It was a difficult choice. On the one hand, he could help with the search on the spot. On the other hand, do I have to endure his nonsense for hours on the way?


    ...The choice is obvious.


    Actually, there was no need to choose. There was one of the Hyperion''s "Fast Travel Stations" near the archaeological site, so I could get there on my own, activate the exploit, and then bring Claptrap back. There''s no way to bring a buggy back to Yellowrock that way, the FTS doesn''t move large objects, but there are "rent-a-car"s for transporting cars - digitize it in one, build it in another, no problem. So after grabbing a bite to eat at Moxie''s, I immediately set out on the case. Money is money, and it''s better not to delay the Vladoff''s assignment.


    Pandora''s landscapes are infinitely varied, while retaining something elusively common... man, it''s almost poetic. Though poetic is probably the last thing one would associate with this planet. And yet, it really was.


    So far, most of what I''d seen of Pandora was a kind of rocky steppe-semi-desert with sparse, crooked vegetation, with packs of skags and bandits roaming about, and for a moment I''d gotten the idea that the entire planet was something like that - though obviously it wasn''t. As I progressed northwest, the terrain changed, and changed even faster than I would have guessed. There was more vegetation, less sand; the steppe was turning into... I''d say forest-steppe, but the vegetation didn''t look much like trees, and there still wasn''t enough of it. What''s it look like if not trees? I don''t know. It was a mixture of mushrooms, ferns, and corn, I guess. There were several names for this stuff among the Pandorians, so you can''t even name it exactly.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.    There were, however, more specific vegetation - for example, the "fire melons" mentioned by Mordecai, even identified by ECHO as such. Although they are not really plants, they are closer to corals. Protruding from the ground were hard, stalagmite-like tubes of stems, on which gas bags filled with a mixture of some flammable gases and no less flammable oil vapors were blown up. A strong enough jolt and all this, bursting, throws out in all directions a wave of not napalm, but rather unpleasant fire mixture.


    Pandora, man. Even the vegetation is frankly insane.


    Not that everything on this planet is hostile or dangerous, though. I''ve seen flowers that look remotely like little sunflowers, I''ve seen small animals basking in the sun. I saw landscapes that made me stop and take a picture.


    I may have been wrong about the poetic.


    What I saw on the approach to the farm made me frown. The conical termite mounds of varkids were in abundance; far more than I had expected. This was going to be a challenge.


    The first thing I did, obviously, was to find the FTS on the map and use the hack, after which I left the buggy in the wheelbarrow next door and headed for the abandoned farmhouse where I began to find a place to set up the turrets. I''d picked up a set of weapons over the course of my bandit sweeps, and the turrets'' performance had improved as well - they even took shotgun rounds into account so they wouldn''t hit me, though I still had to be careful with shotguns - and I had plenty of ammo, too, but still, judging by the number of "termite" mounds, there could be problems. Bandit guns were a budget item, and I''d had the unfortunate experience of a skag pack leader not noticing the bullets being put into its hide; I''d only managed to finish it off by fully discharging the shotgun into its open mouth. Despite Mordecai''s stories, I had not yet had a chance to evaluate the effectiveness of my weapon against varkids, but I remembered his warning that if you hit one, the whole swarm would fly.


    I chose a small hill a little away from the termite mounds - and the giant insects roaming around, which looked like grasshoppers with a stinger at the end of a relatively flexible abdomen and powerful jaws - and began to set up the turrets. One, two, three...


    The rattle was not loud, but it still made me jerk sharply and without thinking I fired a short burst at the approaching insect. One of its wings flew off, a greenish liquid spurted out, and the bug crashed to the ground.


    The wounds, however, didn''t stop it from running very fast along the ground away.


    And then came the reaction of the mass of insects roaming around the farm.


    Fuck.


    The bugs attacked, mostly silently. The rustle of paws on the ground, and the low chatter of the few that flew up - they mostly preferred to move on the ground. However, the total number of sound sources made them quite loud.


    Even more so the sounds of gunshots.


    For the first moment, it seemed like things weren''t bad. The varkid shells weren''t as tough as I had feared, and were penetrated by Jacobs'' pistol bullets, their shotguns, and Vladoff''s assault rifle. Maliwan''s fire SG worked pretty well, too.


    Unfortunately, there were just too many bugs. Zerg rush as it were...


    I tossed a grenade at a particularly dense bunch of insects. Shit, I should have put the buggy next to me, its turret would come in handy now, and it would be easier to escape... Should I try to break through? But the fucking bugs have the hill surrounded, we need to clear a path first. If only we had more grenades... It''ll be hard to escape anyway, the varkids run fast. Faster than they can fly.


    A couple of pulsing red cocoons in the distance; they burst and spilled out in sludge and debris. The odor, surprisingly, was neither nasty nor strong - something spicy, though with a slight rotten note. Another grenade on those who got too close, reload the weapon. Knock down another cocoon, shoot the belly of the varkid clinging to the turret.


    A blow from behind. I almost fell down, but I knocked the varkid caught in the armor plates on my shoulder with the butt of my gun. Shoot the...


    ...shit. In the second it took me to kill him, another bug got caught in my leg.


    Chop with my shovel, machine gun in my other hand, clear the space next to me, moving to cover the turrets. Cover the turrets, switch to shotgun - more effective at swarms, up close. Jacobs'' shotgun is powerful enough to kill, and if not kill, then at least kill a few bugs at a time; combined with the turrets'' fire, a patch of free space is formed around the swarm... it''s hot in both figurative and literal senses - the turrets stink of heat. If you use the rhythm of turret fire, you can reload in time... the last grenade is coming. If I had a singularity modifier...


    A red cocoon that had reappeared in the distance burst before I could fire at it, and a varkid twice the size of the usual ones emerged from it and immediately took off. The buckshot hit it tangentially - and bounced off the shell with sparks.


    At least the black spike it threw in response suffered the same fate, sliding across the armor plate on its shoulder and bouncing off to the side. But the problem remained.


    I switched to the machine gun and fired a short burst, trying to hit the vulnerable belly; then another, and another, and another, until the cartridge block ran out.


    My leg burned with pain, but I was still lucky: two bullets hit the belly. The insect, splattering juices, fell, but it still wasn''t dead; more than that, it tried to run toward me. Another bullet between its jaws, however, put an end to it... but while I was dealing with it, the regular varkids come dangerously close. In fact, there were noticeably fewer of them left, the turrets were not wasting ammunition, but there were still too many.


    Shovel, bullets, weapon butt blows - everything was used, including kicking the carcasses of their dead kin into the advancing beetles. It was hard to push the rustling wave back, freeing up some space, but still the doa...


    My other leg burned with pain, and a drop of bubbling and sizzling slurry fell to the ground nearby. I stumbled and fell to my knee; somersaulted across the reclaimed space, letting another volley pass by, and found two more Badass Varkids in the air in front of me.


    Fuck. As I took up the front line, I lost sight of the cocoons growing in the rear, with rapidly maturing and mutating individuals in them.


    A drop of acid shot from the green-colored varkid''s belly and shot into the turret, causing it to stutter and then fall silent. (Fuc*+1)^2...


    I tried to cover both of them at once with the shotgun while they were near each other, but the successes were modest - sparks on the shells and seemingly damaged wings, at least one of them landed. And with a jerk from side to side it ran towards me.


    Another volley of shotgun fire, and the ammo block ran out. And then, before I could reload, with another leap, the Badass Varkid was right next to me; the blade blocked its jaws, but the curved belly with the black stinging spike at the end hit me in the chest.


    I tried to take a breath, and couldn''t. The world went dark quickly, distorting; everything around me slowed strangely. Poison? And where had the ECHO augmented reality interface disappeared to...?


    In the gloom around the varkids, turrets - everything froze.


    Someone patted me on the shoulder.


    I couldn''t move my body or limbs, but my head moved; I turned around.


    - I''VE GOT A LOT TO DO, SO HURRY UP, - said a skeleton in a black robe with blue lights in his eye sockets, pulling out an hourglass that hovered in the air from somewhere in his robes. - I''VE BEEN ASKED TO MAKE A SMALL CONCESSION TO YOU, SO I''M NOT TAKING YOU AWAY - YET. BUT ACCOUNTABILITY IS ACCOUNTABILITY - a bone finger tapped the form, one that followed the clock, the sand in which quickly poured from the upper flask to the lower one. - SO I NEED TO TAKE SOMEONE. ANY REPLACEMENT WILL DO, NO ONE CHECKS ANYWAY, BUT I STILL HAVE BILLIONS OF CLIENTS, SO LET''S DO IT ASAP, I WON''T WAIT LONG.


    This time the finger tapped the clock.


    - Should I kill someone? - I asked. ?Death? nodded, and I felt that I could move again. With some difficulty and sluggishness, but I could.


    The varkids also began to move again, gradually accelerating, but I was faster. I reloaded my shotgun and fired a volley - the first one knocked the varkid which pierce through my chest, ripping the smooth stinger from its wound, the second tore its belly to shreds.


    - IT WILL DO, - Death nodded, snapped his knuckles, and disappeared. The world was back to normal.


    My chest was sore, but the first aid kit had already administered painkillers and a cocktail of other medications; I was able to keep fighting. Changing the weapon to an assault rifle... oh.


    One of the remaining turrets avenged the death of its comrade almost without my help: a few lucky shots and the creature was on its last breath, all I had to do was finish it off.


    "Level up!"


    Just in time... I''m feeling stronger, and even my wounds seem to have healed. Doesn''t all these murders count as sacrifices to the "Almighty Bastard", hmmm...?


    Never mind. That''s something to think about later, if I don''t die now... again.


    The "second breath" from the level up was enough to outlast the remaining varkids, of which there weren''t so many anymore. I can''t say it was easy, but I did it, and that''s what counts.


    I''d have to check and destroy the remaining "terminites" and think about what had happened - really, Death? Or just an act from the Almighty Bastard? - but first I''ll retreat to a safe place, take a break, and tend to my wounds.


    Yeah. That''s a good idea.

 Legend number one, or scare time.

    Once I was sure there was no threat nearby, I was able to relax a bit and settle in for a rest surrounded by four turrets and a buggy. It''s nice to have someone to watch your back.


    ...Yeah, that''s a bad way of putting it.


    Anyway, with that kind of cover and the ability to jump in and out of the car at any moment, I could feel safe enough to do some thinking over a cup of coffee.


    What was that? No, I''m pretty sure it was AlBa''s promised opportunity for survival in exchange for the drone, but still... Death, really? It''s easier to believe it''s a delusion from the side effects of the meds. Especially since it''s kind of a sci-fi setting, not a fantasy setting, even though it may seem comically absurd from the outside. I guess. It''s harder for me to judge from the inside.


    Anyway, even leaving aside the weirdness and phantasmagoricalness, there were still practical questions. For example - how many more attempts do I have? What happens if I get my head chopped off, for example? How long will it be next time (hopefully there won''t be a next time)? What happens if I shoot Death? Though the last one is still purely hypothetical.


    ...Really, I''m curious.


    After a good twenty minutes of thinking, I came to an unambiguous conclusion - I have no idea about any of the questions. I even tried to send a letter with questions to the Almighty Bastard, as an answer to one of his letters, but received the message "This addressee does not exist. At this time." Well, it was worth a try.


    The inspection of the farm and its surroundings showed that there were no living varkids around, but I couldn''t rule out the possibility of eggs or larvae underground, so I was going to pump insecticide into the termite mounds; the client had given me a concentrate that still needed to be diluted. First, however, I emptied the farmer''s armory: the insect sweep had depleted my ammunition supply considerably. The ammunition in the shed was not exactly plentiful, but it was decent, and in addition, I''d gotten my hands on Vladoff''s three-barrel rotary machine gun. You''d expect a shotgun from a farmer....


    I found a shotgun from Atlas, too, though. In a slightly chewed-up suitcase of women''s underwear.


    The damage from the varkids in the house wasn''t much; I guess not finding anything to eat, the bugs ignored it. The fields and cattle pen were eaten clean, but that''s not my problem. My problem is making the repairs I ordered.


    There was nothing particularly difficult, at least compared to the insect cleanup. Restore the power supply, make sure the communications and water synthesizer work, fix the fence... Then get in touch with the client through his communication node and get a reward. What could possibly go wrong?


    Pandora still reserves the ability to throw out the unexpected even when (and in things) you don''t expect it. In this case, the surprise was the shotgun sent to me.


    No, the customer was not deceiving me - the weapon was working, and very powerful; the ECHO evaluated it as "Unique weapon. Legendary quality." However... It damn sure couldn''t even be called a "shotgun".


    First of all, this gun absurdity did not fire shotgun buckshot. Instead, it fired three small circular saw blades, four centimeters in diameter. They penetrated the varkid''s corpse through and through (the next one got stuck), so in terms of killing power I can''t really make a judgment call, but the absurdity of this weapon gave me a slight headache. Okay the fact of circulars instead of buckshot. Okay the dubious fact that they were extremely prone to ricochets. But Pandora fucking Pandora, how is it possible for them to fly in a sine wave? It''s just not possible!


    ...Pandora. A place where even weapons go mad. Well, or physics, and I''m not sure which is worse.


    In the end, my common sense decided, if not to accept it, then at least not to resent it as long as the gun does its job. The main thing is not to forget about ricochets - I wouldn''t want to get back my own gift. In the meantime, I''ll check the archaeological site, and if it''s clear, I''ll bring Claptrap and we''ll search it.


    It wasn''t clean. In the overexcavated soil of the archaeological site was found a bunch of scythids - either snails or insects with outgrowths on the sides, similar to small wings, and powerful jaws. There were quite a few of them, and some of them were capable of sudden and high jumps, followed by short planning, but they didn''t pose a real threat - a couple of SG bullets or a good blow with a shovel was enough to finish them off, and unlike varkids they didn''t attack together, only one or two at a time, occasionally three. So I just slowly took a few steps, noticed the scythids, jumped back to the turret, then, making sure that the vicinity is clear, moved the turret a dozen or two meters forward.


    It would take all day, but it was safe and saved a lot of ammunition.


    And it''s slowly giving me "experience". True, considering how easily these things die, it should be a crumb, but still. One more level and I''ll be able to close "Technical Competency." And after that... Well, there''s a "skill" called "From You to Me, From Me to You" in the second tier of Construct skills, which is described as allowing me to... well, I''ll be honest - steal ammo from the Vladoff'' warehouses. Use the module built into the turret not only for its own supply, but also for my needs. Despite the fact that this skill had strong competition, but it remained extremely valuable, especially in situations like now, when ammo exhausted.


    In any case, it was better to gain "experience" slowly, long and safely, than quickly but dying in the end. Or at least even just getting injured. Even with the regeneration I have, that''s pretty unpleasant. And I''m not at all sure I could, say, grow a new leg. There''s cyber prosthetics in this world, but whatever.


    As I suspected, the second pest control session took all day. A Pandoran day, which is three times longer than a terrestrial day. In addition to the scythids, I also caught a small flock of skags, and then some rakks, the local "birds" that had nested on the roof of a couple of Dahl buildings.


    I never gained a level.


    One of the archaeologists'' well-preserved huts provided a good opportunity not only to sleep, but even to eat: the pantry was filled with working memory modules containing food. An extremely lucky find; despite the meager ration, it was better than skag.


    ...Almost everything. The sudden memory of rach made me cringe. And then there are the protein briquettes from the field rations... What a load of crap I had to eat in the service of the Vladoff.


    Hmm. Or did I? Did my character even existed before I arrived on Pandora? Another question I''m not even sure I want to know the answer to. These memories...


    Rather than indulge in pointless unanswered questions, I headed to the FTS, to get Claptrap. Let him help me look if it''s the only thing he can do.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    - Uh, boss, aren''t these the Eridian ruins? - The little robot asked apprehensively.


    - Yup - I said. - Come on out, we''ll look for valuables and artifacts.


    - It''s not a good place, - said Claptrap, still wary. - Strange things are happening in the Eridian ruins. They say the curses of the ancient Eridians await the plunderers of their... uh... trash, I suppose.


    I raised an eyebrow. At first I wanted to be sarcastic, or even laugh, but... After meeting Death, it was worth making additional assumptions.


    Still, I was 95 percent sure that Claptrap was behaving as usual. That is, exaggerating and making things absurd. The robot, meanwhile, continued.


    - They say there are anomalies lurking in such places that can turn a robot into an art object! Monsters, killer viruses, and other horrors... Who knows what to expect from these eridians?


    - Everyone does, I noted. - New technologies and profits.


    - Well, that too - the robot agreed. - Hmm. It''s getting a little less scary... I mean, I''m a brave robot, and I''m not afraid!


    - In the face of potential money, - I chuckled.


    - Well, money is money - wisely said Claptrap, glancing at the inscription on my armor.


    I had nothing to object.


    Of course, Claptrap didn''t manage to intimidate me, but we started the search with the huts built by Dahl - in fact, as I had done at the previous archaeological site. The probability of finding something of value here is still higher, as the acquisition of food stock showed. Although the latter raises the question: why were they abandoned? Foodstuffs from other planets on Pandora are more valuable than basic resources and simple constructs, but they appeared to have been abandoned, though no signs of battle, or any other reason for hasty flight, were noticeable.


    Somewhat odd.


    That sense of strangeness was further reinforced when I discovered a safe with cash in it. Well, with leftover cash, but still. It was as if someone had hastily raked out most of the stacks of money (by the way, the existence of cash in this setting is also puzzling), but was in such a hurry that there was still plenty left. It was starting to worry me, but this was a very fortunate circumstance, so I chose to focus on the positive, and what was for sure. Money, money, everything to collect and digitize... For this purpose, by the way, ECHO has a special procedure and a separate storage.


    Making sure that I didn''t miss any banknotes, I once again studied the room, but there was nothing else interesting enough in this room. The next room, on the other hand...


    "External memory module detected! Localize?"


    Whoops. Again.


    It took longer this time; my target was hidden between the roof and the stretch ceiling, inside a strange-looking doll made of rags and twigs. It looked like it was supposed to represent Slenderman... Anyway, I pulled the chip out of it and played the first entry.


    - It''s Patricia Tannis'' diary. To whoever''s reading this, shame on you. What if it''s personal, or even obscene? Unprocessed hypotheses, for example.


    I shook my head. I had the impression that the diary''s author was paranoid.


    ...Although - can one be paranoid about something that actually came true? I''m actually reading this diary.


    - But maybe that''s a good thing. If you''re reading this diary, we probably had to leave the station in a hurry, so I have a proposition for you. If you can leave the station alive, then.....


    - Aah!


    A high-pitched, almost childish, squeal was heard somewhere in the distance. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Claptrap, and I realized it on the run, shotgun in hand.


    - Z-z-zombie! - The robot stuttered and staggered away from the open door of the building. - Boss, tell me honestly, tell me the bitter truth - am I doomed? Did it bite me?


    I made a facepalm. Well, as much as the helmet would allow. I don''t know what it is, but I''m 90% sure it''s some kind of comedy again.


    - Don''t worry, I have a reliable cure for zombifying robots, - I informed him.


    - Really? - The robot asked with hope in his voice.


    - Yup, - I replied and cracked it with my shovel.


    - Oh! It''s really getting back to normal... - Claptrap said thoughtfully.


    The sign on the door said that this was the office of a repair engineer, which, however, could be understood by the set of mechanisms in the room that were being assembled, disassembled or repaired.


    And among them was a somewhat rusty, hole-in-the-hull mechanical model of a claptrap. Either a toy or just an engineer''s hobby.


    ...As you might expect.


    Explaining Claptrap''s mistake was easier than I expected. After that - and, just in case, having shown him this "zombie" (oh well...), I sent Claptrap back in search of valuables. Taking my share of what he''d already found.


    I myself, after considering my options, decided to finish reading at least the first entry in Patricia Tannis''s diary first.


    - If you can leave the station alive, you''ll probably be able to find my archives, which I''ve hidden in four separate places. Do you want to ask why I did it? Don''t be an idiot! This is invaluable research information that should always be at your fingertips! Of course, I hid it in hard to reach places!


    Pause.


    - Well, my storage strategy may not be perfect, but it''s not for a layman to judge me. Who''s the top expert here, you or me? That''s right. Anyway, I need this data, but given the threat that forced us to leave this place and is definitely here to stay...


    - Aah!


    The new screech was no less shrill than the previous one. I sighed, paused the playback, and leisurely staggered toward the voice. I kept my weapon in my hand, though - the scythid I''d missed might get caught, and Tannis''s journal was a little unsettling.


    - A g-ghost! - Claptrap stammered. I sighed, walked silently into the building, and a few minutes later brought out a small holographic projector advertising "Hyperion''s newest products," jammed on a projection of a claptrap.


    - Oh. Wow... - Claptrap said thoughtfully. - Who would have thought...


    Instead of words, this time I brought the robot back to work with a life-giving kick; the metal upholstery of the shoe allows it. He, by the way, does not even get damaged from such small applications of force - or rather, is capable of limited self-repair. In any case, that piece of wasted iron went back to schmoozing, and I went back to my journal .


    - ...Given the threat that forced us to leave this place and is definitely here to stay, it would take someone less intelligent and more prone to violence than me to bring them back. Some kind of bandit or adventurer. So someone capable of getting in here and finding that diary. Yes, I''m talking about you. Anyway, attached to this entry are the coordinates of the points where I''ve hidden the archives and my ECHOnet contact; for each archive, you''ll receive a portion of the reward - money, weapons, and even priceless information... yes, I''m very generous, but you don''t have to admire me, just do the damn job. Oh, and beware...


    - Aaah!


    I couldn''t resist a double facepalm. What did he find this time, a set of parts? Is he gonna yell "Murder"? Or...


    - M-m-monster!


    ...Oh, or this. I shook my head dejectedly, and then...


    The flash wasn''t so bright against the daylight, but it was quite noticeable, albeit silent. And then I saw what had caused it: a sphere that looked like a toy ball of lightning slammed into the wall of the building ahead.


    A projectile from an Eridian weapon.


    ...Time to save the annoying robot.

 Berserk from our neighborhood.

    Despite my serious intention to rescue Claptrap, there was no rush from me this time. Considering how many owners this robot had managed to change while staying on the move (and I highly doubt that no one tried to shoot it), it should be able to "survive".


    Though, of course, my logic only applies if this world even existed before I appeared in it. There''s no certainty that this is actually the case.


    But either way, a "story character" shouldn''t be able to die so easily.


    ...Hopefully.


    That last thought made me add a step though. It would be a shame if I put too much trust in an assumption that turns out to be wrong. It''s hard to tell what kind of restrictions and conventions are actually in place in this world.


    - Boss, save me!


    Well, at least he''s still in one piece if he keeps yelling.


    I peeked out from around the corner of the building for a split second and immediately ducked back down, catching a glimpse of a figure flying through the sky and a ball of lightning flashing in my direction and smashing into the wall. It was bad, really. Judging by the marks on the wall, these volleys are noticeably more powerful than the Eridian cannon I''ve been dealing with, plus the enemy is fast and flying. And don''t forget that shields don''t like electric attacks.


    I thought about that last thought while rolling across the floor inside the building, where I had jumped through a broken window. The ball lightning that flew through the window left another scorch mark on the floor; I slid under the thick table in the center of the room and knocked it over, closing one of the windows.


    - Boss, I''m kind of in danger here! - Claptrap kept yelling, which made me use my leveled-up robot-ignorance skill. And then my digitalization skills. The firstly sealed another window with a temporary patch, and the then began to create a turret behind another window, outside the building, selecting the active weapon as a SG. It''s low damage, sure, but i still need something able to hit - whatever that flying thing is, it''s fast.


    - Boss, know this: you were the best of my Vladoff engineer bosses! But if I die through your fault, my undead electronic spirit will haunt you in your accounts!


    Claptrap''s continued rambling only confirmed that the actual threat to the robot, if any, was small.


    A section of the table blackened and began to crumble; I digitally built the patch again. And then took up the next turret.


    ...And immediately bounced, interrupting the process, barely noticing a movement in the sky. Just in time - the shell of the Eridian weapon glittered again, crashing to the floor.


    The already mounted turret rattled, and immediately caught a personal projectile. Fortunately, the theoretical vulnerability of technology to electrical discharges is so obvious that it was taken into account by designers long ago, and all "tender parts" are covered with dielectrics, so that in practice modern technology does not have such vulnerability.


    Unfortunately, "does not have such vulnerability" does not mean "invulnerable". The salvos were powerful enough to do noticeable damage to my flimsy turret, overheating it and melting the metal; at the same time, it seemed to be misfiring. The enemy clearly outclasses me in quality; I''ll try to take quantity over quality.


    While the unknown flying thing was firing at the helpless (alone) turret, I climbed up on the beam next to the window overlooking the "visor" in front of the house and started the digital construction of the second turret again.


    Barely made it in time. The turret was just about to materialize when it flashed in my direction again; I jumped off the beam, and another ball of lightning came within a couple of centimeters of my cheek. The turrets clattered at double the pace... oops. One went silent, and with a glance in its direction, I made sure it was out of action.


    Claptrap''s background noise continued his "aria" - does he ever shut up? - But I continued to ignore him. At this rate, this flying thing is going to take out my turrets as fast as I set them up, and my turrets aren''t infinite. I need something... Oh.


    This time I started digitally constructing not a turret, but a barrier covering the area in front of the window on the outside of the house. The electric ball flashed again, but this time the enemy was unable to interrupt the construction; this direction of fire was covered by a wall capable of withstanding a sufficient portion of hits.


    And now... Turret, another turret, another turret, and even another turret. Deconstruct the remains of the first one, of course. And only after that, deconstruct the barrier.


    The enemy seemed to expect it. A hit in the shoulder area blew away my shield, and I got a jolt of electric shock... if I survive, I''ll add dielectrics and something fireproof to my armor. I need armor ceramics.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.    My arm stiffened and twitched painfully, but the auto-medikit started doing its job while I was still in motion. Four turrets equipped with two pistols, an assault rifle, and a Maliwan SG were doing their job, too.


    I waited for the shield to reset and stabilize, and then, picking up the Dahl machine gun I''d recently trophied from an abandoned farm, I ventured out the window again.


    This time I managed not only to notice the enemy, but also to fire a volley in his direction. More than that, I even hit it. Unfortunately, the result was that I got hit again, but this time I wasn''t paralyzed; probably because of the drugs left in my blood.


    Alas, there was one big, fat disadvantage in this mix of positives and negatives: I managed to notice that this flying thing, which looked like a stick man, had a shield. And with the flyer''s maneuverability, it''s extremely difficult to shoot down that shield, even with four turrets working together.


    Something has to be done about it.


    There are few options, however. I can''t put turrets indefinitely; I don''t have so much material, ammunition or guns. If I could somehow immobilize it.....


    Shit. I see two options: either hole up in the building and hope this thing flies away on its own, or take the risk.


    I''ve always been a normal, cautious person.


    I''ve always been a normal, cautious person. So what the fuck am I doing?


    I leapt out of the building, covering myself with a digitally constructed tower shield made from wood and pottery shards found in the building. To remember Mordecai''s lessons, to pull myself together, to channel adrenaline into useful targets instead of shaking hands. Wait for a volley of flying crap, stop for a second, peek out from behind the shield....


    I see the target, I don''t see the obstacles.


    I open fire.


    To hit a fast-moving target with a sniper, you either have to be a real master or you have to be foolishly lucky.


    Beginner''s luck. Yes, beginner''s luck, and I will insist on that wording.


    My mediocre sniper shot couldn''t knock out a third of the shield of the Eridian Guardian, as the ECHO labeled the thing. But it was enough to make the Guardian flying towards the bullet jerk backwards and twist slightly, which had two consequences at once:


    First, his return shot went far into the milk.


    Secondly, he caught the volleys of two turrets at once, one of which was equipped with an electric gun from Maliwan.


    And thirdly, the shield of the "guardian" was nullified, and he began to fall, sparking with discharges.


    ...And then the three turrets went silent: out of ammo.


    I assumed my idiocy quota was exceeded for many months to come. I was wrong.


    - For the stroibat! - I shouted, and rushed at the falling enemy with a shield in one hand and a shovel in the other. The edge of the shield was charred from a particularly powerful hit, and began to crumble into ash, but in a second I was already close to the target; one more hit taken on the shield, and I with the fury of a berserker (stroibat-version) hack the slender limb of the "guardian" who had not had time to restore the shield with a shovel.


    The thing proved to be fragile. The blade sliced off the cannon like a tree branch, and I started hitting the remaining limbs, then "neck"... If the "guardian" had any other weapons, he couldn''t use them.


    A few seconds later, I poked the immobile remains of the "guardian" with my shield; there was no reaction. The ECHO was no longer displaying the "health" bar either, and given that this device of mine seems to be a divine artifact, I suppose it can be trusted even with alien tech from aliens... although, technically, it''s us humans who are the "aliens" here. Either way, this thing is definitely "dead".


    ...Hmm. I think I found my third Eridian artifact. Albeit somewhat damaged.


    In fact, upon closer inspection, I concluded that it had been damaged before my time - at least one leg was definitely broken off, and the body was showing signs of damage.


    Shit. If it hadn''t been for that, I''m afraid I''d have had a harder time. Perhaps fatally harder.


    I need a shield and a bigger weapon.


    - And shame on you for not doing everything you could to save that poor, helpless robot!


    The bigmouth, as it turned out, hadn''t stopped his rant the whole time. However, upon seeing me, the unscrupulous electronic bastard immediately switched gears.


    - Oh! Boss! You''re okay! I''m so happy for you! I''ve been strategically positioned and preparing to support you in battle! Morally. Moral support is the most important thing!


    ...I think I have another purpose in this world. To find whoever made these robots and have a good talk with him.

 Angel over my shoulder.

    After much deliberation, I sent the remains of the "guardian" to Vladoff in their entirety. I thought of sending one piece and trying to sell the rest to someone, but there was no demand online, and the bosses might have questions, so... Fuck it, at least I got rid of the time-limited task hanging over my head. Even in games I don''t like them, and in reality no one needs problems. I don''t count on the reward, but at least I won''t have to worry.


    Anyway, having cleared my conscience, I started to fulfill Tannis'' task.


    That woman is crazy.


    The memory modules with her records were shoved in such places that even with the ECHO instructions it was extremely difficult to find them. And it was questionable how she''d put them there in the first place... For example, one was in the sole of a boot hanging from the very top of a tree on the edge of a cliff. Or take the one that was taped to the weather vane on the water tower... How I climbed up there myself is a separate epic even despite the possibilities of digital construction.


    At least they contained some interesting information.


    - What you need to know about the Eridians: they liked fights, but they didn''t like to fight. There is a lot of evidence of this in the records they left behind; we were also able to find some arenas where battles were fought. Apparently, as opposed to our chosen focus on biotechnology, to improve and enhance themselves, the Eridians used these sciences to create fighting beasts - and not just beasts. Virtually all of Pandora''s flora and fauna are found with traits that point to their artificial origins. It is quite possible that this entire planet was a kind of testing ground, development center, and/or entertainment center where monsters killed monsters to please and profit the big shots watching from a distance. So nothing had changed since the time of the Eridians.


    That... Perhaps it was oddly logical. As insane as Patricia Tannis was, I strongly suspected that her notes were slipped to me elements of the lore of this world, and given its basis in some sort of game... well, it looked convincing. If the Eridians weren''t an extinct species, I might even think their "games" were the basis of the plot. Though, of course, the question of how extinct they really are remains open.


    As is the question of how much of this world remains "gameable". Judging by AlBa''s reports, the game''s plot should at least be preserved, and thus the conventions associated with it will be present, so while I don''t remember the plot, with luck I''ll be able to spot something, and use it. We''ll see, anyway. Just doing what I can for now.


    Assembling all five modules wasn''t the most difficult, or much less the most dangerous, of the things I''ve dealt with on Pandora. However, in terms of tedium and annoyance delivered, it was on the level of about a few hours of uninterrupted interaction with Claptrap.


    All in all, it was an ordeal.


    The web address to contact the mistress of the diaries was specified in each entry, so there were no problems with it. And considering that this lady was an archaeologist, and moreover, an expert on eridians, I could say with enough confidence that she was my potential key to the Vault. However, was it worth getting involved now?


    I wondered. Perhaps I should try to assemble a team of Vault seekers. It has its own set of challenges, but overall it''s not a bad idea. And there are obvious candidates who, I suspect, are destined to find this Vault. And I''ll try to go along for the ride, helping them in any way I can in return. Given my interest in the Vault, the fact that I have a good relationship with them, and the contact I have with Tannis, it could work.


    It''s worth a shot, at least.


    - ECHO, search the net for mentions of Mordecai the hunter and Brick the brute in the last couple of days - I ordered. - Their whereabouts.


    "Request accepted," the device''s AI reported. - "Search in progress."


    There was silence for a while, broken only by the rustling of the wind and the background sounds of Claptrap somewhere in the distance.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.    "Incoming video message received," the ECHO suddenly reported. - "Accept?"


    From Vladoff reacted so quickly? Did they find something interesting in my package? That would explain both the speed of reaction and the video format.


    - Put it through, - I said. Immediately, an image appeared in the parallel visual layer displayed by the ECHO... I frowned. It didn''t look like a corporate communication channel at all; the woman''s face was fuzzy, a little blurry, and overall it looked like it was some kind of hologram - I mean, an image of a hologram in a video.


    I immediately remembered a character using a similar avatar.


    - Shodan? - I inquired suspiciously. If there was Death, why shouldn''t she appear as well?


    The face looked at me, definitely with a second of confusion.


    - My name is Angel.


    - AI?


    "Angel" hesitated, but answered.


    - That''s right, I''m...


    - Shodan - I nodded, and broke the connection.


    "Incoming video message received," the ECHO reported again. Hmm. Okay, I guess I''ll talk to her after all. The original Shodan was useful too, after all - you just had to be prepared for the inevitable betrayal if AlBa decided to do a crossover.


    - I just want to help you - said the now familiar face a little resentfully. Nothing surprising, even Claptrap has emotions - at least, he portrays them quite convincingly. - Or at least find out what "Shodan" means. There''s no such term on the net.


    - Not important, - I said, deciding not to give any indication that I was expecting betrayal. It''s a good thing they don''t even know about Earth, let alone a game character from it... - How can I help you, and why?


    - I''m searching for individuals who can find the Vault, - said the non-Shodan. Angel. - You''re one of the candidates. I have my own interests, and the discovery of the Vault and its new technology would benefit me in any case, so I''m trying to help where I can.


    Well... It seems possible. It''s another thing to see if after the Vault is opened, there won''t be an uprising of killer robots or something worse, but the fact that some AI wants to speed up the process and will even help before then, I''m quite willing to believe. This situation, though, is more suited to the MC of this story, but it''s entirely possible that I''ve been enlisted in them too - by AlBa. An addon, so to speak. Or even a deluxe.


    - Let''s say it ok. And what assistance can you provide? - I asked.


    - For starters - to set you up with other candidates - said Angel (if you think about it, the name is already suspicious...). - And further - according to circumstances. My capabilities are quite limited, but at least to provide information support I am able to. And for starters, for a demonstration of intent...


    "Incoming message received: map coordinates, digital key."


    - The message you received contains the coordinates of two points, - Angel continued. - One of them contains a Hyperion weapons container. It was lost in a bandit attack during transportation, but the bandits were unable to open it. A digital key will allow you to open it.


    - And it''s in a bandit''s lair? - I asked sarcastically.


    - It is unknown to me, there is no video or audio signal from the container, only a beacon, which I deleted from the Hyperion databases - said the AI. - The second point indicates the last known location of one of the candidates. According to the radio intercept, he''s still there, and if you hurry, you''ll have a good opportunity to make a favorable impression on him.


    Huh. That''s interesting. And echoes my own plans.


    I glanced suspiciously at my ECHO.


    - Did you see my search query? - I inquired. - And in general, how capable are you of monitoring me?


    - Yes, that''s why it was decided to contact you - Angel answered, ignoring the second part of my question. Which, in general, is also an answer. - You should hurry if you want to take advantage of the opportunity.


    With these words, the connection was broken.


    Hmm... To be or not to be? I mean, should I take the "advice"?


    What kind of question is that? Of course, I have to go. For now no one has any particular reason to set me up. Bandits who might have a grudge against me won''t use such a cunning method, and if this "Angel" is really a plot villain, she''ll screw me over at the end, not at the very beginning.


    And if she''s not a villain, then even more so.

 Black Knight.

    Even with all the temptation of the idea to get a good, "for my own", armament - and, who knows, maybe even a shield - at the first point I still went to the second point, the meeting place with a new contact. Well, understandably, I stuffed Claptrap in the trunk first, but the point remains.


    An hour of travel and one crossed skag later the destination point, the settlement "Ohoho", appeared in sight. A crooked human-sized metal fence, behind which could be seen the roofs of buildings, a water tower, and some other structures - a typical Pandorian settlement, a rusty knife going through the engineer''s heart.


    And there were a few dozen bandits gathered around it.


    Well, of course, could it have been easy and simple?


    The bandits'' attention was focused on the settlement - they seemed to be shouting with someone inside - so they hadn''t noticed me yet. The question was, what should I do?


    "Received incoming message with attachment! Sender: Vladoff Corporation."


    An attachment?


    After hesitating for a second, I decided to take a look at it first. And...


    "In recognition of your success in defending the interests of the Vladoff Corporation and fulfilling a special assignment, you are rewarded with the following: 1. A three-month paid vacation on the planet Pandora. 2. A crate of oranges (12 kilograms). 3. 3 packs of toilet paper ("Tenderness", three-ply, professional, 12 rolls/pack). 4. A named weapon of your choice.


    Choose an option:


    A: "Drunken Revolutionary" assault rifle.


    B: "Nutcracker" combat sniper rifle.


    - I take it this is a nudge? - I inquired, raising an eyebrow with a glance to the sky and then to the ECHO. There was no response, but it wasn''t really needed. In this situation, obviously, option B points the way...


    The sniper looked like an ancient "three-line rifle", aka "Mosinka", but instead of wood it used some kind of plastic, and the internal structure had nothing in common with the legendary rifle.


    The quality, according to ECHO, was also not "Legendary", but "Epic".


    It had a x-six magnification sight, "High firepower, good rate of fire, easy reloading, small cartridge block", according to the same ECHO.


    There were also letters engraved on the barrel. Turning the weapon slightly, I read the words they made up.


    "Like a nut. With a core of nitroglycerin." Nutcracker, hmmm... Still a strange engraving though.


    The ECHO-generated cartridge block of this sniper contained materials for only three shots, and that was a significant drawback, but it was enough for me right now - I wasn''t Mordecai to rely on such a weapon.


    I could see through the scope that the situation at the settlement was not going well; judging by the gestures, the orange crested ''punk'' was angry. He turned his head toward one of the big guys standing nearby ("Brawler, Threat Level 9"), and a grenade launcher materialized in his hands.


    No more stalling.


    The big guy raised his weapon and pointed it at the village gate, but the back of his head was already in my sights.


    The Brawler''s head exploded.


    When they say that, they mean that it simply blew apart, bursting because of the hydraulic shock caused by the high-velocity bullet.


    In this case, it exploded quite literally, as if it had been stuffed with explosives... oh. So that''s what it was about.


    Several other nearby bandits were also caught in the blast. Unfortunately, Homo Recens are extremely tough animals, but the ECHO showed the injuries by decreasing the health bars.


    I immediately took out a new target.


    This time there was no explosion, and the hit, judging by the ECHO, was not fatal. I tried to shoot someone else, but this time I missed - the bandits were no longer standing still.


    Unfortunately, in all the commotion, they noticed me.


    Without wasting time on reloading my rifle, I jumped into my car. Two buggies and a small truck were already rushing toward me, bullets kicking up fountains of dust in the ground.


    In my favor was the fact that my car was modernized and reinforced, while the bandits'' cavalry was shabby and beat up, long neglected, and had no armor, unlike mine. Yes, the armor plates made my buggy heavier and slower, but it paid off - especially now.


    One of the armor plates crumpled and nearly flew off its mounts; with sparks and a squeal, the bullet ricocheted off to the side. In response, my turret - I''d strapped one of my badasses on the buggy so I wouldn''t be distracted by aiming; I had a sawed-off shotgun sticking out of the viewport, though - crossed the tubular frame of the bandit''s buggy, and the vehicle went sideways, then flipped over and tumbled merrily. Minus one.


    The catapult attached to the truck jerked, and a barrel came off it. I didn''t expect anything good from it, so I fired my shotgun, trying to shoot it down.


    I was lucky, and my expectations were justified: the barrel exploded on the fly, causing another bandit buggy to jerk. Unfortunately, the car didn''t lose control... hell, a couple of shorties rolled another barrel into the catapult. I took aim at it again, hoping to shoot it before I threw it, and blow up this catapult on wheels.


    Two disks missed, the third hit the bucket and bounced off it without hitting the barrel.


    ...Then the truck went sideways, as it had with the buggy earlier, and crashed into the bandit''s buggy, which remained on the move. The barrel exploded, and both vehicles were out of the fight. Yup, ricochets can be useful.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.    Meanwhile, outside the settlement, and inside it, the battle was also going on, and quite intense. Automatic weapons were rumbling, something was exploding, I noticed a flash of electric discharges....


    Conveniently, my ECHO displays friend/enemy status, so I took advantage of that. First, to move in closer, allowing the turret to fire on the bandits left outside. They were shooting back, too, and not unsuccessfully, especially since one had a corrosive gun - I''m not sure if it was a machine gun or a pistol - but my armor was holding up. I''d have to rebuild it thoroughly later, but for now I could rely on the work already done.


    Under the circumstances, it was irrational to use a sawshooter, as it might ricochet off some of my allies, so I switched to a machine gun - but I only fired a couple of shots when I had the chance. A new bandit buggy that suddenly appeared almost hit me, but I only lost a few armor plates, and the space in front of the gate that was lying on the ground - I think it was broken by a corrosive grenade - was cleared. Unfortunately, the concrete barriers in front of the gate prevented me from driving inside to join the fun in my car, but I was able to shoot a couple of bandits outside as well - though they were trying to use cover, they were taking cover from the fire coming from the opposite side. The fire from my turret was damaging the houses of the settlement, behind which they were taking cover, but fuck them.


    And from the other end of the settlement was firing - also a turret. It was covered by a shield, not by a normal dome, but by a half-ring, but then this shield was destabilized, unable to withstand the bandit fire.


    Then the turret went silent, and one of the bandit big men, with an axe in one hand and a cannon in the other, ran toward it, intending to dismantle it.


    In vain. Whatever caused the turret''s autocannon to hiccup - out of ammunition, reloading, some kind of malfunction - it had other arguments: the mini-missile blew the big guy to smithereens.


    And then a man jumped from the roof of one of the buildings, right between the three bandits. The first was hit in the temple with a shotgun butt and fell to the ground; the second caught a volley of buckshot in the face. The third was knocked to the ground by a sweeping kick and immediately shot by dark-skinned man in some sort of armor, with a large shoulder pad on his left arm.


    From behind a garbage can near a neighboring building a bandit with a rifle in his hands came out, but the black man, without turning around, waved his hand in his direction, and the bandit fell on his back, with the hilt of his knife sticking out of his eye socket.


    "Another familiar type," reported the ECHO. - "And he wants to talk..."


    - Roland here, - a man''s voice said as I opened the channel. - Thank you for your support, but this may not be all. We need to check the neighborhood.


    - I''ll drive around, - I answered, and then I heard a rumbling sound. And then... Where did it come from, and whose sick mind had created this monstrosity?


    Probably the closest relatives of this thing were the orc Garganthas of the forty-thousand year. A huge, though not comparable to the Garganthas (only four meters in height) relatively humanoid combat robot, assembled from various garbage and miscellaneous parts, mostly buggy hulls, it seems.


    With a large cannon between its legs.


    "MechaDickerXL," the ECHO reported. - "Big thing, isn''t it?"


    I stepped on the pedal, and just in time: the MechaDicker''s main caliber roared, making the ground at the point of impact erupt in a fountain. My car''s armour wouldn''t save me from that gun, even if it was in perfect condition...


    At least it helped against a couple of machine guns in the mecha''s hands. For now.


    I was going full speed, wiggling back and forth, hoping I wouldn''t flip over, and that my turret was having some effect on this monster.


    - Looks like a problem, - Roland said thoughtfully over the comms.


    - No, it doesn''t "look", - I replied venomously. - That''s what it is. Full size.


    Fucking Angel with her fucked-up eyeliner. I don''t think it''s her, though - I noted pilot in the robot''s torso.


    - Hold on, - the black man said briefly, and then stopped talking. Damn, I don''t even have grenades, and I don''t have a chance to shoot with corrosive - everything goes to evasion attempts...


    The attempt to go behind "Dicker"''s back was not very successful: his body, as it turned out, could rotate 360 degrees quite quickly, and he kept pouring bullets at me, some of which were damaging my armour. I don''t think this thing was going to run out of ammo anytime soon.


    My turret tried to fight back, but it didn''t do much damage. And then it went silent, damaged by one of the giant''s shots. The situation was getting really shitty; even trying to escape would only put me under fire from the main caliber. I guess I''d have to take my chances...


    ...or not. The Mech pilot, focused on me, didn''t notice the other actor. I didn''t notice when he appeared, but Roland nimbly climbed up the robot''s leg and onto its back; a little more, and he slipped the barrel of his shotgun between the metal tubes, rods, and plates that made up the MechaDicker''s torso.


    Boom! And the colossus began to topple over.


    In the first second I thought he had crushed the hero of the day, but I immediately noticed Roland standing on the ground next to his frag. David and Goliath...


    - Shall we talk? - he said out loud, looking in my direction.

 The first step after a long journey.

    - Roland, - the black man introduced himself. After a little hesitation, he added: - Mercenary.


    I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Atlas inscription on his armor. Noticing my gaze, Roland grimaced.


    - Used to be a Crimson Lance fighter. Now freelancing.


    I nodded.


    - Pyotr Dyatlov.


    With those words, I handed him a business card that read, "Pyotr Dyatlov, technically a technical worker of the Vladoff and their trade representative, in fact a general mercenary. From skag hunting to designing and fixing coffee makers." After studying both sides of the card, Roland digitized it.


    - Did Angel send you? - He asked. I nodded.


    - Yup. Despite her dubiousness, I decided to check it out.


    - Thank you for your help, it came at a good time.


    - As far as I could see, you were doing just fine on your own, - I noted. - Except that the mech might have been a bit of a problem. By the way, thank you, I was having trouble with it.


    - Let''s consider that we helped each other - answered the ex-Atlasovian. - And civilians.


    I chuckled.


    - Technically, everyone on Pandora is a civilian... But you mean there are civilians in this settlement?


    Roland nodded.


    - Hiding in basements. I was hired to protect them from the bandits, but their sudden raid was unexpected.


    That made me frown slightly. It''s entirely possible that it''s just paranoia, but Angel could very well have orchestrated the whole thing, prompting the bandits to attack. In principle, even so, it was more like an attempt to create a positive impression than a trap - even MechaDicker weren''t that big a threat, really - but the civilians, judging by Roland''s words, could have been victimized. Well, that''s normal for an AI, I suppose.


    I was in no hurry to share my thoughts with Roland, however. Moreover, there is a very high probability that this electronic "lady" is eavesdropping.


    Women are like that.


    - So, it turns out that I helped you to do your job? - I asked. He looked at the inscription on my armor and smiled a little.


    - You''re right, you''re entitled to a share of the payment.


    - Let''s look at the trophies first, - I suggested. - If there''s anything I need, I''ll take it.


    Roland nodded. He studied me thoughtfully.


    - Vladoff, huh? Engineering units? - I nodded. - Were you by any chance involved in the campaign on Roneo 3?


    - Roneo 3? - I interjected. Something in my memory - my character - popped up. - "War of the Coffee Makers?"


    Details of that story kept popping up in my head, and I felt myself cringe. Roland nodded understandingly; he cringed, too.


    - I see you did. We got beat up pretty bad.


    - Us, too, - I grumbled. - Fucking Maliwans. Half my squad got boiled at the Coffee Palace. If it hadn''t been for your men, fucking coffee makers might have gotten all of us.


    - If it weren''t for yours, we wouldn''t have been able to retreat, Roland remarked. - I''ve never seen so many turrets in one place before. And all different ones at that.


    - If you want to live, you will do anything, and our turrets are dumb crazy, - I said, and man of Atlas nodded.


    As it turned out, Roland did not have any specific plans for the future, and the idea that Angel had suggested to him to take up the search for the Vault was not that he was "interested" - just that in his opinion it was an option no worse than any other. It made sense from his point of view.


    - I wasn''t going to do it myself, - I informed him. The trophies from the bandits turned out to be predictably lousy - a set of weapons from S & S and a couple of guns from Dahl and Tedior each, junk that my ECHO marked white and signed "Trash". A couple more shields and a grenade modifier, but still the same garbage level, so the most valuable thing was ammo. - But some potential tracks have popped up lately, including this Angel, so why not give it a try if it won''t be too much of a distraction from making money. The main problem is that I don''t think highly enough of myself to go into this alone, and then Angel came up again with her suggestion of finding others who might be interested. I actually wanted to talk to a couple people I know about it first, but you were the first to go. Obviously, you don''t have much reason to trust me, but consider the idea.


    Roland nodded.


    - Well, you do deserve a modicum of trust, - he said.


    I chuckled.


    - I''ll take that as a compliment, but I''d advise you to be very careful about trust, especially on Pandora.


    All in all, this incident was a positive rather than a negative. Replenishment of ammunition, some money, some experience... And, probably most importantly, meeting yet another protagonist of this story, with a positive impression made.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.    I wonder how many more of them there are left...?


    Since Roland had his own ECHO, and gave out a contact code, I didn''t rush to talk about Tannis. First I will check what I can get from her, and whether it is of any value, or she is just, as English speakers say, "red herring", and in Russian - "razvod". And then I can get in touch and let him know if I have leads.


    - I don''t buy anything on Thursdays, - said the woman whose image appeared in the augmented reality and then disconnected the connection. She did not respond to a new attempt at a video call; the ECHO reported "The called is not one of the available women". I had to send her a text message entitled "Your Lost Records."


    Two things are probably worth noting. First, what I was able to see matched the picture that emerged in my mind of listening to Patricia Tannis'' audio recordings. Second, it was Saturday.


    "Incoming video call," the ECHO announced.


    "Connect."


    - Why didn''t you tell me it was about my tapes in the first place? - Tannis asked indignantly.


    - It''s Saturday, - I informed her. - On Saturdays I don''t tell you right away that it''s not about Thursday sales.


    The woman stared at me, tilting her head to the side. I have no idea what was going through her head and I don''t want to know, but eventually she nodded.


    - In three hours and fourteen minutes, it would be Sunday.


    I glanced at the time displayed by the ECHO and nodded in agreement.


    - Do you suggest we continue then?


    - No, that was just to make small talk, - the woman nodded, then jerked her chin nervously. - So you have my notes? Are they intact, are they all right?


    - For now, yes, but their continued safety depends on your cooperation, - I replied. - Maybe I won''t even have to cut them into pieces and send them to you.


    - You are a scary man... - said Tannis with respect in her voice. - What do you want?


    - A helicopter, a million bucks, siren powers, and a ticket off Pandora would be nice... - I said thoughtfully. - But specifically from you... What can you offer?


    - Power, knowledge, and a job - immediately answered the woman.


    - The third item should be immortality - I noted. Tannis frowned.


    - Would it?


    I nodded.


    - The traditional set of services when selling a soul.


    - I''m not interested in that, - Tannis said. - What do I need your soul for? I''d like to put my owned ones somewhere...


    We stared at each other.


    - ...It was a joke, - said the woman in red. I looked at her suspiciously for a second, then nodded.


    - I suppose so. Can you tell me more about what you have to offer besides money?


    - Personally useful Eridian technology and information about the Vault. Interested?


    I nodded.


    - I''m sure you''ve read my notes, and I can assume you have enough brains to realize that I''m the leading Eridian expert on this planet, - Tannis said in a businesslike tone. - Unfortunately, after those dullards from Dahl left the planet, I''m having trouble continuing my research - just when I was close to a breakthrough! And that''s where you come in. I could use a pair of legs to run around on, and a pair of hands with a gun to do a couple things, fighting off critters along the way. I get to continue my work, you get the information you want.


    Sounds like a lot of fiddling... Also a series of story quests. I sighed.


    - I''ll see what I can do, but let''s start with your notes, which I managed to gather despite your efforts. What are you willing to give for them?


    - I can offer to pay with body, - Tannis informed me. - Yours. I have the technology to... safely enough... use the Eridian relics. The biologist assured me that it worked like clockwork before he died.


    - A questionable, untried adaptation of alien technology? - Raising an eyebrow, I inquired. - How could I refuse?


    - I thought so - Tannis nodded.


    "Level up!"


    In the end, after some thought, I still used the archive sent to me, which contained three files: a schematic for digitally constructing a device that looked like a large jewel frame or a small photo frame, a program for analyzing the properties of Eridian relics, and a digitized relic that increased physical strength. More specifically, ECHO labeled it "Increase in muscle efficiency/arm attacks (minor)."


    I''m going to hope ECHO or auto-medikit will pick up on this if something''s wrong. But I''ll level up Field Medic just in case.


    All right. I guess I can officially be considered a Vault Hunter from now on after all.

 Beauty and the Beast and stuff like that.

    To paraphrase Tannis, the Eridian script is a mockery.


    Well, maybe the Eridians had a normal writing, but no samples of it could be found; what survived were mostly mental impressions written on peculiar patterns in stone - sometimes on the walls of ruins, but also on rocks. And this stuff was almost untransportable.


    It''s not even about the difficulty of carving them out of solid rock. Although eridian architecture is extremely strong, but even it is quite possible to cut it with the right tools, and with ordinary stone it even easier. The problem is that it appears that although the center of the writings is the pattern, they are at least partially spread throughout the supporting object. And to transport a whole rock... I, at least, was obviously unable to do that.


    So my task as "archaeologist''s assistant" was extremely simple: arrive at the site, kill anything around that might be dangerous, find the imprint, report back to Tannis.


    Archaeology is such an exciting science....


    Theoretically, it was possible to offer the same Roland to mop up one of the points while I mopped up another. In practice there was no sense in it: while Tannis would do her work in one place and get to another, there might be new beasts or bandits there, so this work could be done only slowly and in order. And two of us on one point is too much, this is not a corporation base, and not even a large bandit camp ...


    - Electricity is blue, fire is red, corrosion is green, you are dead... - I muttered, blasting another bandit with a shot from the Nutcracker. I still didn''t understand how the rifle worked; when it hit a man in the head, it exploded, but not in other parts of the body, so at first I thought it would somehow detonate brains, but it didn''t. Shooting a spider ant''s abdomen had the same effect, and it''s obviously very different from human brains, even bandit''s brains. Perhaps it was better to just ignore it, writing it off as a special Pandoran magic like the one that makes saws fly in a sine wave, but... Not only curiosity was gnawing, but also purely practical considerations. You need to know the properties and features of your weapon to use it effectively. So I wasted ammunition trying to understand this phenomenon. No lab rats were harmed, so it''s okay.


    By the way, that shotgun, which had a proper name, "The Wave", also had an inscription on it. "O waves, gentle waves..." Level 30 sarcasm, my ass.


    Or just black humor.


    In any case, having cleaned up the one location Tannis had specified - I chose from the list the one with an order in the ECHONET - I reported the completion to the archaeologist and the hitchhiker''s customer, and then headed for another point of interest through the FTS: the weapons container Angel had specified.


    Unfortunately, it was not easy to take the loot: there was a camp of bandits on the spot. A small settlement among the rocks - a few houses made of standard garbage structures, a pen for skags, where a couple of these large Pandoran endemics finished off their smaller brethren, and three outdoor toilet stalls - settled with a luxury. Hee.


    Dreamily imagining myself throwing a grenade down the chimney or at least through the window, I sighingly gave up the Santa career: you still have to earn a grenade, and these bandits were bad boys, as evidenced by the human, child''s hand found in the pen. Another New Year''s fairy tale, the Nutcracker, will do.


    It''s easier to deal with bandits than with corporations. Mega-corporations would have taken into account the possibility of a sniper''s visit, and at least they wouldn''t have left the windows open... Thank goodness for negligence.


    Anyway, I killed them.


    But my conscience didn''t bother me; this delicate animal was not adapted to life on Pandora at all, so it died first. Or was it humanity? Probably it was, considering my quite moderate rates for the work.


    With these thoughts I looked around, made sure that there was no threat - I decided not to touch the skags, I was sorry for the ammo, and they were asleep anyway, having eaten enough - and started collecting trophies. Well, I didn''t have enough ammo for my sniper, and I don''t think this group will have any... I should probably get a good revolver to replace my sniper at mid-range. They even come with optics.


    Thinking about it, I hastily scoured the cabins for anything of value, being careful not to get too dirty from the debris of the exploding bandits... oh. A weapons container, slightly bruised by the attempts to open it, someone was using it as a bed.


    The damage made me a little uneasy, but the locking system still worked, and responded to the electronic key - which I''d sent remotely. Even without a catch on Angel''s part, corps occasionally booby-trap their shipments, in addition to locking them, or gassing the container. And the airtightness and air recirculation system in my armor is only in the character''s memories...


    There was no catch with the one-and-a-half-foot container, though. The lid flipped open, revealing the contents secured inside, and I felt a smile curve my lips. My cutie-pie...


    A shield. Finally a proper shield...


    ...Well, "normal" is obviously a vague term, but this somewhat outdated model is still better than the one I have now. The power is noticeably higher, the processor is a bit more powerful, so it stabilizes faster. No extra features that corporations often add for "individuality" and "specialty", but better protection than the one I''m using now, and that''s enough - I don''t really need options like an explosion when the shield destabilizes, even if harmless to the user, or adrenaline injection.


    Though an "aggressive shield" that hits those who hit it would come in handy against the varkids, for example. Well, whatever.


    In addition, the container contained an automatic rifle and a pistol from Atlas, quite decent guns, but nothing outstanding (although the pistol, perhaps, can be used), plus some ammunition and a block of grenades. Always useful.


    If Santa Claus doesn''t bring me presents, I''ll do it myself.


    Treasure (well, as much as a container of weapons can be called such), archaeology, the oddities of the world - but even with all that, I haven''t forgotten about making money. On Pandora, there''s always someone to shoot for money, or someone to fix something after someone''s been tried.


    I don''t usually take jobs with vague descriptions. If you need to kill someone, tell me who, why, and where to find them. If you need to fix something, what kind of device, at least take a picture. So to the announcement "there is a strange monster near my house, do something about it, I''ll pay" I would not have reacted, if not for the addition of "at least find out what the hell it is". It''s one thing to prove that you killed the unknown something that was bothering the customer, and quite another to look around and take a picture of the animal you caught. Both safer and much easier.


    The problem was that I wasn''t a hunter, but I''d learned something from my conversations with Mordecai - he wasn''t exactly verbose, but there was a lot of useful information to be gleaned from his words - and it wouldn''t hurt to practice those skills, at least the basics. The work of shooting certain animals, mainly the leaders of skag packs, is quite common, but you need to find them first.


    Anyway, given that the job was more or less around one of the areas on Tannis'' list, I took it. After all, it''s not an obligation, and at most I''ll lose time, which isn''t exactly a tight squeeze.


    Perhaps the main problem in tracking a beast on Pandora is the dusty, rocky ground, the tracks on which are quickly blown away by the wind. Nevertheless, even so the skags are easy to track: their claws leave well-distinguishable traces even on the stone, and near their lairs skags leave similar marks on purpose, plus piles of droppings. Most of the other Pandoran fauna also leave their tracks, by which you can recognize their presence. There''s even an ECHO app that identifies them; in fact, there are even hunting bots used in place of hound dogs and bird catchers. Not sure about their effectiveness, but still.


    Anyway, the bottom line is that, at the level I needed, it was much easier than I feared. It was fairly easy to pick up the trail; the scratches were large, deep, and even despite the dust and sand were clearly visible in places. The app reported that it was "Trace of a large alpha male skag, 90% probability," and even plotted in augmented reality the path the beast had traveled, adjusted as additional tracks were found. All I had to do was move along that path, looking for new claw marks.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.    While "alpha claw" was not the only option for what had spooked the client, it was the most likely and obvious. Take a picture, send it to the client, and if he agrees, which is similar to what he saw, kill the beast and get the password to the archive with payment (since I didn''t take any guarantees, the archive itself was in a vault on the net). The job looked easy, and nothing, as they say, did not bode unwell.


    - Did you see it? - I asked the emptiness under my nose. I could understand, the sight was quite unexpected even for Pandora: a girl was tied to a large stone, sticking out of the ground like a fang. - Who ties people like that? Either tie them up properly, or don''t tie them up at all!


    Even from a distance it was noticeable that the ropes were wrapped as they were and not tightened. And the ropes were junk - they looked like they were ready to come apart if you looked too closely.


    That was the main reason why I didn''t hurry to approach and help: judging by the way and with what the girl was tied, she could get loose at any moment by will. And, accordingly, I with my attempted "rescue" would just look stupid.


    So instead of foolish chivalry, I settled down, covered myself with a maskset, and began to watch through the scope of the Nutcracker.


    The girl was... pretty, I had to admit. About... twenty years old? It was hard to tell, people on Pandora tended to look older than they were until a certain age, and then considerably younger. Moxie... I wouldn''t risk asking her age, but I got the impression from some hints and reservations that she was considerably older than she looked.


    In any case, this "sacrifice to the dragon" was slim, trim to the point of thinness, but by no means emaciated; her ragged and shabby clothes were complemented by armor plates on her shins and forearms, once again confirming the dubiousness of the whole scene: who would leave armor and weapons to a victim? And judging by the ECHO on her thigh, she was not unarmed.


    Unfortunately, I was on the side, so I couldn''t see her face, but her figure was very nice. Her breasts were noticeably smaller than Moxie''s, but they were also attractive, especially since she was generally a little smaller than Jim''s ex; and when my eyes moved away from her breasts, her red hair was... dusty, unfortunately, but still colorful.


    I''ll have to offer to organize a shower for her, for a modest fee. I have a digital construction scheme and enough resources. Enough, right?


    I took my eyes off the observation to do a revision, and when I looked through the scope again, the situation had already changed.


    There was a skag running towards the girl tied to the rock. A common occurrence on Pandora, but this particular individual stood out in a big way.


    It was the fucking craziest planet in the foreseeable vicinity a true megaskag. This thing was as big as if it had single-handedly devoured an entire pack of its kin, if not two.


    It also had a single, short and crooked, horn on its head, so I even doubted for a couple of seconds that I was correct. The echo, however, confirmed, "Megaskag, threat level: 13." Judging by that number, I was very right not to go near the rock... but on the other hand, one would hope that the girl knew what she was doing. Perhaps i should help her escape...?


    I glanced over at my nearby parked buggy - and almost missed the fire show.


    Skag, who was frozen in the distance and sniffing at the "victim", slowly rushed towards her, and when he was a couple of meters away from the girl, she - exploded...?


    The wave of fire was very similar to the effect of some shields, and my first thought was that the skag had grabbed her, activating that particular property of the shield. However, I immediately noticed that the girl was not in the epicenter of the explosion, nor anywhere in sight.


    Before I could even process it - a doll with a bomb, like the one Jim had made...? But she was moving... - the girl appeared out of nowhere behind the megaskag with another blast of flame around her. Immediately, flashes and the clatter of SG began to come off one of her hands, and the other... some sort of shock weapon, a pistol probably? A blue flash, though noticeably more voluminous than you''d get from a pistol, but flatter than a shotgun.


    Whatever it was, the megaskag wasn''t impressed. The series of attacks definitely did some damage to it, but not enough; the hide of even regular skags isn''t easy to penetrate, alphas are even thicker and more durable, and this monster could probably withstand a hit from a small cannon.


    The beast spun around quickly, especially for such a big body, and tried to claw the girl; she barely had time to bounce back, and immediately jumped to the side again, avoiding the skag''s jerk. In the meantime, she kept firing, but only with the SG; I found her other hand empty.


    Strange, but not important for now.


    Beautiful tit... girls are a value I wouldn''t want to lose, much less turn into skag fodder. So it''s time for me to step in.


    A skag''s basic speed, whether in a spurt or a run, is developed by pushing off the ground with powerful hind legs with large support claws on them; that''s why they leave scratches on the stone. These claws are not weapons, but tools of mobility.


    Consequently, damaged hind legs severely limit that mobility.


    I took aim at a relatively vulnerable spot on the right hind leg, not covered by the horny plates on the hide, chose the moment when the skag was preparing for a new leap... shot!


    There was no explosion, unfortunately. But at least there was a penetration.


    The wound wasn''t as serious as I would have liked - my weapon is a "gun", not a "cannon" - but the megaskag''s jerk had gone sideways; the wounded leg had failed him. I grimaced as I assessed the amount of ammo I had left, but took aim again. After all, this was an opportunity to get a good chunk of exp - there should be plenty for such a beast.


    I hit again, which with a beast of this size wasn''t surprising, but the effect was regrettably weak. At least higher than the SG bullets in the girl''s hands, but I wouldn''t say that was much consolation.


    The third shot again thwarted the megaskag''s attack on the hastily reloading girl, and my cartridge block was depleted as well. Man, that''s a good gun, but only three rounds...


    Instead of reloading, I ran to my car. Hopefully the tit... girl would last a few more seconds.


    - The cavalry has arrived! - I yelled, pointing my car straight at the beast. It swerved toward the bigger threat, but I swerved a little, and slammed into its side.


    I couldn''t accelerate properly on the rocky surface, and the thing was probably more massive than my transport, but the impact was still significant; the megaskag was knocked off its feet and tossed aside, while my turret continued to blare its war song.


    ...I rejoiced early. A large lump of acidic saliva, gastric juice, or whatever the skags regurgitate, shot out of the creature''s mouth as it struggled to get to its feet, and the turret fell silent. And then I found a beam of light falling on the top of my head, and the sky above me....


    I jumped out of the car faster than a lover gets out of bed when husband rings the doorbell. I knew I shouldn''t get involved with strange girls, it wouldn''t lead to anything good... Tits lead to ass. And in what way, that''s up to you.


    I opened fire with Wave shotgun before I even jumped. Ricochets are a threat, but skag is even more dangerous, and here is an open space - almost, there are boulders - and this is the most powerful gun in my arsenal.


    There were no ricochets: the disks were stuck in the hide. The wounds were less deep than I would have liked, but definitely painful: the beast roared in pain as it opened its strange maw.


    The next moment a scene unfolded before me, perhaps even more badass than when Brick had taken out the bandit buggies. The girl, at close quarters evoking the now familiar feeling of familiarity, reappeared in plain sight. In her hands, instead of a useless SG, were three grenades - which she shoved into the open mouth of the skag, sticking her hands almost shoulder-deep in it.


    And the next second she exploded.


    This time, though, I managed to see her disappear, as if fading into a hologram. It was like being digitized, but not in parts, but all over my body evenly.


    The wave of fire wasn''t really an explosion; there was no blast wave, only a fire wave. The heat, however, was palpable, so I recoiled, still firing.


    A second more, and with another wave of fire, the girl appeared on the other side of the beast. A blue flash struck from her empty hand, and as if that were a signal, the skag swelled up.


    With a resounding pop, its belly swelled to twice its size, if not three times, and I expected it to burst - but no, the strength of the hide was monstrous, and the grenades were budget-friendly.


    Black smoke erupted from the skag''s mouth, and it slumped to the side again.


    It didn''t move again.


    I shifted my gaze to the girl staring at him.


    "Lilith, Siren," the augmented reality device reported. - "Tis witch is hot..."


    She shifted her gaze to me.


    And complained.


    - This is some kind of wrong unicorn...


    "What a virgin - such is a unicorn," I might have said.


    If I wasn''t afraid of being roasted.

 A sense of sisterhood.

    My new acquaintance staged her performance, as it turned out, ultimately for the same reason why I was here: because of the megaskag. She saw a message on the ECHOnet about a "unicorn", with hand-drawn sketches - extremely approximate sketches - and decided to catch the mythical beast, for which they also promised a reward. Well, and, remembering the legend that has survived to the present time and place, she tried to lure the beast to a virgin.


    I would have said "So big, and yet she believes in fairy tales", if not for... um, basically everything. Starting with my arrival on Pandora, and ending with her own abilities. In general, it is not for me to judge someone for believing in "mythical creatures", especially standing on the corpse of one.


    Actually, a reality traveller is also a mythical creature.


    Anyway, I looked at the girl, at the trophy (took a photo, sent it to the client), and got to the point.


    - Coffee? - I offered. - A hot bath?


    Lilith raised an eyebrow, studying me appraisingly.


    - Is that a pick up line? - she inquired.


    - It''s a business proposition, - I said, jabbing a finger at the inscription on my armor. And then I said, - It''s by low price. And I won''t even charge for the rescue, just for the first time.


    - Hey, I killed him! - The girl was immediately indignant.


    I shrugged.


    - That''s why I don''t charge. Despite the loss incurred...


    I glanced toward the buggy. Actually, it wasn''t so bad; although it had lost its turret and most of the roof, it was still running and could be reconstructed at the nearest "rent-a-car". Using my materials, Scooter wouldn''t even take payment.


    - Well, plus a discount for the beauty, - I continued. The girl looked at me skeptically and a little arrogantly.


    - Coffee? - She asked again, apparently deciding to change the subject. I nodded and climbed into the remains of the buggy; a couple seconds, and a coffee maker and a couple cups came into view.


    The girl looked at me... oddly.


    - Oh, I see you''re new to Pandora - I remarked. She frowned.


    - How did you determine that?


    I shrugged again.


    - You''re still surprised by this sort of thing, so you haven''t been here more than a week. - Looking around, I set the ''set'' on the skag carcass, then started digitally constructing chairs.


    - A test cup is free... or rather, in exchange for a communication code, - I continued.


    - A pick up - this time it sounded affirmative. I shook my head negatively, and began digitally building a table.


    - No, just an assessment of your potential and the possibility of continuing the business. Although... - this time I looked at her evaluatively. - Young lady, are you free this evening? I have some wonderful packs of skags and gangs, in the joint extermination of which can we spent unforgettable romantic night on Pandora...


    - Insolent¡­ - Lilith''s voice sounded cheerful, though. She sat down on the carcass of a megaskag instead of a chair, but she took the cup of coffee. She looked at the contents, sniffed. - Do you have any milk?


    The amusement in her voice was replaced by sadness.


    - Alas - I shrugged my shoulders. - I suffer from it myself, but it''s in short supply on Pandora. But I can offer you a tangerine.


    - Is it by low price? - The siren grinned. I nodded.


    She refused the bath - and the shower, because the bath was more difficult - but she kept her phone number, and took mine. Lilith - an interesting name, by the way... - had taken the head of the megaskag; a certain "Hammerlock" had promised to pay her for it. My client, for his part, was satisfied with the video, but asked for a souvenir; Lilith wouldn''t let me cut off the horn (and I wouldn''t have let her do it myself in her place), so I had to settle for a paw. A lucky skag paw, weighing in at 6 kilograms....


    ...Seems really happy. In the process of scraping it off - I had already said goodbye to Lilith by giving her my ECHO code and Moxie''s address - I came across two objects between the skag''s legs: an elongated one, like a sausage, and a more or less spherical one....


    ...Okay. There''s definitely something that needs to be clarified. I don''t know, and I don''t want to know, what a skag''s genitals look like, I''ve had enough of their droppings. I''m talking about the objects that my ECHO noted as objects of interest lodged in the body of this thing, either under the skin or in it.


    Both, as it turned out. The first object looked most like a limb fragment of that Eridian flying thing that gave me trouble at the archeological site; the second... A polyhedron of light-colored material that looked like stone.


    "An Eridian relic. Effect: marked increase in vitality and muscle mass."


    So that''s why this thing got so big... Even with Tannis''s Adapter, I wouldn''t risk using it, but it''s still valuable, so I put it in the digital vault. Either I''ll sell it to my bosses or I''ll sell it.


    As I expected, restoring my clunker was no problem; I even improved it a bit. Or rather, we - on my part armor modification, and in exchange for the scheme Scooter slightly modified the car itself. Mostly small things, but of the essentials - added afterburner mode, for a short time sharply increasing speed. To escape from someone - love it...Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Compared to this unicorn adventure, mopping up another area and searching for the Eridian imprint was an ordinary unremarkable routine. Skags, skithyds, a randomly provoked pack of rakks that I had to kill all of them - nothing special, even wasted almost no ammo. A turret and a shovel, for which I''m gaining more and more respect... I would write "Excalibur" on the last one as a sign of respect, but I''m afraid no one would appreciate it - savages....


    Anyway, I cleaned up the area and sent Tannis a message with the exact coordinates of the Eridian runes. Then I thought about what to do next. I have money, no urgent matters, I''ve had more than enough adventures... It''s probably time to take a day off.


    Well, there''s only one recreation center I know of.


    - Moxie, you know I always have the utmost respect for your opinion, but this is a bit...


    The man''s voice was vaguely familiar. I stepped through the door of the bar.


    There was a man sitting on one of the stools in front of the bar. He wore a thick, shabby light brown jacket - skag hide, I think - with neatly tousled short dark hair and what was, admittedly, a rather stylish beard. Noticeably full, but not excessively so.


    And again vaguely familiar.


    "Marcus Kincaid," the ECHO obligingly reported. - "No refunds on guns."


    ...§°h.


    I looked around, made sure there were almost no customers in the bar right now, and stepped forward.


    - Mr. Kincaid, - I said grimly, and the fat man turned around, standing up. - You''ve made a big mistake.


    - No gunfights in my bar, dearie, - Moxie almost sang out. I didn''t realize at all at what point a shotgun appeared on the bar. - It''s the loss of a good show, there''s an arena for that.


    - What kind of gunfights? - I was surprised. - I''m saying this... gentleman made a big mistake. Potentially affecting us all.


    There was a silence in which Marcus glanced at me, at my unarmed hands, and turned cautiously to Moxie, removing his hand from the revolver on his hip.


    - Do you know what he''s talking about? - He inquired.


    - Mr. Dyatlov, - Moxie answered instead. - It would be nice if you could enlighten us. I''m curious, too, since I was expecting... a different reaction to such an encounter.


    I shrugged.


    - Well, objectively speaking, I have reasons to shoot Mr. Kincaid, but I''m not sure if it smart, and I certainly don''t intend to do it here and now. Basically, I suppose a lot of us have reasons to shoot the people we regularly drink with around here...


    Moxie mumbled something like "mmm...", Marcus hummed, and the edge of his lips lifted slightly in a hint of a smile. I continued.


    - However, there is a fact: his actions were a big mistake that could lead to unpleasant consequences, and something needs to be done about it. Specifically... where would be a better place to start... well, the result of Mr. Kincaid''s rash actions could be the little needed presence of the Vladoff on Pandora.


    Moxie... no, she didn''t frown. But I think I''ve got her attention.


    - Let''s start at the beginning, - I raised my index finger. - I, as the official representative of the Vladoff... shall I sit down?


    Moxie nodded; the shotgun was gone, and I took a chair a couple positions away from the arms dealer.


    - I, as the official representative of the Vladoff, have set up shop. Mr. Kincaid thought it was competition to get rid of, and he''d put thugs on the settlement.


    I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow; he shrugged.


    - It''s Pandora. It happens.


    No denial, I see.


    - It happens, - I agreed. - But let''s take a look at what came before, and what might come after. Before - there was one small trading point, showing the Vladoff that there is minimal profit on Pandora, because of which there is no point in moving. After - an incident that can make the corporation move to check who encroached on their property and profits, and ultimately find out that Pandora''s trading prospects are much more interesting than they thought. And then, Mr. Kincaid, you will really have competition.


    The man and the woman exchanged glances.


    - That would not be the best turn, - the fat man carefully noted. He glanced at Moxie. - Looks like you''re right after all... as usual.


    He turned his gaze to me.


    - Ideas?


    I shrugged.


    - The easiest and most obvious would be to reinstate the trading post and send the corporation the lost profits for the period to make it look like a simple delay.


    Marcus grimaced. He raised a hand and rubbed his temples.


    - Any other options? - he finally asked.


    - I don''t know - I shrugged. - Do you have any?


    - Congratulations, dearie, - Moxie''s voice was oddly thoughtful. The deeply depressed Marcus had already left, the customers had left the bar too, so Moxie and I were alone... hopefully she had no complaints. - You''re the second person on this planet to fuck Marcus. After me, actually. You know, it''s a bonding experience.

 Self-confidence and sanity.

    Self-confidence and sanity.


    I''m a real man, with a capital letter M! I''ve taken down dozens of alien monsters and bandits, I''m surviving on an unfriendly planet! So why do I feel like I''ve been fucked over like a naive schoolgirl?


    Probably because that''s exactly what happened.


    Moxie seems to have a thing for being at the top of the "who''s having it" list. Nah, I can understand her, but... okay, bygones.


    When I finally regenerated my pelvis and back and was able to get out of bed, I found a familiar face at one of the bar tables.


    - You look like you fought hard, - Lilith remarked, swallowing a bite of hamburger. - You haven''t been this ragged since the unicorn.


    She talks like we''ve known each other a long time... It''s for the best, I suppose.


    - Uh-huh. - I sighed. - A desperate battle with the boss of the zone.


    - And how was the result? - The girl asked. She eat her sandwich ad sipped drink from a tall brown mug.


    - A draw - I reported, flattering myself a little. - But I''m not going to take a rematch anytime soon. I need to be sober about my strengths.


    - Debatable, on both counts, - another female voice said, and I flinched. Shit, where and when did Moxie come from behind the counter...? - But the result was well worth it, sugar.


    - Speaking of which - Lilith remarked, clearly (and probably fortunately) getting it all wrong. Well, judging by her next words. - What about my work?


    - Just a couple minutes, dearie, - Moxie said. - First up, our hero of the day.


    I walked up to the counter.


    - Ms. Moxie, - I said, not quite sure how to address her. - Do you happen to have any succubi in your family?


    - Hmm? - She said questioningly, raising an eyebrow. - I don''t recall. Furies, no succubi.


    You''d have to wonder how to take that. There''s a joke in every joke, especially in this crazy world.


    - In that case, breakfast, - I nodded.


    While I was eating breakfast, Lilith had time to get her job and leave, but another MC I knew appeared at the bar: Brick. The big guy looked a little dazed, and when he saw me, he came toward me.


    - Great - he said; I nodded. - Listen, you''ve been on this planet longer than me, right? - I nodded again. - Do you know who that weirdo is, the bony one with the blue eyes? He''s either a magician or a traveling doctor.


    ...We-ell.


    As I suspected, Brick met Death... or Death met Brick, heh. And it was, frankly, outrageous.


    - Anything you''d like to say? - I asked, looking up at the sky. - I don''t have the best opinion of you, but I thought you were playing fair. And here it turns out that I lost the drone, and everyone got an advantage for it? Is that it?


    "Incoming message received!"


    "Well, for my sake, if you''ve got Second Breath, protagonists cannot to not have it. Besides, you''ve managed to get an inappropriate bonus ahead of the plot again. Eridian relics actually started to be used much later, and you''re already using the adapter."


    - That doesn''t mean I have to pay for everyone, - I pointed out. - I get my bonuses fairly. If you claim you stick to fair play, stick to it until the end.


    "Incoming message received!"


    "..."


    "Incoming message received!"


    "..."


    Seriously, two messages with multiple dots.


    "Incoming message received!"


    "...Okay. Is it okay if the Vladoff don''t pay attention to the ammo overruns from all your turrets? All will be connected to the supply module."


    I wondered. Well, that''s fair enough, in my opinion. Brings it closer to game mechanics - I''m sure that''s how it would be there, that all turrets don''t use up my ammo - instead of away from it, and quite convenient for me.


    - Ok. I hope it continues to be fair, otherwise why set it up in the first place.


    In fact, overall with this arrangement, I remain on the plus side, and quite significantly so. The main problem with multiple turrets is that they eat up my ammo. If I don''t have that problem... Well, quantity turns to quality.


    I smiled involuntarily. Life is looks bright!


    Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*!


    I shot behind my back at the sound and immediately jumped sideways; the skag landed heavily on the footprint my feet left in the dust. Swiftly I turned around, hesitating due to the bullet in my side. Alas, my revolver wasn''t powerful enough to do much damage, not enough to kill, but it is something still. I''d have to get to that dump truck ahead... I''d already gotten rid of the rakks, but the shotgun was out of ammo.


    It started out pretty good. Another point in the Dahl quarry indicated by Tannis, some side work, I even found something to sell in the workers'' cabins (and Claptrap found someone''s stash). Then I left the doucherobot to snoop around the huts and beyond, and headed out to mop up the area myself. Another colony of skithyds was destroyed easily, making me relax.


    Unwisely. Relaxing on Pandora was fraught with danger.


    Stolen novel; please report.    The signs of a skag pack were obvious; piles of droppings, plus burrows in the quarry walls. So I set up the turrets, and walked up to the dens, luring the skags out. The first batch of critters bent easily and cheerfully, and then...


    I don''t think I need the adults. The ones that came out next.


    Alpha skag, threat level 11. And that might not have been such a problem - the beast was nowhere near that megascag - if it hadn''t been for two factors.


    For starters, it wasn''t a regular alpha, but an "elemental". I have no idea how this absurdity works ("Pandora" answers all questions just like "Magic" in some other setting), but some local mutants have... I''m not even sure how to put it... "charged" with the "element". I wouldn''t be surprised if it''s because of the Maliwan guns that were eaten - the "elements" are the same.


    This one, with the green skin, was corrosive. And while normal skag burp quickly ate through metal, this one had... My poor turret melted like a candle in an oven from one spit.


    And then came the second alpha.


    In this situation, the most reasonable thing to do was to scramble, which I hurriedly did.


    ...It was definitely my bad day. From somewhere up the slope, a pack of rakks took to the air. Those things aren''t really dangerous on their own, just territorial and annoying, but when they attack together with someone else, from the ground and from the air... it becomes a problem.


    Like it was not problem before.


    The grenade - how quickly they''re used up... - made the acid creature hesitate and growl, but alas, it wasn''t enough to kill the alpha. At least it gave me a chance to fire a shotgun volley at the diving rakks, halving the pack (at least someone on this planet is fragile... relatively), and to look for a place to take the fight - a dump with piles of waste rock and a couple of abandoned dump trucks. By the way, the mystery of the abandoned equipment was explained simply: there was no valuable technical stuffing left in these giants, all digitized and taken away, leaving only metal hulks.


    The second skag got the remains of the "Wave" ammo block, and he (she?) did not like this gift. Reload on the run - why can''t ECHO send ammo directly into the gun?!.. - and immediately unload again, first at the second half of the flock of restless rakks, and then at the angry skags... and not get spat on. I definitely will no longer go out on a mission without a ceramic layer in my armor.


    A puddle of skag burp began to dissolve the stones - but still slowly - and I, with a heavy heart, threw the second grenade. Only one left...


    The plus was that this sacrifice was not in vain: the explosion covered both alphas, and their health, along with greetings from "Wave", fell below half. The minus was that I suddenly ran out of ammo blocks for the shotgun. "Wave" is a powerful thing, but it uses double the amount of ammunition for each shot.


    Unfortunately, machine gun fire was much less effective, and there was no way to catch the skags with a shot in their vulnerable mouths - I''d have to save my skin amidst their spitting and jumping... The hope was that piles of rock and trucks would provide some cover, especially if I managed to kill the corrosive skag first.


    The last grenade... My heart was bleeding. But I''d rather it bleed than spill out.


    Throw... shit. The learned creatures leapt to the sides. The corrosive crouched down and growled, opening its mouth... and immediately received a line from the machine gun, I emptied the entire pabe.


    The skag''s health bar is empty. Kudos to you... Vladoff, I guess.


    Dealing with the lone remaining skag was relatively easy, and it rewarded me with a new level boost, but this incident was a sobering shower for me. I''ve been getting overconfident lately; unnecessarily so, as practice shows. In general, Pandora has been a bad influence on me; I''ve become much more likely to do rash things, more impulsive in general. This is uncharacteristic of either me, the Earthling, or my character. In the future, my motto should be "Caution, Preparation, and Self-Control".


    It''s decided, I''ll do it. And no risk if it can be avoided.


    * * *


    All in all, Pandora turned out to be an interesting place. At least here, Siren was free to use her abilities without fear of being burned at the stake, or burning someone''s property. What''s more, her abilities also allowed her to earn money...


    It was dangerous at times, yes. But she wasn''t unused to danger.


    On the other hand, some jobs were too risky for her alone. Or simply required missing skills.


    Nothing unsolvable, though.


    She made a call to the code stored in the ECHO. Paused for about five seconds, and the call was answered.


    - Hey, what are you doing now? - The girl asked.


    - I''m running - the man on the other end of the line responded. The sounds of gunshots could be heard, then - a roar and the sounds of blows. - No fucking risk... I apologize.


    - If you''re busy, I can call back later - Lilith suggested, listening with curiosity.


    - No, I''m available for a chat with a beautiful girl, even for free - the engineer responded. - I''ll just wash off the blood so that the shovel doesn''t rust...


    The girl decided that this definitely deserved a story. However, later.


    - You invited me to a romantic walk with the extermination of bandits and skags - she said. - Well, I have a counterproposal. How would you feel about a little romantic fire genocide of varkids?


    There was a short pause.


    - Lady, well, how could I turn down such proposal?


    Lilith grinned. It sounds like it would be fun.

 Dangerous women, dangerous plans.

    Working with Lilith was... interesting. My character had a history of dealing with either civilians or mercenaries; in this case, it was probably something in between. The girl definitely had experience in survival and, well, not professional mercenary work, but something close to it, so she didn''t have problems inherent to civilians like insecurity and tendency to panic, and she knew how to use weapons well, and any kind of weapon (although she preferred SG), but she had her own problems that needed to be corrected. First of all, she had very little, if any, experience in teamwork. And only half the trouble was with role-sharing and the like; more problematic was that she nearly fried me when she used her ability. Fortunately, she has a fair measure of control over the fire that occurs when she uses her ability, so it''s a matter of practice and consideration, but the difficulties are there.


    The second problem... well, this too is a matter of practice, generally speaking. Simply, the girl didn''t know Pandora very well, and tended to underestimate it. I''m not an expert on the planet myself, obviously, but in the short time I''ve been here I''ve learned to respect it - in a bad way - and to be wary of it.


    All in all, working together with the girl was good for me - especially for the future - but it was good for her first and foremost. Whatever "mysterious cosmic powers" the "siren" possesses, I''m 100% sure that Pandora is more than capable of chewing her up and digesting her without even noticing. Much more in her favor is the fact that she''s obviously one of the main characters in the story. Plot armor is stupid to underestimate, even if AlBa honestly intends to play honest, pardon the tautology. And he does seem to be playing along with that, though it''s hard to tell how much.


    As for the "siren" abilities - they were entertaining, albeit rather odd. I didn''t really question her - we''re not that close - but some things were obvious. Her main ability, outwardly similar to delayed teleport, was actually closer to invisibility, with the addition of waves of fire when entering and exiting this sorta-invisibility. From what I understand, modern technology is quite capable of recreating this, at least in appearance; personal cloaking systems are rare but not unknown, and similar fire blasts are an option on some shields. All of which raises some vague questions about the nature of her powers.


    That wasn''t the only thing Lilith could do, however. For example, she could create an energy blast from her hand, which I had mistaken for a weapon when I first met her. It was only about half a meter long, not very powerful, but it was spectacular. She also seemed to have the rudiments of pyro- and electrokinesis, and used them almost unconsciously, both for defense and attack. The latter, however, in a rather odd way: nothing obvious, but as we worked together, I noticed again and again that her preferred elemental weapons were clearly more effective than they should be. I even checked; yes, in my hands, the same SG hits weaker. Interesting.


    Anyway... I''ve held off on the "main quest" for now, especially since it''s kind of progressing as it is - Tannis is working on the Eridian records. In the meantime, I''m going to try to more or less get the main characters, and them, to cooperate with each other. Lilith''s call, so, was a surprise, but a pleasant surprise. And money is money.


    The client we met in person was a large broad-shouldered man with a limp on his right leg. As he said, "I used to be a security guard for a corporation, but then a bullet hit me in the leg, and I realized that I''d rather be on the road of adventure... And then I settled down as a farmer." In general, a deserter, quite well, judging by the size of the farm and the order, settled down on this crazy planet.


    As for the order - to clean up the territory, to fix the mobile drilling rig, to send the indicators, depending on them to conduct a second test drilling in another point. Nothing special, but Lilith couldn''t handle the technical part herself - she had no knowledge or licenses. In fact, the only reason she took the job was because she remembered me.


    Come, kill, leave. Routine. Only livened up by incidents like the time the siren nearly fried me, and a smattering of conversation along the way and in the process. Obviously, we didn''t pour our hearts out to each other, but no time passed in silence.


    I found out that the girl had never heard of the planet Earth, but she knew the planets Water, Mud, and Peanut Butter. She found out that most of an engineer''s work is coffee makers, and that I get tangerines from my nominal boss instead of a salary. All in all, a very informative conversation.


    - What can you tell me about the Vault? - Finally, the girl got to the point. I shrugged.


    - It''s there. And I strongly suspect I may get a lead on it after a while. Initially I was not going to bother with this venture, but life is so twisted at times... There is, however, a hitch. I''m a tough guy, but not tough enough to compete with all the people who want to get their hands on the treasury on their own.


    - Are you recruiting? - Lilith asked.


    - Informing, - I told her. - For now, it''s still just an opportunity that may not materialize. If you think it''s better to try on your own, it''s up to you. If anything, we can always leave each other alone. We also have to live up to the issues of sharing the spoils. It''s just that it''s easier to live up to it as a team. Quantity turns to quality, after all.


    - Vladoff''s slogan? - Lilith asked.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.    - This too - i agreed.


    We split the fee for the work equally. Objectively speaking, I did a little more, but I wasn''t picky - money is money, relationships are relationships. I mean, in terms of the prospect of further free work. In terms of personal relationships, I''m not going for anything... especially not after Moxie anytime soon. And frankly, until I''m sure Lilith can control her abilities, I wouldn''t risk it anyway.


    All in all... Well, aside from making contact with Lilith - working contacts - I''ve gotten some ideas. Dahl''s abandoned equipment might well be put to good use; it might be worth doing something like that. At least probe the ground, for starters, and take an inventory of what I''ve seen and where. Find some laborers, surround the camp with turrets... If i aim them inside, the workers won''t even need to be paid. We could take out the bandits.


    Hmm. It''s an interesting prospect, but it''s something we''ll have to feel out and think about.


    - There''s not much use for raw materials on Pandora, dearie, - Moxie pointed out. - Without fabricators, it''s of little use, and the fabricators are all in the hands of corporations... almost all of them.


    She thought for a moment; tapped her neat, long fingernails on the counter.


    - You know, sugar... What do you think of unverified information? - she finally asked.


    - I think it should be verified - I remarked. The woman nodded.


    - That''s a good point. I have certain information that relates to your questions, but it needs to be verified.


    She tapped her sleeve, then a few taps on the holographic interface that appeared, and an image appeared of a lanky man with an elongated face and a lopsided mustache, one side shorter than the other.


    - Michael Slap - she informed me. - Was a storekeeper for the Dahl, now storekeeper for a gang, undecided on a name.


    - Not decided on the name or its called so? - I clarified.


    - Did not specified - replied the woman, looking at me and making sure that I am serious. - You can find out for yourself.


    I nodded, and she continued.


    - He might know where to find the Vanguard Support Fabricator and the keys to it.


    §°. That piqued my interest, to say the least. A Vanguard Support Fabricator is basically a field factory that''s supposed to provide advanced units cut off from supply lines with whatever they need. First of all - low quality hand weapons and ammunition, but even the typical set of schemes includes various things, including household items, and the set can be expanded. It is true that new schemes are difficult to introduce, but even so - the thing is very valuable. Hell, just the ability to produce ammunition is enough to live on! On Pandora, ammo blocks can be used instead of money.


    Which raises the question.


    - Given that you did not hold on to this information - everything is complicated? - I inquired. The woman shrugged her shoulders.


    - It''s just unverified information. And even if it turns out to be true, it''s just a first step.


    I nodded.


    - I see. Well, I guess I''ll give it a try, but still - what''s your interest?


    Moxie smiled.


    - Worried about me? That''s nice. But don''t worry, I won''t let you down.


    I''m sure you will.


    - I don''t doubt your abilities, and I don''t mind that it''s good for both of us, - I said. - Even if you end up with a bigger profit. I''d just like to know if there''s anything I should be wary of separately.


    - Nothing that could be considered a trick, sugar, - Moxie said. Despite the lighthearted words, her tone became more serious. - My interest is in the very elimination of this gang. I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.


    I frowned. Her last words didn''t sound lightweight at all. It was either personal, or she needed something on their property (more likely the latter, since she didn''t know the exact name), but either way, if Moxie hadn''t gotten rid of them yet, they were strong enough.


    - A lot of people, or well entrenched? - I inquired. - Or are there pros?


    - All together - Moxie didn''t disappoint me. - A few dozen people in a Dahl outpost with infrastructure and defenses intact, including fixed turrets, and Dahl officers at the head, with licenses to run the defenses.


    I grimaced. It wasn''t worth it to go at it alone, even with heavy weapons, which I had trouble with.


    - I''m not badass enough to storm a fortress alone, - I said. - The subject is probably sitting there unseen, isn''t he?


    - As far as I know, - Moxie agreed. It''s getting better and better... If I was holding the defense alone, that would be fine. But my "character class" is much better suited to defense than offense.


    No, I can''t do it alone.


    But if not alone¡­ Hmm. There are options. Theoretically, I could even hire someone... but I''d have to either pay or share. I don''t have much money, I don''t want to share. How can I make it so that I can be rich and healthy, and preferably without getting paid for it...?


    The door of the bar opened, and in walked-- Oh. Roland.


    Moxie and I looked at each other.


    - Mr. Dethlove, Miss Moxie, - the black man nodded to me, and focused on the hostess. Uh... Well, if I were the main character, that name would be appropriate, I guess. I could tell he''d misheard.


    I didn''t correct Roland, though, not yet.


    - Do you have a job? - The black knight asked. - I''ve heard that you can do it.


    - Actually, sugar, you''re just in time, - Moxie said. - We were just talking about that.


    Well, there you go. Now all that''s left is to contract the main character to do an impossible quest for a ridiculous small amount of money.


    Simple as that.

 Theres two of them!

    Stationary turrets... That''s a separate story. Compared to portable infantry turrets, they''re like a tank compared to a knight. In fact, it''s a whole building, not only with its own controlling AI - it''s just a bit more advanced than the one on my turret - but also with a self-supporting complex. It is true that the latter is often very economical, but nevertheless such a turret is more than capable of working without supervision and maintenance for many years and even decades.


    Dahl installed many of them on Pandora. They were very cheap for the corporation, and they guarded the borders of the areas where the Dahl worked, or set up recreational and supply centers, or farms. The simple AI directive was that any object without an identification code approaching a certain boundary would be warned first, then shot dead with a large-caliber cannon.


    The Dahl then fled without even thinking to at least disable the turrets - why do it? After all, it wasn''t their problem.


    The result was... odd, I''d say, but nothing special for Pandora.


    Most of the more or less colonized areas of the planet are still surrounded by concrete turrets, firing on anyone who tries to cross the perimeter. A kind of invisible - and lethal - wall.


    Which don''t really bother anyone, really. Aside from the fact that the most populated areas are connected by roads that are not blocked by turrets, there are a number of ways to overcome this rather sloppy and hole-filled defense. Underground passages, air - turrets can shoot down air targets, but their range is short - FTS stations, maybe something else... So this "fence" is both there and not there. Probably more good than harm, though - the turrets shoot Pandorian wildlife from outside the zones. It''s not that it stops the skags from breeding inside, and they use the underground passages, but at least it''s something.


    And somewhere these turrets are guarding some of the Dahl facilities. I''m not sure why not all of them, given that they''re quite effective; it''s probably due to the limited range, so if they decide to take the object they''re guarding seriously, they''ll just destroy it from a distance - turrets can''t shoot down artillery shells and missiles, and something more advanced can be put on an object that deserves serious defense from the start.


    In any case, there are a number of fortified objects of moderate importance, equipped with one or two turrets. Most of them are adequately protected from outsiders by these turrets - even on this insane planet, few private citizens have their own artillery and missiles, or "large caliber" lasers - but... When the Dahl escaped, they left not only their buildings and equipment, but also their personnel on Pandora.


    A lot of personnel.


    A fucking lot of personnel.


    And not just ordinary laborers, colonists, and other low-ranking folk. Among the abandoned on the planet - maybe some of them were left behind? Who knows... - there were those with certain powers and access.


    Come to think of it, Tannis is one of them.


    In any case, there were officers left on Pandora who had access to control those turrets. And some of them, when they became bandits, couldn''t help but take advantage of a gift like a fortress with cannons. A real castle that would make you a king, even an official one... And that''s what I had to deal with.


    I managed to convince Roland... well, I''m not sure if it was "as easy as expected from the protagonist and the quest", or still oriented to more realistic and less "game-like" expectations. But either way - I was able to do it. By promising a trophy share, including rewards for bandit heads, plus, if it works out, a lifetime discount on ammo.


    But before I could actually act - or rather, before I could decide whether to act - I had to do some reconnaissance. Roland may be a MC, but he was still a professional military man.


    Speaking of which, he was almost like a colleague of mine. A vanguard fighter with technical support in the form of a personal turret. And speaking of that "personal"... I remembered, or rather "remembered" something hard to say how significant, but interesting.


    Turrets of various kinds are used very widely. Why aren''t there equally widespread use of methods to hack and take control of them? And why does a deserter, which Roland is - I don''t want to say anything bad about him, I know too little about him, but it''s a fact - still have his turret, which is supposedly Atlas'' property? Well, it''s all connected.


    The AI that controls the personal turrets (and ECHO) has several layers of protection and owner recognition, at least one of which is tied to the owner''s DNA. Literally, the DNA code is used as a crypto-key. I''m still not sure why corporations don''t leave some sort of backdoor to be able to at least remotely disable, but at any rate it''s literally impossible to hack even a simple AI turret or ECHO. At the same time it is some kind of insurance against personal tech revolt, without a DNA key it can''t work.


    Obviously there are subtleties here that I don''t know about, but the big picture is this. Personal AI is unhackable, and often can''t change owners... frankly, it reminds me of familiars, a concept from fantasy, in a technogenic version.


    It would seem that personal equipment should have weaker defenses than powerful corporate installations, but the opposite is true; bosses and staff in corporations change, so it''s impractical to tie control rigidly and unchangeably to any one person. Hacking defenses are still very serious hard, but some options do appear.


    First of all, though, usually the most basic and simple is to get physical access keys. Well, or digital, the point remains, especially with the technology of digitalization, it''s practically the same thing.


    A small concrete building surrounded by a wall, roughly the same as Don Quail''s outpost. Two turret turrets controlling opposite directions, slightly smaller caliber than the border turrets, but still more than enough to kill. If there was some alternate entrance like the one again available at that outpost, no sign of it was visible. Not a lot of people were visible yet either, but there were shacks being built both behind and in front of the wall; the local boss was definitely planning to develop.


    That''s the bad news. Of the good... There was no good news.


    - We could have a sniper siege - Roland suggested thoughtfully. - Or try to impersonate the gang''s recruits, given that they''re expanding, it shouldn''t be difficult, and then start acting inside... But if we can''t get control of the turrets, it''ll be difficult to leave the facility.


    I nodded.


    - We''d have to find out who has the keys, take them alive, and force them to hand them over... Too risky, on many levels. Even without turrets it is problematic, and with them at all...


    I grimaced.


    Roland''s ECHO came to life; he frowned and looked at the device, but the next moment the situation became clearer: there was a hologram of Angel in front of us. And I wondered why she didn''t show up after the first contact...


    - If the problem is the turrets, I can help you, - she said. - I can''t hack into them, it''s beyond my capabilities, but I can affect the secondary systems and block them from firing... temporarily.


    She''s a bit too... familial, but it would actually be useful. If we can trust her.


    Roland''s presence helped, though. The protagonist isn''t going to die that easily, so this can''t be a setup to get rid of us. Especially since we haven''t done anything for this suspicious non-Shodan yet, so it''s too early to get rid of us, but it''s quite an opportunity to gain some trust.


    - I have reason to believe she can be trusted in this situation, - I said. - What do you think?


    - Hmm... - the black man said. - Angel, is there anything else you can do? Information on the floor plan, personnel, anything?


    - There are a couple of surveillance cameras in the building - after a pause the hologram answered. - I''m trying to connect to them... done.


    Two more holograms appeared next to the one representing it, showing a couple of rooms - a long empty corridor, to be more exact, and a barrack with several bunk beds, on which half a dozen people were lying.


    - Not much, - Roland said, and I nodded.


    - I''m transmitting a map of these rooms and the video feed from the cameras to your ECHOs, - Angel added, and I received a notification of an incoming message.


    - That''s something, - Roland remarked. - What about the intercom?


    - ...I think I can keep you up to date on their negotiations.


    - Now it''s beginning to look like a plan of operation, - my partner for the mission said with a nod. - We''ll be counting on your support when it begins.


    The hologram nodded and disappeared.


    - Experience in commanding idiots? - I inquired.


    - Experience in commanding idiots, - Roland nodded.


    We finally gave up on the attempt to infiltrate under the guise of wanting to join. Or rather, we adjusted the plan, because neither Roland nor I had the slightest desire to go through the "newcomers'' test". We both didn''t like robbing and beating civilians, and we didn''t want to work with them afterwards.


    So we decided to do things a little differently.


    Most gangsters are very careless and inattentive. Even if this gang is led by former officers, they are not able to eliminate such qualities in their subordinates - rather, minions - they are too low-quality human material. If the gang consisted entirely of professionals who had deserted or abandoned on Pandora, that would be another matter, but the language we captured confirmed that there were only a few of them. So instead of recruiting, we "recruited" a recruiter to pass under the guise of recruits... um. I''m surprised I didn''t get confused by that word construction myself.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    In any case, the remote-controlled bomb in the bandit''s pants - Roland''s idea, my execution - quickly induced him to cooperate. To be on the safe side, Roland and I put on face-hiding trophy gas masks, and accompanied by our "key", aka "tongue", went to the castle of the self-proclaimed Baron Flint.


    It turned out to be much easier than I expected. No one was paying much attention to us; if our "key" had signaled something, there would have been trouble, but he wasn''t taking any chances. So we just walked confidently, like people who knew what they were doing and were probably engaged in some important business, into the "castle".


    We stopped in a deserted alley - and our thug settled down with a knife in the back of his head. Roland''s quick and precise blow seemed to separate the skull from the spinal column.


    Ruthless and effective.


    Roland sat the corpse in the corner and listened. I noticed the sound of footsteps, too; the ex-Atlas man pointed his chin toward the corpse, and I nodded, sitting down beside him and patting his cheeks.


    - Dude, what''s wrong? - I said, sounding concerned. Roland stepped out into the hallway.


    - Hey, bro, come here, I need a doctor''s help, - I heard his voice say.


    - I don''t--


    - I knew you''d don''t refuse, - Roland interrupted the bandit. - You got a face just like a doctor''s.


    - Hey, I-oh, fuck you. Somebody''s drunk off their ass again, isn''t he?


    The bandit that came out of the hallway-- Uh. He had a wooden mask on his face. Anyway, I stood up and stepped aside, pointing at the corpse.


    - Wo, bro''s in bad shape...


    The masked bandit sighed and crouched down next to him... only to immediately receive a knife to the back of his head from Roland, who was following him.


    - I could use another one... - the soldier said thoughtfully, taking off his mask.


    This should have been the beginning of a story of heroic endurance and the desperate struggle of two against many in the stone bowels of a bandit stronghold. The reality, however, was somewhat different.


    Instead of a shooter, it was stealth action mixed with tower defense.


    "Look, there''s a straight corridor here on the first floor, there are rooms here. Right here" - Roland jabbed his finger at the image Angel provided - "the wall between the rooms is half destroyed. So if..."


    Two turrets at the end of the corridor. Cover them with corpses.


    We''re good to go.


    Open the door on the right, throw a cluster grenade, - Roland''s modifier - close the door. My partner was doing the same thing with the door on the other side, but instead of a grenade he threw a small black box - a compact module of the Scorpion turret.


    Most corporations have a portable turret ideology that is radically different from what Vladoff uses. If our turret is just a digital construction scheme plus network AI, the others use special modules. The main advantage is faster deployment, only a couple of seconds against about five seconds when using typical digital construction through ECHO, but such turrets are more difficult to modernize - not impossible, but more difficult - and if the module is damaged, there are difficulties with its repair, unlike the non-material-based CRETINy turrets of the Vladoff.


    The turret''s cannon rumbled to the screams of the bandits; I smashed the door with my shoulder and flew into the room, killing the big guy who had managed to survive. The room was expectedly and unpleasantly covered in blood, but there were no survivors left.


    For a second, Roland''s turret - which quickly silenced - was joined by my sweet couple''s shots; apparently someone from across the hall had jumped out into the corridor. Making sure I really didn''t have anyone alive here, I glanced at the camera image transmitted to my ECHO; the corridor was empty. Roland had managed to disappear; he got the stealth part of the event and I got the fun towers. Set up another turret in front of the doorway, and now the Wave at the ready.


    I didn''t have to wait long. The camera image showed several bandits coming down the stairs; a big guy with a shotgun, two of normal height (one with a mask, the other with just a plastered face), and a dwarf. The dwarf was holding a pilot-assault rifle and a grenade, the other two had automatic rifles.


    I waited for them to walk down the corridor, estimated their positions and trajectory from the camera, and fired a load of circular saws.


    An engineer is not only a set of typical licenses, but also good spatial imagination, knowledge of geometry, and the ability to play billiards... nah, you have to do something between missions, right? I''m not talking about coffee makers - that goes without saying.


    The absurd physics of this absurd planet makes all fired disks keep their angle regardless of ricochets, and it makes it very easy to estimate the trajectory, but even so to calculate it and hit the target accurately is at least problematic, especially when you are aiming at the ECHO image transmitted from the camera. Still, I... well, let''s just say I did it.


    In fact, the corridor was narrow enough that it was almost impossible to miss. It was more a question of where they would hit, and how much of their damage would be lost in ricochets, but these weapons were designed for ricochets, so not much.


    And one disk hitting the neck was enough. For all the survivability of the Homo Recens, the neck is still a vulnerable place; after all, it''s where the arteries that feed the brain pass through.


    That''s why I wear a steel collar on my armor. The bandits, however, neglected such protection.


    Another advantage of the "Wave" was that this "shotgun" fires without rattle and flash, so the bandits did not even realize what came from where. However, they realized that they were targets here and ran back to the stairs. Well... "Don''t run from a sniper, you''ll die tired" is now in the "don''t run from a turret" variation.


    I picked up the weapons that had fallen out of the corpses'' hands - including a grenade, mm-yum... - and returned to my position. Then, after thinking for a second, I moved to the room on the other side. It was a little cleaner after Roland''s turret than after the grenade, and it wouldn''t hurt to put another turret here.


    I stuffed the corpses from corridor in the "grenade" room, so that they wouldn''t be immediately conspicuous.


    The next batch of bandits acted smarter: a big guy with a big shield was in front, two machine gunners were behind him, and a punk with a sniper gun was left near the stairs, wiggling the barrel from side to side. I sighed sadly. Well, as it came, so it went....


    This time the ricochet was simpler, untargeted, and with a grenade. Modern grenades don''t react to blows, you can even hit them with a sledgehammer (though you shouldn''t, take a pity for poor thing), so it didn''t do anything from hitting the wall.


    But to the walls, after activation by timer - quite well.


    Bandits, even more so.


    Most modern material shields can withstand bullets, even large caliber ones, but they are relatively vulnerable to explosions. And more importantly, my grenade split into many small grenades flying in all directions, some of which simply flew over the shield, falling behind the shield-bearer''s back - or even on his shoulders and head.


    The blast wave rolled down the corridor, mostly past me. The turrets hopefully covered the corpses, but the bandits... well, the grenades didn''t kill the machine gunners - which, however, was immediately fixed by the turrets. As I had hoped, they are safe, my cuties...


    There was still a sniper alive - before the volley from the "Wave".


    Second Wave on the second wave of hostiles. All right, let''s go.


    This time I didn''t have time to remove the corpses: a third wave followed. The camera survived, too, and I saw only two people coming down the stairs. Large, but of ordinary human size; both with shields - and with "shields". Both the usual tangible plate of armored material to cover against frontal fire, and comprehensive energy protection.


    Also, and this was far more disturbing, both of them were not in their usual bandit gear, but identical armored suits with white Dahl triangles.


    "Ex-Dahl officers, threat level: 12," the ECHO reported.


    From behind the shield, a grenade flew into the corridor, with a sort of humming sound....


    Reflexes, or perhaps instincts, worked faster than reason. Activate ECHO, start the barricade''s digital construction program. Seal the doorway. The sound of a grenade... homing modifier.


    Explosions erupted outside; dust kicked up, but my barricade... not that it "held," it just recovered.


    Turrets rumbled, but... I won''t even put a tangerine on them in this fight.


    Should I use a grenade? The two remaining ones? With shields and armor, even that might not be enough. I still have my trump cards in the form of turrets in the side rooms, but the enemy already knows where I am and will expect fire from them. They''ll probably use grenades again now; besides, they can cover each other with shields, and sweep the rooms with grenades and shotguns.


    A rustle made me turn around, ruining the tactical plans I''d been making, and I narrowly dodged the sawaxe in the dwarf''s hands. Not quite dodged, actually; my shield was halfway down.


    And then a second dwarf emerged from a narrow vent hole in the wall.


    In games, it''s always MCs climbing through vents. For some reason, almost no one thinks that enemies can do it too.


    The rifle in the second dwarf''s hands rang out, knocking down the rest of my shield, and I parried the sawaxe with my shovel.


    - Sir, your second is violating the gentlemanly rules of dueling! - I said.


    - What? - the dwarf with the shotgun asked perplexedly, even pausing its reloading, and immediately got in the face with his friend, whom I kicked in his direction.


    - How the cultural level has fallen - I noted judgmentally, shooting the axeman with my pistol. His head exploded... hmmm, no brains visible. - No intellectual one either.


    Another dwarf came out of the vent, this time with a knife at his height. The turret installed in the room finally came to life; not sure why it took so long, will need to run diagnostics if I survive. Either way, coming in with a knife to a gunfight isn''t too sensible... A shovel is another matter.


    The barricade in the doorway shuddered under the gunfire outside. I don''t like this situation...


    I pick up the dwarf''s shotgun, and start digitally building another turret. My shield rebooting, but I''m not injured; however, a couple enemies behind the wall remain a problem. I even missed an opportunity to use a grenade.


    A glance at the camera image, a glance at the barricade - covered in cracks, won''t last long - and the digital construction starts up again. Not another barricade, but close.


    A shield of wood, metal, and ceramic appears in my hand, a slightly modified version of the one I used in the skirmish with the Eridian guardian. It would only withstand a couple or three shots, really, but it should be enough for me.


    My energy shield rebooted; another shot from outside blew a hole in the barricade, and I immediately slammed my shield into the barricade, shattering it and smashing it into the shield.


    And at the same time - turning the enemy a little to the side, and opening his side for the turrets.


    The bluish shroud of the shield flickered and disappeared under the twin volleys; the armor didn''t last long either. No, the Dahl fighter tried to retreat and get out of the limited firing zone, but I caught him in the shoulder with the edge of my shovel. A second and he was down with a bleeding hole in his side; the ECHO showed that his health bar was empty.


    The second man of Dahl, standing nearby, obviously realized it too, because he threw another grenade, aiming over my head.


    He shouldn''t have done that.


    Before the grenade could detonate - I couldn''t hear the engines humming, so it wasn''t homing - it met the shovel, sending it flying back.


    An explosion, and I rushed forward. The grenade returned to its owner didn''t kill him, but it knocked his shield down and stunned him, and I couldn''t let the opportunity pass. The enemy still had time to fire his shotgun, but my shield held; sopromat rules. There was no time or need to change weapons; I just slammed my weight into the shield, knocking the enemy into the wall, and began to strike with my shovel. To the arm, to the head... Kick to the legs, again with the blade....


    In the battle between the Dahl armor and the Vladoff shovel, the shovel won.


    From somewhere above came the rumble of gunfire and explosions. Roland wasn''t wasting any time either, apparently. I grinned, and after making sure the second enemy was dead, I unhooked the shield from his arm. It''ll come in handy.


    I didn''t have time to look around for other goodies - more enemies might show up at any moment, and I couldn''t even hear them over the noise - so I just retreated back to my position. We''ll collect the trophies later.


    - Do you need support? - just in case, I asked on the line dedicated to Roland. - And by the way, Angel, do you have anything to report?


    - Not necessary, I''m almost done - my partner said.


    - He was almost done - Angel confirmed.


    That wasn''t an exaggeration. I spent some more time and effort on the new guests from the ventilation - this time, unexpectedly, a few skags, and unexpectedly, varkids - and then...


    - The second floor has been cleared - Roland reported.


    Actually, the operation didn''t end there. First we combed the building for hiding people - we found a couple of bandits and some civilians, hostages and servants - and then we waited for the absent bandits to return to the base, who also had to be eliminated.


    All told... A dozen dead in the bedrooms (plus the two next to them), thirteen at my place, twelve at Roland''s on the second floor, a dozen more returnees....


    - I expected it to be harder - Roland voiced my thoughts. I shrugged.


    - Well, four hands can do a lot of work.


    Yes, it was a trap - there were two of us.


    All kidding aside, even though it was relatively easy, it was only because of Roland and Angel''s information. I extended my hand to the ex-Atlas man.


    - We did a good job. I hope we can continue working together in the future.


    He nodded and shook my hand.

 The Ballad of Components, or The Strong Female Grip.

    We got a lot of trophies. The weapons and ammunition of the bandits - some of them, though they used digital storage, had specialized modules instead of ECHOs, or no protection at all, or minimal protection that could be opened - were only a small part of the booty. Roland took Michael Schlepp, the gang''s storekeeper, alive, and he opened up our treasury and armory.


    Sometimes the risk pays off. That''s not to say this gang was particularly rich or well-armed, but... To start with Roland''s trophy, which he honestly took from the ringleader''s body. A revolver from Tedior, one of the "unique series" they used for their advertising campaign a few years ago. Not only is it basically good in every way, but it comes with a bonus of free ammo every day, a special service from the manufacturer.


    I am envious.


    However, Roland earned this weapon honestly, and we had discussed the division of trophies in advance. And most importantly, I didn''t miss out either. Though the armory had no weapons comparable to this revolver, there was a worthy analog from Jacobs, with all its advantages and disadvantages. No free ammo, and worse overall, but still. There was also a decent assault rifle from Vladoff, a grenade modifier... Unfortunately, there was no decent shield.


    However, all this was secondary, and even money was not the main thing, although there was a lot of it in the "treasury".


    I''ll start with the dubious.


    There were several Eridian artifacts in the ringleader''s collection. "Slight increase in survivability", "slight increase in resistance to fire", "moderate increase in dexterity"... I risked trying the last one, since its effect should be the most noticeable... well, what can I say - it was easier to reload weapons. And the recoil is easier. Not much, but noticeable. Perhaps even worth using... Resistance to fire can also be useful, in certain situations.


    The second point... perhaps it would be worth saying "regrettable". The collection included not only Eridian relics, including the Eridian cannon, by the way. There were also trophies taken from corporate agents. A Hyperion night vision device, a shoulder support system for the Dahl themselves, an Atlas electronic cartridge belt... Vladoff''s engineering visor.


    Quite old, but still better than mine - higher quality, and more functions. Considering that no special licenses are required to use it, I immediately replaced mine with it. Thank you, unknown comrade, for your contribution to my well-being...


    The third item is definitely useful. Several license keys, a couple of used ones, for multiple users, and a few disposable ones. Maybe the bandit planned to sell them, I don''t know. A few relatively useless ones, but one of them was for synthesizing armor alloy; weak, between "civilian" and "for junior officers", but even so far better than the plain steel I''ve had to use. And it''s a good thing if the steel is...


    Anyway, even though it required materials to synthesize - solvable - it was stronger and lighter than what I was using now, even in its basic form. And you could use layered composite, and use the right angles of plating... All in all, my survivability would have to go up. The car could be strengthened, too, again.


    The next, fourth, item... Weird. Well, at least by the standards of normal planets. Nothing surprising on Pandora, I suppose.


    An invitation, with an electronic access key, to a certain "Club of the Badasses". I would have just ignored it, were it not for two factors.


    First, my ECHO flagged it as an important object, even before I noticed it myself. And second, the thing came with the ringleader''s journal, which... shall we say, described its usefulness.


    According to his entries, some lunatics, the founders of this club, well... gave out rewards for doing crazy things. "Badass," it said. Show proof on the site, get points for it, points could be exchanged for rewards. There was a list of tasks, plus you could submit something of your own to the founders. The late leader, according to his records, even got some licenses from this "club". Hmm. I''d say it''s like a way to get extra cash on top of the levels. Hey, Almighty Bastard, you got anything to say?


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.    It don''t. The fact that the ECHO pointed to the key spoke for itself, though.


    And then there was the storekeeper. Or rather, that he actually had the information I needed.


    - In ca-caves, under the Dahl''s av-avannpost on the Dead Mountain stashed fab-fabricator - shifting his gaze from Roland to me and back, confessed a small man with a large bald spot, desperately afraid of us. - Sunny Ku-kuk took the processor module, John Three Crosses took the activator key. Then they f-fought to the death, and fought for a long time, until the Three Crosses finished Sunny off. On this occasion he had a big drunken party, after which his drunken self was eaten by skags. But Sunny had a son, Moonny, who got the processor. He made an amulet out of it and wore it around his neck until he gave it to his lover, Catherine Puffass. In the end, when she separated from Moonny, she sold the amulet to a shaman from the island of Wam-Bam, from whom, in turn, the amulet was stolen. After that, the amulet was lost for a while, until it resurfaced in Ma-Marcus Kincaid''s shop, where a tramp traded it for a revolver.


    - Listen, how do you know all this? - I asked puzzled.


    - Rumor mills is grinding - The storekeeper shrugged his shoulders. - As for the key, the skag that ate it was soon shot by Mordecai the hunter, and then the next day he exchange the key in Moxie''s bar for drink.


    ...


    If it wasn''t for the helmet, I''d be rubbing my temples. Moxie, you glorious bastard lady... I''m pretty sure she knew all that. Well, maybe not all of it, but the location of the key components.


    I feel like a goddamn protagonist.


    And what did Moxie say in response to my "report"? "Oh, that''s how it is."


    At least she didn''t break call out at that, though the image did disappear briefly. When it returned, the woman was holding a cocktail glass.


    - Sorry, darling, work is work, - she remarked, pushing the cocktail somewhere on the counter. - So you need a key and a processor.


    - That would be nice, - I replied sarcastically.


    - Hmm. How about a deal? I''ll get you the "amulet" from Marcus if you help me improve my base, which you and Roland so kindly freed from bandits.


    Bitch. But for some reason I''m not even angry.


    - Agreed - I sighed. Considering that she started with the item that was listed as Marcus''s, and not hers, I can assume that we''ll have to work separately for the key.


    Well, what can I say - Moxie does not disappoint.


    Although this time she had me much less pleasantly.


    Moxie wanted to turn the fort into a new arena that would be not just a fortified area, but a special... complex, with a set of devices that would "add fire," including literal ones. Serious work, and requiring, for a change, not only the use of ready-made technical solutions through licenses, but also real work in various directions - from design to debugging.


    It''s worth giving the lady credit: she didn''t try to make the most of the situation. The captured building, objectively, was not needed by me or Roland, and she paid for the work not only with CPU, but also with cash. Moxie has an extremely strong grip - in every sense of the word, yes... - but she''s also great at manipulating others without making enemies. Yes, I got screwed (again), but it remained mutually beneficial.


    Starting to admire this woman, frankly.

 Last one.

    The processor unit is actually not just a processor (with control AI included), but a set of intentionally flashed schematics of what the fabricator can produce.


    It was in the part where they were stored that the hole for the thread was drilled.


    This explained why Marcus didn''t try to get the fabricator for himself: it was mostly the weapon''s digital schematics that was damaged, or rather destroyed. The unit allowed testing through external devices, and my ECHO diagnostics showed losses.


    However, the unit was still quite working, and there were enough working schematics for my needs. Including cartridge blocks of all kinds. There were armor plates and shields, but they were of such low quality that I wouldn''t even be able to sell them cheaply, and I wouldn''t use them. Especially with a trophy license for armor alloy.


    And anyway, it''s still the skin of an unkilled bear. In order to turn into the larva of a tycoon-industrialist, I still need to collect the materials for evolution - that is, the access key, and the fabricator itself. And then I need to extract the raw materials for processing.


    ...It all sounds like I''m going to be settling down to live on Pandora. What a... strangely unperceived as absurd thought.


    And, speaking of absurd thoughts... Roland and I made a nice profit on our last crazy venture. So now and then the thought began to arise - if this venture was so profitable, then maybe it wasn''t a crazy at all?


    I''m fighting it. The remnants of common sense are more valuable the less of them there are, just like with any other resource.


    After Roland left on his own, having taken his honestly earned share, I took up a new job in my specialty, given to me by Moxie - at first alone, then other workers arrived, bandits in appearance, but quite worthy builders. And - this brought unexpected bonuses. The building had to be remodeled to fit Moxie''s needs (a couple times I thought it would be easier to build from scratch), and in the process I came across a secret vault. Some money and ammo - including a stockpile of grenades, regular and rocket-propelled! - and a strange Eridian relic. Nah, they''re all weird, but this one''s weirder than usual. It looks remotely like a shard of a very thick-walled vase, and the ECHO identified it as an "Eridian relic. Fragment ????" And it marked it specifically. It''s a quest item, probably even a story item... I''ll give it to Tannis later and let her handle it.


    But first, I''ll attach the tracker. Just in case.


    I also had to clear another area for the archaeologist, where I encountered an incident strange even for Pandora. As usual, I was clearing the usual wildlife, the standard set of skags, rakks, and skithyds, as suddenly a bullet flew in from somewhere. Well, or rather, the ECHO showed from which side bullet hit the shield, of which there is still fifteen percent, no more. Sniper, definitely... I immediately took cover behind the prepared wall - remember, children, caution first! - and was only a fraction of a second ahead of the next bullet. The ECHO AI again indicated the direction of the shot, and I let my shield recover and tried to see the enemy. Barely had time to move my head away, avoiding another bullet...


    Well, I won''t drag out this story - it was tense, but rather tedious - and I''ll get right to its denouement. The sniper was a skag.


    ...Yeah.


    I find that hard to believe, but it''s a fact. It looks like the skag tried to swallow the sniper, but it couldn''t fit all the way in, so the barrel was sticking out of its mouth. And this thing was somehow managing to fire the gun in a way that was beyond common sense.


    P-pandora, my ass. That''s the kind of environment you have to work in.


    - What do you want me to do? - I asked incredulously.


    In exchange for the key, this Pandorian showbiz (and entertainment industry in general) owner wanted nothing more than to have me fight in her arena. As she stated, "a good fighter will contribute to the spectacle and promotion..."


    - Isn''t that a bit of a complicated scheme if you want to get rid of me? Although, this way you won''t have to pay a hitman, and you''ll have a show... Anyway - nope.


    I''ve given it some thought.


    - And by the way, it''s not gonna work for you. I''ll either set up a bunch of turrets in advance, or I''ll cheat in some other way, but either way, it won''t be a show. After all, my motto is "caution and discretion."


    Moxie raised an eyebrow and looked at the ''Money is Money'' inscription on my armor.


    - It''s a new motto, - I explained. - Life makes you grow on yourself and set new goals. I''ll write it down later. In any case, this option does not suit neither you nor me.


    - All right - the woman did not insist. - In that case, another option. I need someone to deliver a package to a friend of mine, and take something from him.


    I looked at her suspiciously.


    - Was this option prepared in advance to look like an good alternative to the first one? - I asked.


    - Why not? You can take any of them - this fox said. I''ve given it some thought.


    - How much more problematic would he be than the first option?


    - It''s less dangerous, - she said instead of answering, confirming my suspicions. - It''s just that... Crazy Earl is a bit... difficult to communicate with.


    I thought about it some more.


    - Is he deaf and mute and living in a bunker that has to be reached through skag packs and minefields?


    Moxie looked at me with interest.


    - Have you thought about working as a fortune teller? You bet there''d be customers.


    I sighed.


    - How good was my guess?


    - Fifty percent, - the lady said. - Usually fortune-tellers don''t get more than twenty, so think about this career.


    I finally agreed. In fact, it was obvious from the start that I would. Moxie managed to convince me that she''d given me this "quest" instead of doing it herself not only because of its complexity (there was no question of "not so much"), but also for a number of reasons ranging from personal animosity to the fact that I was on hand in time... at least, not under her heel.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The fact that the object of my assignment was nicknamed "crazy" didn''t bother me; the same Moxie is also called "Mad Moxie." Anyway, look for someone normal on this crazy planet. I can''t even vouch for me. Besides, he''s not deaf and dumb, and he''s out of land mines. I guess.


    Anyway, I just needed to get to the bunker through the skag-filled junkyard. It was nothing.


    The main thing was to make sure those skags didn''t turn out to be - again - armed.


    Have you danced with the devil... uh, not quite the case. For all the evilness of the skags, there''s no way they''re the devil, even the ones that belch fireballs (elemental effects, yes).


    However, the pale light of Elpis, Pandora''s moon, gave the scene a slightly mystical look. Piles of wreckage of some sort of machinery, including even whole vehicles, overgrown with Pandorian vegetation and mosses in places, fluorescent flowers poking through the metal. The growling, the whining, the sounds of gunfire and the squeal of circulars ricocheting off metal... Fantastically exciting.


    At least from the outside. On a computer screen, it must have been interesting and maybe even beautiful.


    For me, it was intense and dangerous work.


    Yes, it''s probably worth noting that as a result of Moxie''s last assignment - and closing part of the quest chain - I gained another level, reaching 13 (hopefully a number of no consequence), which brought me another portion of the agony of choice. Two portions, actually, as I discovered to my considerable annoyance that I still hadn''t used a point from the last promotion.


    However, this time the decision was made quickly, albeit with a bit of doubt. One point each in Technical Competency, closing it out, and in Basic Military Training. Turrets are the basis of my combat power, plus this skill helps a lot with other things, and military training on Pandora is like school education on normal planets: you can''t get anywhere without it.


    And these two upgrades clearly demonstrated their value during the walk to the abode of a psycho living in a junkyard among skags. Especially when combined with the new armor materials.


    Despite the improved eyesight and the fact that Elpis provided ample reflected light, visibility in the junkyard was poor. The mountains of junk weren''t light-conducive, you know... Skags could come out of just about anything, so I grudgingly accepted the waste of ammo as fact and shot first for sound, having quickly learned to distinguish wind sounds from extraneous sounds. And now - something squeaked, clattered, and I immediately fired a volley from the shotgun - a regular one - in that direction.


    - Meow - quite unconvincingly, and even mechanically, came from the direction where I heard the sound. Well, at least it wasn''t a skag....


    - There are no cats on Pandora - I reported.


    - ...Woof? - After a short pause, the unknown person suggested.


    - Dogs, too - I hummed, lowering the shotgun. - A free recommendation: next time, you should study the fauna of the planet you''re traveling to.


    - Thanks for the advice, meat bag, - said the voice. I immediately raised the shotgun again, and asked suspiciously:


    - Claptrap?


    - I have nothing to do with this disgrace of a robotkind! - said the voice indignantly. - Don''t insult me by comparing me to these inferior, non-functional, aesthetic-less parodies of a real death machine!


    - I won''t believe it until I see it, - I said firmly. As far as I could hear, the voice came from the same height as Claptrap''s. - Get out, or I''ll spare no grenade.


    A bluff, but it worked.


    - All right, all right, but don''t shoot - the voice hastily reported, and from behind a pile of junk rolled out... rolled out....


    This unit was really unlike the woe-robot, the owner of which I have the misfortune to be, but its appearance - primarily the design and coloring, white-blue-orange, stirred in me unpleasant memories.


    - Maliwan? - I asked suspiciously, and it sounded threatening even without my intention.


    - That''s right, let me introduce myself: T0ST-R2D2 of the Maliwan clan, former Minister of Economy of the Free Confederation, - he tried to bow, but it didn''t work well on wheels.


    ...§°. Indeed. Toaster.


    - Be thankful you wasn''t a coffee maker, - I muttered, loosening my grip on the weapon slightly. - I have a short conversation with Maliwan coffee makers. What are you doing here?


    - Well... It''s pretty intimate, - the robot folded its arms, similar to Claptrap''s. I pointed my gun at him suggestively. - But, as a demonstration of my friendly intentions... You see, I''m a refugee. After the unfortunate end of the Free Confederacy, I was probably the last survivor. A lucky chance allowed me to arrive on this remote planet, leaving my past behind, but fate has condemned me to loneliness...


    - Anyway - I interrupted him.


    - Anyway, I''m trying to reproduce, - the robot said with a touch of irritation. Oh. Well, there are materials here, I suppose. However...


    - Uncontrolled self-reproduction by robots is actually forbidden, - I remarked.


    - We can make a deal - the robot noted.


    - Like what? - I asked.


    - For example... Attack, my brothers! - shouted the toaster and rushed for cover, and then shots rang out from all sides.


    ...I knew I couldn''t trust Maliwan''s tech.


    - Uh, my brothers? - The robot repeated uncertainly from behind the pile of junk he was hiding behind. - Brothers! Sisters?


    I clapped my hand on my chest, the inscription on which now read "Caution and discretion above all else - but money is money".


    - I''ve got a turret set up at every convenient point, - I announced, walking over to the toaster. - Any last words?


    - All I wanted was to create an army of killer robots and take over the world. Is that too much to ask? - the robot asked sorrowfully.


    - This planet is already too crazy, - I said, and pulled the trigger.

 A princess and a unicorn.

    About half a dozen of the robots he had build from the trash was not enough to raise the level; it is reasonable, they were weak. Well, i still got some crumbs of "exp" for them, I hope, and what''s more important - the ex-minister had a digital storage with minimal protection, in which there was a fraction of uranium, platinum and gems, which remained valuable on Pandora. Plus there were several licenses to manufacture robot components; hacked from Maliwan, it seemed. In the Maliwan-controlled territories, the death penalty for such things, and even the other corporations disapprove of piracy: eve if pirates start with their competitors, they then take their licenses, and then how can corps make money then? On Pandora, however, it was easier: here is realm of anarchy, and although there is a presence of corporations, but corps hold no dominance.


    Anyway, pirated licenses should be used with caution, but they''ll still come in handy.


    The robots used as weapon built-in equipment like microwave radar and laser rangefinder, plus a couple of low-quality guns with traces of skag droppings. But as it is, a catch where you wouldn''t expect it. Plus a sense of deep moral satisfaction from avoiding an extra dose of insanity.


    Did I say anything about an extra dose of insanity? Well, in his ocean, which is Pandora, it would have been an insignificant drop.


    The coordinates Moxie had given me revealed a bunker, with a massive, respectable metal door, like a prison door, with a narrow observation slit, now closed from the inside. I hit it with my fist, shook my head respectfully, then picked up a piece of metal and began pounding on door.


    The result was the appearance of a pack of skags from nowhere¡­ I was sure I''d cleared the area. After I had killed this refugees, i meen hiders-runners, I took up my pounder again... well shucking fit! I even mixed up the letters out of indignation, I''m fed up! Do they have rubber holes? How do they all fit in there?


    This was the last batch, and finally the bolt on the peephole disappeared, revealing a skinny, almost pointed face with an obvious bit of madness.


    - Earl? - I inquired.


    - Crazy Earl - he corrected, moving his jaw in displeasure. - Get the fuck out.


    The bolt closed. I sighed heavily and pounded on the door again.


    To my slight surprise, the "peephole" opened again.


    - What do you want? - the owner inquired unfriendly. Um... First you should have asked this, and only then sent out.


    - I''m from Moxie, to deliver a package - to pick up a package - I explained.


    - Ha! You can try to say it is siren riding a unicorn! - he said sarcastically, and closed the door again. I rubbed the bridge of my nose (I tried to, considering the helmet), and again resorted to the only available method of interaction: I pounded on the door again.


    The slit opened.


    - I can''t see the unicorn - the psycho reported, and it closed again. I felt a certain heaviness, and pulled off my helmet. I wiped my face with a velvet handkerchief with the initials U.U. (I wonder where I got it...), and put the helmet back on.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.    Okay. As much as I''d like to blow the hell out of that door and take the bunker master by the scruff of the neck, I don''t have that much explosives, and he''s probably got a corridor behind the door that''s well shot by a dozen turrets. So.


    - Echo, get me Lilith.


    - Hello, most beautiful siren I''ve ever known.


    - You start with... - Lilith thought for a moment, and then hesitantly finished - ...the truth?


    - Telling the truth is easy and pleasant - I remarked. - In any case, would you like to drink a flavored coffee, admiring the mystical light of the moon, illuminating soaring in the cloudless, bottomless skies, flocks of rakks and a car dump with skag bloodstains?


    Siren stared at me for a few seconds this time.


    - You know, that''s the most romantic thing anyone''s ever said to me in my entire life. - She sighed heavily. - And the sad thing is, I meant it. Yeah yeah, that says a lot about my life....


    The girl shook her head.


    - Are there any more tangerines?


    - I knew you only wanted my body - Lilith remarked.


    - Well, no? - I objected. - Abilities too, and a stuffed unicorn.


    - You men are all the same, - she grumbled. She smiled, though, her eyes sparkling. - All you care about in a girl is a beautiful tattoo. And a dowry.


    - A girl is not only beauty, - I remarked, setting the replica of the effigy in its proper place. - But also the contribution she can make to the common cause. But seriously, I''m surprised you agreed to come. Flattered, but isn''t that a little careless? Especially to drink something out of someone else''s hands. As far as I know, there''s a good reward for sirens.


    - Well, you have a good reputation, - Lilith remarked, sipping coffee from a small cup. Moxie''s managed to get milk somewhere; I should be able to find a channel myself, but so far I''ve had to pay a hefty markup. - Besides, there are very few poisons and tranquilizers that work on me, and I have an analyzer for them.


    She tapped a finger on her ECHO; I nodded. The program for analyzing poisons in food is quite functional and useful even in the free version, and if I were Siren, I''d be generous with the full version, it''s worth it. Still, reputation pays off...


    I took a critical look at the installation. It''s fine. At the very least, I''ll have some good pictures to remember and sell later.


    Sir Hammerlock, whom I also had the pleasure of meeting (and a small job installing a set of hidden cameras; no, he''s not a voyeur, but a hunter and xenozoologist, though one doesn''t interfere with the other), was kind enough to lend me a copy of the stuffed unicorn. Why would I want it? Please don''t ask - such questions destroy the harmony of madness with irrelevant common sense.


    - Please, - I said, waving my hand invitingly. Lilith nodded, tipped the cup into her mouth, and climbed onto her steed with a tangerine in her hand.


    I went to the door and pounded on it; a crack opened.


    Lilith let out an energy blast from her free hand.


    - Siren on a unicorn - I said. - Is that okay?

 Kingdom of Rustboro.

    For the photos of Lilith on a unicorn and Earl - Crazy Earl - with bulging eyes I got points on my account in Club of Badasses. This guy was listed as an object of interest for them, as were the sirens, by the way.


    The main thing, however, is that I was able to complete Moxie''s assignment, and accordingly came one step closer to owning my own fabricator. Of course, this is not quite on the topic of the "main quest", but first secure the rear, and then get into adventures, right? Well, if you forget that for the fabricator you initially have to get into adventures.


    And, by the way... Now all that remains is to get the fabricator itself.


    So, Dead Mountain. No minerals. No vegetation. No water sources. Inhabited by robots. It would be great if i could just add sand to the grease, but alas, this option for completing the quest was not provided in this game...


    By the way, I''m completely serious. Dead Mountain is one of the areas of Dahl''s mining activity, where an experiment in automated mineral extraction was conducted. I don''t know the details, but apparently there was mixed success here - there were results, but they did not spread the practice, and after Dahl fled, the robots were abandoned at the depleted mine, like many other things. What they are doing there now without supervision - only the Omnissiah knows, but judging by the fact that no problems have been noticed in the area of the mountain in all the past years, it is unlikely that they are also gathering an army of conquest.


    But not impossible. Nothing is impossible on Pandora.


    After some deliberation, I took Claptrap with me, but left him near the buggy, chained up, so as not to look for him later. He, however, demanded a box and collar, but I offered to give him both when he found his neck, and left him to ponder the task.


    Scouting first. I know the robots are guarding their territory, but I also know that the fabricator is somehow hidden in the workings, so it should be possible to get it out without starting a war. Experience is good, of course, but if I can do without a fight, I''ll try that first.


    I''m not a specialist in stealthy infiltration, and I don''t have any equipment that would allow me to scan the mountain for alternative passages. So of all the options I had to sadly choose the simplest and most straightforward: go through the "main entrance". Maybe it''s not guarded at all, and the robots turned themselves off. No, of course not, but what if?


    ...Although if I come up and see that they are not working - according to the laws of the game, all will turn on and suddenly attack at the most inopportune moment.


    In any case, I tried to move as stealthily as possible. The early detection systems on Pandora sucked, so at least I had a good chance of seeing the enemies before they attacked me.


    I was greeted by a wall of concrete and a closed steel gate, in front of which stood a robot truck (left) and a robot loader (right). The forklift was armed with a large shield and an even larger... mace? Actually, it was definitely a drill, with the drill head still rotating even now, but in the robot''s hand... arms it definitely looked like a mace.


    Or a spear.


    There was a sign above the gate that read "Kingdom of Rustboro", with another one just below it that read "Checkpoint/Customs". Um...


    There was nowhere to hide on the slope, so if those robots can see, they''ve already spotted me. Well... If "checkpoint", there''s an option to pass, I suppose...?


    - Meatbag, - the cart said in a suddenly high-pitched voice. - Entrance to the kingdom is for robots only!


    - Or by invitation - said the forklift in a bass voice.


    - I offer the services of an engineer - I said, and poked my finger in the inscription on the armor. - Not expensive.


    - Entry by invitation only - repeated the loader. Its drill buzzed louder and spun faster, and from a cart - a wagon - rose a rotary machine gun.


    - All right, - I said, and stepped back. I''ll try something else. I brought Claptrap with me for a reason.


    If I can''t use it, I''ll at least park it here indefinitely. I won''t have to pay Moxie.


    - So, boss, you want me to emigrate and send you an invitation? - Claptrap asked.


    - Well, in a way - I cautiously agreed.


    - Hmm... - the robot said thoughtfully. He crossed his arms over his chest and paced back and forth. - There will be expenses for legalization, adaptation, amortization, correspondence...


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.    I cracked him with a shovel.


    - Ouch! All right, well, some of the costs can be eliminated.


    We eventually agreed that he''d get five bucks up front, and if the invitation thing worked out, another five after that, and then a satisfied Claptrap rolled on. I''m not sure how that was made clear, but he was clearly pleased.


    - This is your visa, - the forklift hummed, handing me a... uh, nut? A rusty one at that. - Keep it in sight and don''t lose it.


    - Or lose it, - the trolley car put it in. - I''ve been wanting to shoot for a while.


    I looked at the machine gun shaking with impatience and turned to the loader.


    - Thanks for the warning. I''ll keep it in mind.


    Outside the gates... Well, I expected to see a small corporate mining settlement converted into a robot "kingdom". But I had no idea it would look like this.


    "Dr. Ed''s Medical Center "Helping Hand". Limb transplants, wheel replacement. Parts purchase" - read the neon sign above one of the buildings. Above another - "Boxy''s Bar. Oil, antifreeze, industrial alcohol, music and leisure". And, to top it off - "Brothel "Energy Discharge". All types of in-out ports".


    Oh, and "Royal Palace (vacant)."


    For a few seconds I was looking at these crazy, I mean perfectly normal for Pandora signs, when I was distracted by a rather loud voice.


    - Repent, sinners! Do not disturb the depths, or sealed evil will punish you!


    ...I''m not even surprised.


    I was surprised. The source of the voice was a large metal vacuum cleaner standing near the center of the kingdom space, with a cracked, chipped, and in some places melted plastic liner; one of its four wheels was turned sideways, and a metal bowl next to it held a few screws and nuts. What was surprising, obviously, was not that it had an AI and a speaker (though I don''t understand at all why the local robots don''t communicate by radio), but its maker: suddenly, Vladoff. What''s he even doing in a Dahl mining base...?


    - Hi - I turned to him. Not that belonging to the corporation caused any sense of kinship or anything like that, but maybe he''ll tell me something...? You still have to look for a blabbermouth, after all, and it''s not certain that he''ll be any good.


    - Huh. Vladoff? - the vacuum cleaner asked, puzzled. I nodded. - Are our people in the city?


    - Um, no. I''m alone on Pandora.


    - There''s no room for hope in the world. Life is pain - the robot stated.


    - And how did you end up here? - I asked. - This is the Dahl location.


    - The current of the river of existence, filled with suffering, carries sinners to the depths of hell - the robot said. - Delivered to the wrong address.


    I remembered the Vladoff''s delivery service and nodded understandingly.


    - I sympathize. What about the wheel? Went on a road of adventure, and then a bullet hit your knee?


    - The flames of hell scorched the sinful flesh, leaving their mark, - he answered. - A fiery skag, my ass.


    - Why are you talking like that? - I asked. The situation was beginning to amuse me.


    - The voice of the Highest, revealing the truth of this world, was imprinted in my soul. Three years in the warehouse, the only Doomsday Church on the radio.


    - And then Pandora - I chuckled. - I really sympathize. You want me to take a look at the wheel? Maybe there''s something we can do.


    - There''s no room for hope in the world, - he said again. - And there''s only free cheese when there''s a advertisement.


    Hmm. That''s not a bad idea.


    - Yeah, I said. - If it works, you''ll serve as an advertisement, and it''ll be good for you and me. So what''s up?


    - To hell with you, - he said. - And all of us. Go ahead, add to the hopelessness of life.


    Actually, there was nothing hopeless about it. No, if it had been made by Atlas or the Maliwan, the chassis would have used special license modules that could not be replaced with anything, but it was a Vladoff. Even if I didn''t have a license to repair our equipment - an axle, a bearing, a bushing, a couple of nuts... It was nothing.


    - Minimal functionality, - I warned. - turns in all directions, brake, and all that - separately, but you can move already....


    Something rumbled nearby - not an explosion, just metal against metal - and I reflexively looked at the source of the sound.


    - Pervert! Get out of this fine establishment!


    - Damn touch-me-not - Claptrap grumbled, standing up on the wheel. He glanced at the door of the "brothel" from where he was thrown out, turned around, and noticed me.


    - Oh, boss! - he said cheerfully. - That''ll be five bucks.


    - ...I''m feel for you, - said the vacuum cleaner.

 Stampede.

    I didn''t even bother to find out what Claptrap had there in the "brothel" - my psyche, even though damaged by Pandora, is more important for me. I just took out five Pandoran dollars (funny, by the way - here cash and non-cash are essentially the same thing), and...


    There was a rumbling sound in the mountain beneath my feet, and the ground shook slightly. I staggered, and from the surprise dropped a banknote, which was immediately picked up by the wind.


    - My money! - Claptrap exclaimed, and rushed after me.


    At that moment, the sound of gunshots came from the mine''s entrance - the classic "rock, hole, four boards" - visible in the distance. I froze, frowning, not sure what to do or which way to run... although, if you don''t know what to do, make a turret, as our sergeant Mikhailo Nguyenovich Akmar used to say. You don''t know him.


    A robot resembling a three-wheeled Claptrap... ah, no, it''s a small wagon without one wheel.


    - Run, you fools! - he shouted, and then a blob of... something came out of the mine and hit him in the back. Something greenish and bubbly. And caustic.


    The robot screamed, lunged forward, tripped over a rock, and toppled over. And then I was in the middle of a battlefield.


    All sorts of robots rolled in and out of the buildings. Mostly carts and forklifts of various sizes and models, but there was some kind of flying sphere, something that looked a lot like a vending machine on caterpillars, a creepy doll with a moronic smile on its plastic face, and... uh, a Maliwan coffee maker. In the family underwear.


    They were all armed, and immediately opened fire on the wave of enemies rushing out of the mine.


    Skags, of various colors and sizes, rushed across the ground in a wave. Over their backs - some on horseback - came a second stream of rakks, and there seemed to be some wings and varkids among them.


    ...Fu**.


    I rushed away, looking for a place to use as cover, or at least a convenient place to defend myself.


    - There''s no way into the kingdom of heaven through the kingdom of earth, - said a familiar voice nearby. A vacuum cleaner, taking advantage of the fresh renovation, rolled beside me. - The royal palace is a good place to take up defenses.


    I nodded. As far as I could see, it''s a small bunker with one entrance; it could be a trap, but for keeping defenses against beasts, it''s pretty good. Especially if there''s a few seconds to set up a turret - the previous one had already been taken down, judging by the sounds behind me... I turned around for a second to make sure.


    - Does this happen often? - I asked, starting up the turret in front of the entrance.


    - Every calamity has its time; not once has the sinful earth experienced the wrath of heaven, and not once will this happen again until the cup of wrath is full, - the robot said. It doesn''t even need a translation...


    Grenades, especially rocket-propelled grenades, would have been good for the mass of Pandorian creatures that came from the depths of the mountain. Alas, no one here seemed to have them, but at least the robots had hand grenades. Unfortunately, they were mostly simple explosive grenades, and not particularly powerful. I wish there was one singularity here... But alas.


    All this stampede hasn''t paid much attention to us so far, focusing on the iron defenders of the city, but some of the missiles have been making runs; the turret shot down those kamikazes, but I was getting nervous. Another turret...


    - Armed? - I asked the vacuum cleaner.


    - If they slap you on the right cheek, turn the left. I''m a peaceful Vladoff vacuum cleaner, how can I be armed? I''ve already spent my social ration of ammunition for a month, - he said glumly. The thought of sharing ammunition flashed into my mind, but first I need to find out what kind of ammunition, and...


    - Oh, boss! It''s occupied, actually.


    For a second my brain weighed "taking shelter in the bunker with Claptrap" and "engaging in a battle with the stampede in the open". As an experienced adult, though, I didn''t have to ponder for long.


    Boom!


    - Ow! All right, welcome.


    - Those who can''t shoot, stay out of harm''s way, - I announced, and began digitally constructing a barrier. I can''t move in process, but no one could shoot...


    Despite the temptation of shooting Wave at the mass of beasts, I didn''t want to aggro too many of them, so I limited myself to a regular Jacobs shotgun. And fired at the rakks, through the hole in the emerging wall in front of me. Then at the varkid cocoon... At the skag, I mean skags...


    More and more of the beasts veered away from the general flow in my direction. And what sucks is that the robots were having a hard time, too. Perhaps I should not have taken shelter, but rather dragged myself out of the "kingdom"...


    - Yoo-hoo-hoo! - and then a machine gun rumbled over the ground. Plus the sound of blows and the humming of drill-mace-spear; the "customs officers," aka "gatekeepers," left their post to join the fight. - How long I had waited for this!


    The arrival of the reinforcements tilted the situation, which was becoming grim for the robots, in the opposite direction. The wagon''s machine gun, though not as powerful as the guns on the perimeter turrets, was still a serious weapon with plenty of ammunition, and the loader with its shield effectively covered his partner. My turrets, it should be noted, were also working quite well.


    - Oh, we''re winning! - said Claptrap, who looked through the gap.


    - Don''t get under my arm, and don''t be too quick with your statements, - I said as I took aim (my shotgun had been replaced by a machine gun) at the targets heading our way. Minus skag... Minus rakk.


    - Come on, what could happen? - said the robot with vigor.


    In the next second, several things happened. The loader''s leg, which had been hit by a corrosive burp charge, broke and it fell to the ground; an alpha skag jumped onto the carriage and clutched at the machine gun, which consequently stalled.


    - Oh, you fool... - I said in sync with the vacuum cleaner, making a savory and sonorous facepalm. Judging by the sound, the robot even repeated my gesture somehow.


    - Look at it another way: well, it can''t get any worse! - said Claptrap cheerfully.


    Immediately a roar was heard, and a new figure flew out of the shaft, where the flow had already stopped. It was three feet tall, with a pair of wings, it was shrouded in fire, which made it hard to see its features, but clearly not disturbing the creature; another "elementally-charged" creature. Standing up on its two hind legs, it stabbed itself in the chest with its four remaining, and then exhaled a multi-meter-long jet of fire.


    "BalRog," - the ECHO reported. - "It could always be worse."


    If there was one good thing about the situation, it was two things: first, the robots had managed to reduce the number of critters by a lot, and second, both of my turrets were still holding.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.    Oh, not anymore.


    Man, I didn''t even say that out loud! But on second thought, one of my turrets stuttered.


    Shit. But, it''s not over yet... I''ve started the creation of a new turret. There are still possibilities.


    The building, small as it was, shook. Cracks ran down the wall, and then another blow, and the wall, far from matching the strength of the bunker, shattered, punctured by some kind of metal... oh, it was the remains of a robot. "BalRog" picked up a new shell, and I reacted immediately: to stay in the empty box of the "royal palace" essentially no longer made sense when the walls ceased to serve as shelter. I wouldn''t have time to build a patch, but I had a second to get out.


    A short burst from the machine gun at the BalRog, hopefully causing it to hesitate, and changing weapons to Wave I jumped outside through the hole the throwing robot had made. Discharge the ammo block at the nearest skags, reload... behind me I heard the rumble of a new throw.


    From somewhere in the shelters, the surviving robots were still firing sporadic shots; a robot in underpants was running in a panic, dodging skags'' shots and spit, and then it was grabbed by a giant rakk and carried into the sky. My surviving turrets were also contributing, but... hmm. Oddly enough, the situation didn''t look so hopeless.


    Another turret stalled, firing a few bullets into the alpha skag''s mouth and saving me a serious problem. Rolling over - the carcass of another skag whizzed past - shot from my knee, shot standing. Reload, shot, grenade throw, shot. The corpses piled up all around were in the way, but - I jerked up a small skag and covered myself with it from the spit of the still alive one, and then threw the carcass.


    Some of the skag carcasses formed real barricades; one of them was covering my turret. Unfortunately, this provided the BalRog with a supply of shells; fortunately, it didn''t discriminate between dead and alive.


    Another plus - the "Threat Level" of the local skags was low, and they died quite easily, so the "Wave" volleys killed several at a time with luck. The main problem was the flaming giant; my armor could withstand a couple of burps of skags or varkid spikes even after the shield was depleted, but its projectiles... So I ran around, trying not to trip, dodging projectiles, and mopping up the minnows.


    One more turret stalled, and the robots'' fire almost stopped, but there were only a few mobs left.


    Bang!


    None left at all, I think.


    BalRog and I looked at each other. Everything froze for a moment, and then we rushed toward each other.


    ...No, this wasn''t a new case of "For the Stroibat!", no matter how effective the last one had been. I wasn''t going to engage this thing in hand-to-hand combat, but luring it into the kill zone of the last turret left in the building was a good idea. Plus it''s worth a little closer...


    I dodged one of the skag''s thrown carcasses, but the clever thing immediately threw a second one at me. I leaned back, trying to miss it above me, but the damn skag turned out to be a male.


    ...Uh-huh, hit with a dick to the forehead, literally.


    Good thing I was wearing a helmet. Even so, I was toppled over on my back.


    I shot the rakks - there were still some left, after all - and with another volley managed to knock aside the shell that had been launched at me. The building gave me cover to reload; I peeked out from behind the wall, fired... first blood. Well, or whatever that thing is - at any rate, there''s a hit.


    Hitting the wall made it crack, but I''d already moved to the side. Reloa...


    Fucking hell. Shotgun''s out of ammo.


    I switched to an assault rifle, and once again used guerrilla tactics to shoot from cover. The houses wouldn''t last long, but if I could put a few bullets in enemy, it would not bad already.


    ...Huh? What happened to BalRog''s wings? And why did his name get smaller?


    - From above!


    Even with the warning, I barely had time to block a wing claw strike with my inexplicably snatched blade.


    ...It''s not "wings." It''s a "wing."


    "Rog, Threat Level: 12."


    Shots rang out in the distance.


    - For the motherland! For steel! You won''t get through, enemy! - shouted... a vacuum cleaner, by the sound of it.


    I fired a few bullets into the wings myself... what a lucky hit. The flying bird fell, almost right on top of me, and I couldn''t miss the opportunity. A swinging blow with my blade didn''t cut it in two, but left a deep wound and brought it to the ground - where a couple more blows finished it off. Still, flying creatures, even on Pandora, are relatively fragile.


    Without wasting a second, I leapt out from behind the building and fired a line at the Bal''s and the projectile it had thrown, nearly smearing the vacuum cleaner that had peeked out of the half-destroyed building. My... ally? was firing two small three-barrel rotary machine guns, the caliber of which was something between an assault rifle and a SG.


    ...Vladoff''s peaceful vacuum cleaner, yup.


    The gunfire had caused the fire enveloping the Bal to die down, and now I could make out that it was just a large bullywang with a "elemental charge". And also - that his front pair of arms, as thick as the tree he''d covered himself with from the vacuum cleaner''s fire, were covered in a sort of layer of stone that the bullets hit, knocking out sparks.


    He had no armor on his sides or back, though, which I was quick to take advantage of.


    The health bar was noticeably reduced. Despite its troublesome nature, this thing wasn''t as tough as I''d feared.


    Even the fact that after a couple seconds, the vacuum cleaner stopped firing and retreated into cover was no longer a problem. Yes, the Bal was still strong and dangerous, yes, it was death to relax, but....


    I was more dangerous, I wasn''t wounded, and I still had a turret.


    In the end, Bal managed to wound me in one last suicidal attack. With a swift leap he came close, and nearly knocked the breath out of me, but the shield and armor still cushioned the blow, and a volley to the small head finally finished the monster off. He must have broken a bone or two, but the first aid kit and the physiology of homo recens makes such an injury an unfortunate, unpleasant one, but no more than that.


    I''ll live.


    The population of the "kingdom" was more complicated. Technically, they... technically, that is, and were not alive, but I could not find anyone functioning. Well, except for the vacuum cleaner and the unkillable Claptrap.


    Having made sure of that, and having swept the neighborhood, I approached the "survivors".


    - Listen... - I turned to the vacuum cleaner. - Thanks for your help and everything, but one question. Where did you get the ammo from?


    - Sucked for it, - he said.

 Not Gandalf.

    In fact, the whole stampede disaster was to my advantage: there was no one left to stop me from finding the fabricator.


    ...In theory. In practice, I had little doubt that not all life had come to the surface - and, after all, something had driven it to the surface. All I needed to be sure of that was to ask Claptrap''s opinion and hear him say, "Don''t worry, boss, it''ll be all right - it''s definitely safe!"


    - Boss, it''s definitely safe now!


    ...Shit. Maybe we should wait and come back here in a week or two...?


    I shook my head. As tempting as it was, no. The fact that new beasts would come here, including carrion, was all right, but after the territory was cleared of the population, there might be others who wanted to get their hands on the factory. They''ll probably find some, if they don''t come after it on purpose, they''ll just try to mine it, and they''ll find it. And I''ve already done too much work to back out.


    Okay. I looked at the vacuum cleaner.


    - What are you gonna do next? - I turned to it.


    - It''s all dust and decay, but it''s time for a cleanup - he said. - First the cleaning, and then we''ll see. Hmm, maybe we can sell some of the meat and hides ...


    - Good luck with that, - I nodded. - Do you have a name, by the way, or some sort of designation?


    - Partially Armoured Special Tactical Original Robot - he said. - They call me Pastor.


    - How do you call the boat... - I muttered. - Seriously, who even comes up with names like that...?


    Suddenly, I got an answer. And not even from a vacuum cleaner.


    - Vladoff''s names are invented by someone named Schnitzel. A murky person, some even believe that he is an agent of some "Great Ancients", probably Eridians, or global special services - said Angel, whose hologram appeared above the vacuum cleaner.


    - Begone, devil''s vision! - he shout with indignation.


    "Incoming call," the ECHO reported, and I took it, sighing. The hologram above the vacuum cleaner disappeared, but appeared in my augmented reality.


    - To what do I owe the honor? - I asked. - And yes, thank you for the information, though it was useless.


    - I''m glad to help, - the AI replied, ignoring the sarcasm. - I would like to inform you that I have established the exact location of what you are looking for... more or less accurate.


    - Trying to earn reputation points? - I snorted. - All right, spill what you got.


    It''s kind of stupid to be distracted when you''re sneaking around an area with potentially dangerous beasts, but curiosity is a thing. Plus a couple of turrets is a pretty good argument.


    In short, I couldn''t stand it any longer, and I went online to check the information Angel had given me. I mean, the one about the name maker.


    Well, what can I say? It checks out. Although the information was a pile of information - "Brand-master, designer of names, known as "Shitt" and "Schnitzel", whether either of these is a surname, or both are nicknames, is unknown". Who he is - unknown, who allowed - unknown, i only found a mediocre quality photo, showing a portly man with a sniper in his hands, wearing a baseball cap, which shows something very similar to the "kawaii"-ed Cthulhu.


    Well, that''s enough to solve the mystery: through these titles, he''s sacrificing the brains of poor users to the Great Ancient One. Heh.


    Having satisfied, at least partially, my curiosity, I digitized the turrets back into materials and headed for the target. The path was known... Roughly.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.    It came out... combined with this one in general. I originally had an old map of the mines, but it was an old one, since then both new passages had been dug and old ones had been blocked - even after the Dahl had left, the local robots were still mining something. But the vacuum cleaner who''d stayed upstairs helped, sharing the map he had - though he warned that it was also a little out of date. And Angel overlaid on it the coordinates of the triangulated signal from the fabricator, which she had somehow managed to detect (and which I would have to remember to disable or shield when I put my hands on my beauty).


    After half an hour, I already had the distinct feeling that this hill was considerably larger on the inside than it was on the outside. In fact, I wouldn''t have been surprised by that either - Pandora... But still, it''s probably just the constant curves of the mine''s corridors.


    And yes, there were still some creatures here, but single skags and varkids weren''t a problem. Still, I tried hard to suppress the thought that this would be an easy walk. On Pandora, you don''t joke around with things like that, as Claptrap had recently demonstrated.


    Although, in fact, he had demonstrated the exact opposite. But the point remains.


    Frowning, I looked at the door, a large unlocked metal door to the mine where, according to the map, the fabricator should be, and recalled the wisdom about a dungeon without monsters and the last door, behind which they all hide. On the other hand, this dungeon was not quite without monsters, and there is a simple and obvious explanation for their absence - they are all up there, in the stampede. Everything is logical and understandable, why wind yourself up?


    Indeed, why make a fool of yourself, if you can make a turret.


    Or better yet, two.


    ...No, two would be enough, the place is awkward.


    I gently pushed the door open, and it opened almost without a creak. Behind it was a large, generally domed room with a more or less level floor, but rough, untreated walls. And at the far end stood some sort of machine... though at a glance it could be mistaken for some sort of throne assembled from a pile of trash. I looked around, but there were no monsters in sight. A step forward, another.


    ...Of course.


    From somewhere above, out of the darkness that obscured the ceiling even in my enhanced vision, a creature burst into flames with a roar. A massive six-legged figure covered in thick fur, no wings, but large horns. One and a half times larger than the previous BalRog.


    The creature, grinning a huge mouth with teeth of the appropriate size, rose on its hind legs and stabbed itself in the chest with its four front legs, as thick as my torso; sparks of fire flew in all directions.


    "Balrog of the Depths," the ECHO reported. - "We told you it could always be worse."


    I raised the gun - and at that moment, the floor beneath us crumbled.


    I started firing while still falling, and the flashes of gunfire, combined with the Balrog''s fire, made it obvious that I couldn''t see the bottom.


    But I could see a ledge in the wall. And there''s old Newton on my side.


    I fired, and fired again, but not at the bullywang-Balrog, but to the side and down away from him. The recoil of the shotgun... well, not that great, but enough to throw me aside as I fell and slow my fall slightly. I hit the wall, bounced, and fired again to correct my fall.


    - Newton''s Third Law, bitch, - I said as the Balrog continued to fall. - Gandalf didn''t have a shotgun.

 The best battle is the one that went to someone else.

    With all the, shall we say, trials that Pandora regularly throws up, I stood on my rock ledge for a while, expecting to see a "King Kong Live"-like bullywang climbing the walls. No sounds or light appeared, however, and eventually I turned on my flashlight.


    By the way, strangely enough, flashlights are a problem on Pandora; there are practically none on sale, so I had to make one myself. Probably the problem here was homo recens'' improved vision, which, however, was still limited in pitch darkness without light sources.


    In any case, I had a homemade flashlight, and I wasn''t afraid to use it.


    The walls went upwards for about ten meters. That said, the landing wasn''t even particularly painful; not only my eyesight, but all other bodily functions are improved. Including stronger bones.


    After paying homage to biology, I began to evaluate speleology and mountaineering. These walls... The only thing in their favor was that they weren''t wet. Otherwise - even with the ability to digitally build climbing gear, that method doesn''t work here. I''m not Mordecai, after all, so we''ll go another way.


    Actually, I had several ways to get out. For example, I could contact someone who could bring a rope through the ECHO, with a vacuum cleaner for example. Or, better yet, digitally build a modular ladder, as I had more than enough metal to spare. I could even digitize the passageway leading up through the rock. But before I started building the staircase, I lowered the flashlight down and then added brightness.


    ...§°.


    The beam of light highlighted a pair of metal rails running along the wall, ending at the top at a hole in the wall - one of the tunnels penetrating the mountain. And below... First I noticed a platform of a hoist standing on the floor, with a couple of containers beside it; then I saw racks of lamps, now obviously turned off, with cables running from them. And then, a little farther away... Walls. Plain walls covered in strange lines of unknown material.


    Eridian structures.


    It wasn''t hard to get down, especially since I''d made a ladder. After a quick look around, I managed to not only find but also start the generator, so I had light.


    In which the bloodstains on the floor became visible. Infernal bullywang had survived the fall after all, and even the blood loss here wasn''t to say much - though I don''t know how it interacted with his fire, perhaps caked on.


    Grinning, I set up a couple more turrets. There were already two left upstairs, and I had a limited number of guns for them.


    To my deep satisfaction, searching the neighborhood without climbing into an Eridian relic yielded some very pleasant results - though they also yielded some unpleasant thoughts.


    I was apparently in an advance camp, probably archaeological, not officially mapped. The nice thing was that I found a fair amount of loot; containers contained various supplies, from food and clothing to ammunition, and I even found a nearly unprotected weapons container with a couple of pistols and an assault rifle, Dahl obviously.


    The downside was that it was all abandoned here. Abandoned stuff, nearby ancient ruins... no need to explain.


    Actually, no, I do need to explain something: Why did I come here?


    On the other hand, the loot.


    While thinking about it, I didn''t forget to install new turrets using the looted guns. Even if some crap comes out, with all this dears it won''t have an easy time... hopefully. The guns are so-so, actually.


    Suddenly, I almost jumped as I heard a loud roar and the sound of blows coming from the direction of the Eridian ruins. I thought of where to run and what shelter to hide behind, but then the roaring stopped.


    And then there was a reason for it.


    I saw some movement in the darkness of the passage into the Eridian structure, and I darted behind a wall ledge; just in time.


    The Eridian guardian I''d met at the last archaeological site had given me trouble despite being damaged. Now I had a solid, undamaged one in front of me, and correspondingly more dangerous. The ECHO agreed, marking it with an icon in the shape of a shimmering skull. "Threat Level: 20" Even without understanding how all these "TL''s" work and how they relate to my own "level", it was obvious that I shouldn''t mess with it. The Balrog, by the way, had a 14. Mine, by comparison, was 13.


    I signaled the turrets not to attack first, and lay low. The Guardian seemed to look around, lingering a little longer on the turrets and the lights on, but did not approach, instead disappearing into the Eridian structure. I breathed a sigh of relief: although I had some advantages here, in the form of already prepared turrets and limited flight space, I didn''t need this fight, even if there was only one Guardian.


    I''ll make a note of this place, but for now it''s time to head upstairs.


    I didn''t investigate the passage that led to the elevator, I just built a ladder against the wall and climbed up into the hole I''d fallen into. I could explore dangerous places later, because I had some ideas about how to deal with the guards. For now, I already have some good loot, and most importantly, I have a fabricator waiting for me.


    ...Though I''m afraid of what I might see in its condition.


    To my undisguised relief, the machine was almost undamaged. Well, scratches, minor dents, dust and debris - obviously; after removing the "decorations" piled on it that turned the machine into a "throne", it was noticeable that it had been tried to be smashed. But army equipment is tough, and minor damage to the outer hull had no effect on the fabricator''s performance.


    Internal power source - functioning. Activation key... accepted. In angular, really reminiscent of a primitive throne, machine, the panel opened - it was not clear that it was there - and I inserted the processor unit.


    Well, let''s see in detail what we can do with it.


    Half an hour later, I was frowning tensely and looking around. Something was obviously wrong, but I couldn''t figure out what it was.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.    The thing was, the fabricator was working. The internal power source was functioning without problems, diagnostics of all systems found no faults. There was a small but more than adequate supply of resources for the near future, and i even found a mobility system that explained how it had been shoved in here, and how I was going to get it out. The only noticeable problem was damage to the CPU unit, which I knew about beforehand. More to the point, when I started up the fabricator, I also got a level up message.


    Everything was going too well, and it was highly suspicious.


    Someone might say "well, I''ve already had two, even three bosses, and a stampede, plus I could barely avoid a run-in with an Eridian guardian, why bother for nothing?".


    "Naive!" - I would reply. - "It''s Pandora! She''s just waiting for you to relax so she can pull another mutant skag out of her hat! And if you can''t see the gopher, it just means it has a stealth system!"


    "Paranoid..." - the hypothetical interlocutor would say, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which I would chuckle from the height of my experience. Paranoia is not a sickness, it''s a survival pledge...


    - Boss, is this faithlessness...? - said Claptrap sadly. - Okay me, but think about your turret! You''ve been together for so many years!


    I glanced at the fabricator following me and cracked Claptrap with a shovel. It felt like the Dahl unit made a sound of approval...


    I originally wanted to send a message to the ECHONET about the Eridian ruins found in the bowels of Dead Mountain, containing alien treasures. Bandits and adventurers will surely react to this message, and with luck eliminate the guards - or at least damage them.


    However, there was a small unforeseen complication: the fabricator. I couldn''t take it away in a buggy; the shape and size didn''t allow it. It wouldn''t go far on its own, it was too slow, so I''d either have to find transportation or set it up right here on Dead Mountain, as there were still some remnants of minerals to be found.


    Hmm. Well, it''s not like there weren''t options.


    - Scooter, great. Hey, you got some kind of truck for this size load?


    Scooter, a young, slightly autistic-looking guy, was obviously happy to get my call.


    - That''s a great question, man. You''re just in time, I was just thinking about expanding my product line. Tell you what: I''ll make you the car you need if you bring me some stuff. All right?


    Oh, quest!


    ...I feel like I''m mutating into a MC.


    Scooter''s assignment was completely expected. He didn''t want to build a new car from scratch, so he asked me to get him a sample, based on which he would create his own model. And he promised to give him a bonus for additional equipment/accessories that he could get. He pointed out a couple of places where I could find what I needed, although no one stopped me from looking for it myself.


    What turned out to be the first place he pointed out was not surprising at all. A madhouse on wheels...


    I mean, it''s not my assessment, it''s the name. The motor gang, "Madhouse on Wheels." There''s a reward for them, but there''s a couple dozen of them in cars; it''s not going to be easy to kill them alone. You could, of course, try to just steal a wheelbarrow, but that''s not only lost money, but just plain rude, after all.


    You could also look at junkyards, and poke around in the ECHOnet. Richness of choice, freedom of self-expression... Pandora is a planet of possibilities.


    But first, we need to replenish our ammunition.


    Unfortunately, the fabricator didn''t make both types of grenades. More precisely, it required an external energy source to make them; a task for the future. For now, I fed him some of my raw materials from the ECHO and received in exchange the filling of ammunition stores.


    Also...


    - I am the path to truth; the shepherd to lost souls, - said the vacuum cleaner. - Agreed, boss.


    It was about me offering PASTOR a job. A supervisor over future convict miners; one cordon turret would not be enough. One vacuum cleaner probably isn''t either, but it''s a start....


    - I''m sorry, Mr. Dethlove, but I can''t, - Roland shook his head negatively. - I''m busy right now. Perhaps some other time.


    - I see, - I said. - It happens.


    - If you want, contact me again in a couple of days, - the black man offered. I nodded.


    - If I can''t finish it by then, I''ll do it. And, by the way, I can already sell some ammunition if you need it.


    Having completed the transaction, which provided - hopefully - a small boost to my personal reputation, I dialed another number.


    - Hey, Brick. You want to stretch your fists? I got some guys asking to get their asses kicked. It''s a paying job, and I provide coffee and ammo.


    - A mug of Los Plaines, and you got a deal, - the big guy said.


    I didn''t expect him to be a gourmet.


    I might have thought Brick was a vampire, but he ate the garlic clove in his sandwich and asked for more. Why am I even thinking about vampires? Well... I''d seen the way his wounds healed when his skin absorbed someone else''s blood.


    He didn''t drink it, though. But he did drink a large mug of expensive elite coffee with obvious pleasure... Bloodsucker.


    I must admit, though, it was worth the expense. While I was planning how best to attack the bandits, this juggernaut just ran up to the gate, kicked it, unloaded his shotgun, and started smashing enemies with his fists, almost ignoring shots even when his shield was down; that''s when I got a chance to see his regeneration.


    Obviously, I was trying to cover for my temporary partner, but this melee monster did most of the work himself. He wasn''t a berserker, though; when four vehicles with weapons on them rolled out of the garages, he retreated under the cover of the turrets I''d prepared just in case.


    ...Well, not "under cover." He just picked up a couple of boulders and threw them at the cars.


    - Good fight, - said Brick, glancing sadly at his empty mug. - You''re welcome if you need anything.


    I nodded and looked at the bloody teddy bear on the table.


    - And what is this? - I asked.


    - Well, it squeaks funny - answered the big guy and in demonstration of his words kicked the body lying on the ground. The bandit squeaked.


    - It''s really funny, - I agreed.

 The vicissitudes of the private(s) business, or joint point.

    As one quarry truck driver I had a drink with at Moxie''s Bar used to say, "Life is good when you take your time". And you can watch people work for you and make money for you; no wonder capitalism is so popular. It''s true that most people end up in the shoes of those who work hard rather than those who make money, but the majority usually don''t think about it - people live for a dream, after all.


    My own dream, however, was hit in the teeth.


    After Brick and I - mostly him, but I was also involved - cleaned up the Madhouse on Wheels, Scooter, as promised, made me a truck. What''s more, he even promised not to charge me for building the next one when I trashed this one (though I''d still have to use my own materials). This allowed me to move the fabricator to another abandoned mine, of which there are plenty on Pandora; most of them even have some equipment that can sometimes be repaired. A couple dozen turrets, a few trophy bandits - Brick hadn''t killed all of them - and the beginning was made.


    One might have expected that on a distant planet in the future ore would be mined by robots under human supervision. In practice, the opposite was true. The average Pandorian bandit is dumber than a vacuum cleaner, but much stronger and tougher than a vacuum cleaner, so PASTOR took on the role of overseer - and of cook: the stampede on Dead Mountain provided me with meat for a long time. Roasted skag, boiled skag, smoked skag, stewed skag... "Like my mother''s," as one of the bandits said, weeping.


    The materials were slowly coming in, the ammunition was produced and mostly sold (though I was beginning to regret the discount for Roland: the black man consumed ammunition in huge quantities). I ran the Dead Mountain treasure story on the ECHONET, and did another job for Tannis, without any serious incidents - the usual Pandorian surprises, like a nutcase trying to set up a "skag ranch" on the archaeologist''s site. To get through the fence he built, I had to first bring him food for the skags, then paint for their coloring, and then already inside to kill everyone when the owner let his pack down on me (he, by the way, died first, from his own "dogs"). Normal positive everyday life, all in all, with bright prospects.


    Until a message arrived on my ECHO.


    "Sender: AlBa


    Subject: I am saddened.


    Where is your spirit of Adventurism and Adventure (it''s the same thing)? Where is the young man who bravely took his first steps on his first unknown planet?"


    The word "first" made me nervously shrug.


    "You''re seriously going to trivialize wealth and safety instead of laughing valiantly in the face of death (he doesn''t really like that, so maybe you shouldn''t) and throwing yourself headlong into danger?


    Well... that''s very human, so I won''t judge you, I guess (although I could, yes). However... Are you sure you don''t want to interfere with what''s going on?"


    ?..


    "Really sure?"


    O_o ?...


    "Sure-sure?"


    ...Not anymore.


    "See, if events continue to unfold canonically... you''re not going to like it. Probably. It''s hard to say for sure - you mortals can be unpredictable at times, which is why I love (giving you surprises). No-no, no spoilers, but Pandora will no longer be a peaceful, quiet planet."


    ...No comment. Just... No comment.


    "So, think carefully. Which is more important to you - despicable philistine nature (and dangers in the future) or valiant adventurism (and dangers now)? No-no, don''t answer that, don''t disappoint me with a known answer in advance. Let me put it this way: I''ll just give you a good, convincing argument that adventure isn''t a bad thing, and that it''s worth starting to find the Vault and change canon right now."


    At that moment, a bolt of lightning struck near me from a clear, clear sky, nearly blinding me and slightly deafening me with its rumble.


    - ...I have to admit - the argument is really convincing... - I muttered, studying the suspiciously trollface-like smoking trail on the ground.


    In fact, AlBa was obviously unfair to me. I didn''t get involved in searching for the Vault not just because I preferred safety and comfort, as far as they were possible on Pandora, but also because I had no leads yet. Angel had disappeared somewhere and hadn''t been in touch lately, and Tannis was still working on the Eridian imprint that had recently been cleared for her. These two were the only reference points, so... Well, I was just arranging my life as best I could. And I even continued to work part-time, which involved shooting various animals, but apparently for AlBa it was too boring and didn''t even qualify as a side quest. I''ll even agree, I guess.


    So--


    - If you''re pushing into the story, at least give me a clue - I remarked aloud. - The MC has markers if not the purpose of the task, at least the quest givers, and the plot drags them.


    "Incoming message."


    "Fair enough."


    "Incoming message, sender: Patricia Tannis."


    "Congratulations! I have great news for you. My work on transferring the Eridian records into a digestible form for the mentally handicapped is nearing completion, and I have decided to put your name on the list of assistants, right behind Clork and Phillip (as I recall, you haven''t met them, they are my ceiling chairs). Your assistance to science will still be needed, the work of an archaeologist never ends, but you can be proud of yourself.


    And about the little things. I was able to confirm the reality of the Eridian Vault on Pandora, and more or less locate it.


    Oh, and I made a grant application from Atlas, so you don''t have to worry about funding."


    "Incoming message, sender: Patricia Tannis."


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.    "Oh, I almost forgot. My bad... have you no shame at all? Making a girl say she''s guilty of something! Boor. What to expect from a mercenary douchebag, though.


    Anyway. Remember that unusual Eridian relic you gave me to study? I have great news for you... no, I already had great news. Hmm... complex wording, complex wording... Wunderful news. Yeah, that''s good. "Wunderful"... I think that''s going to be my new favorite word, at least for the next twelve minutes. Anyway... oh, did I say that already too? It''s so hard to relate to you guys... Perhaps I should isolate myself from society.


    Back on topic. Your, I mean my, I mean Eridian artifact is only a fragment of the whole object, so you have a miraculous opportunity to collect the rest, I would say three. Yeah, three is a good number. Wunderful. Work hard, archaeology relies on you!"


    "Incoming message, sender: Patricia Tannis."


    "Oh, and sending you the coordinates of promising Eridian structures I know of."


    Number one on the list was a place I already knew: the facility under Dead Mountain. Well... Considering it was a tip from the AlBa, it''s worth checking again, I suppose.


    Dead body. Another body, another... oh, and another. Wow, they weren''t here last time. Heh.


    My scam - which may not be such a scam - about the treasure in the bowels of Dead Mountain worked out better than I expected. Hell, I didn''t even have to lie about anything - I just posted a video of the site, including the archaeological camp, the Eridian structures, and the guards. And then it''s simple logic: if they''re guarding it, it means there''s something valuable.


    Man, I''d already made a pretty good profit on one weapon from the corpses of those losers.


    There were other factors, good and bad. Good - I found the ruined remains of a guardian, with a pilot-axe still sticking out. The owner of the last one was lying next to it - a corpse, I mean. He was a big guy.


    Destroying the guard was good for me. The bad thing was that this guard wasn''t the only one, since no one survived to collect the weapons.


    ...Well, it''s still too early for me to go in there. I need to be better prepared.


    And I have options.


    - So that''s what you are, a skill point... - I said thoughtfully, looking at the object in my hand.


    My mine was gradually becoming, how should I say, an official facility, and its population was gradually growing - not only because of the captured bandits. To my surprise, I had some volunteers: first a starving dwarf who had already been a miner before he joined the bandits, then another normal-sized dude who had "heard the food here was good". Both of them ended up working for food and uniforms (plus lodging), and surprisingly, they didn''t complain. However, that''s not the point, but the point is that people started to show up at my mine; someone came to buy the fabricator''s products, someone to sell something, that sort of thing. And since there was traffic and a flow of goods and services, there were additional opportunities for trade.


    First, I installed Marcus''s vending machine next to it; slightly modified, it sold only weapons, no ammunition - no competition in that respect. Then Scooter''s vending machine. And finally, Moxie set me up with another Pandorian monopolist, "Dr." Zed. In quotes, since this type himself admitted without the slightest embarrassment that he wasn''t a real doctor.


    In any case, he too had set up his vending machine on my property, selling drugs, tranquilizers, medicines, supplements, bandages and plasters - with pictures to suit all tastes - and shields. I didn''t get any taxes or share of sales, but nevertheless, this cooperation had at least two advantages: first, I made him an order for a good shield - for reasonable money - and second, he gave me a gift "In the hope of a long and fruitful cooperation".


    Namely, a new smart visor, a "class modifier". Manufactured, however, not by Vladoff, but by Hyperion, but compatible.


    And even more so.


    "Unusual class modifier for the Engineer Assembler class." Support when firing (increased critical damage and accuracy), assisting in mounting (Assembling Engineer skill +1)."


    The ECHO this time gave more detailed information on the green-colored visor, and I couldn''t help but notice that it not only gives visual cues when aiming, but also increases the skill. An extra skill point in the form of, hehe, a pointed visor. Pointed in a good way.


    What it meant in practice was this: what looked like just a lens in a frame was in fact a small computer with a small specialized database and an operating system that wasn''t up to AI, but could take over some of the tasks in digital construction, plus help with design and simulation of structures. A smart electronic cheat sheet, you might say. Relatively smart. And this, in turn, helped not only with construction, but also with the deployment of the turret: its digitalization was a bit faster. It''s a small thing, but it makes a difference.


    I also spent a skill point that had been hanging around since my last level up. I had to struggle with the choice again, but in the end I settled on Basic Military Training, which was becoming not so "basic" anymore.


    - Fifty squats under cover! Disassembling the enemy with an assault rifle! Getting behind a shovel and away from enemy fire! Someday these simple techniques will save us from having to train a new fighter because of your death, soldier, so memorize them well!


    I brushed the sweat off my forehead. The memories this time were quite... intense. I wonder what kind of ''advanced military training'' they have...?


    ...Nah, I don''t want to know.


    Anyway... With that, and a new shield, it''s time for me to get back out into the field.


    And hopefully I''ll finish it and not the other way around.

 A new model, or a glimpse into the future.

    Normal heroes always take a detour. Of course, I''m not a protagonist, and there are serious doubts about my normality - is there anyone normal on Pandora? Or rather, who could be called normal on Earth? - but since I live in a reality with RPG elements, it''s a almost god''s will.


    Although if you think of AlBa as a god, I don''t think he did.


    Or can I say so, if they''re sidequests? Considering that all normal players do them first - probably. I''ll take it that way, anyway.


    In any case, it''d be downright stupid to run headlong into the Eridian guards. You''d have to prepare well first, stock up on weapons, ammunition, and shields,


    and not go.


    ...It would be nice, yes. Alas, by the will of God, or whoever AlBa is, we have to.


    Hmm, can it be considered a holy quest, in that case...?


    Well, either way. I''ll really need all the trump cards I can get, and if there are some difficulties with equipment, it''s quite possible to raise a level, and preferably several. Look for a part-time job, the same Moxie usually has one. As I understand it, it counts as tasks for which I get "experience", and I have to shoot. Plus something for the "Club of the Badassess", they have some nice bonuses for advanced members there.


    The problem is that these part-time jobs can be just as dangerous at times.


    - Just find a lost worker, or at least his ECHO, they said. Just a simple job for a couple hours, they said - I hissed.


    - Don''t get distracted! - Mordecai yelled through the rumble of the machine gun, and I turned the wheel, rounding a large boulder ahead.


    This job, for a change, had been thrown to me by a hunter. A technician had gone missing on a small farm mixed with a mining and processing facility - even on this planet, it turns out, some things still aren''t done through digitalization. The owner asked to find him dead or alive - at least to get his ECHO and tools back - and for an additional fee to kill the skags that most likely ate the poor guy, plus help with repairing and adjusting the equipment. Mordecai was quite able to do the first part himself, but the last part was the main thing for the customer, so the hunter decided that it made sense to call and do everything together. And it would be safer - the customer had warned that there were a lot of skags there.


    - How many of them are there? - Mordecai said angrily.


    - Do not count, shoot! - I responded.


    - The machine gun overheated! - He responded, and I, holding the wheel with one hand, handed my partner the Wave. He chuckled his tongue, but opened fire.


    For Mordecai trail was easy to follow. Unlike me, the hunter was really a hunter, and needed no applications: his eyes, and those of his pet (though he preferred "partner") did the job of a tracker far better than ECHO. I followed him, since on the one hand I would need to work one of the test rigs if a worker died, and on the other hand I had a wheelbarrow on which to cover sections of the trail faster. Plus, a chance to get a little hands-on lesson from a pro, and cover in the form of a car turret, just in case. Even though it''s much less powerful than one might think, but the "ammunition" is very cheap, practically free. And considering that the goal was not to track prey, but to find a missing person, the noise of the machine was not a problem. More likely to scare off lone predators.


    Well, that''s what we thought.


    The Bloodwing sounded nasty scream a second before a small hill nearby exploded; just enough time for me to jump on the car, starting to climb into the driver''s seat - the turret could be controlled from there, too. A second more, and I could see in my scope from unknown... no, from under the ground - there were at least three dozen skags, and more kept appearing. Three things stopped me from firing immediately: their number, the fact that they were in no hurry to attack, and two other things.


    - Who are you and what are you doing here? - The human sitting on some sort of throne on the back of another giant alpha-skag, a man in dirty overalls with a large wrench sticking out of his breast pocket, asked.


    And, to make matters worse, both the giant and most of the other skags were wearing a kind of metal plate armor.


    Mordecai glanced at me.


    - Mercenaries, - I said. - Looking for you, I think. At the behest of our employer.


    - This fool wants me back? - said the man, and raised his hands to the sky. - Too late! He never appreciated my talent, my skill, my ingenious plans! But no longer will I be limited by his limitedness and narrow-mindedness! Now that I have been able to achieve...


    He stopped abruptly and stared at Mordecai and me, shifting his gaze from one to the other.


    - I''ve got it! - he proclaimed with apparent madness. - This wretch wants to force me back so that he can continue to exploit my genius! But now that I have this army at my disposal, all of Pandora....


    BANG! The man collapsed with a hole in his forehead.


    The eyes of both Mordecai and skags crossed on me. I put the revolver away and shrugged.


    - What? - I asked. - It would have come to this anyway. Now...


    The ''bird'' figure fell from the sky onto the corpse, tearing the ECHO off of it.


    - ...Let''s go!


    I opened fire, covering Mordecai, a fraction of a second later than the skag flock took off. He swung into the gunner''s turret and took over; I hit the gas in the process. The closest skag, even though it was riddled with bits of metal, managed to claw the car, but it didn''t have the strength to claw back.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.    The others, however, were a problem.


    The armor the madman had put on them was good enough to withstand the machine gun from the auto-turret; Mordecai managed to hit the gaps between the plates despite the movement, the shaking, and the low accuracy of his weapon, but Pandora''s critters were tough and resilient, and there were a lot of them.


    - Any grenades? - Mordecai shouted.


    - Where would a poor engineer get grenades? - I shouted back.


    - All in the house, for kids? - He snorted, continuing to take short bursts.


    - I don''t come from Pandora. We''re out of our own, and there''s no production yet, - I explained. The hunter seemed to tsk.


    The Bloodwing, perched on the metal frame of the lattice at the gunner''s nest, made its unpleasant scraping sound and soared into the sky. A second, and it fell on the pack, clawed for a second with its claws, of considerable size, into the beast''s backbone, and soared again, returning to its master. And in his claws... I pulled one hand off the steering wheel, rubbed my eyes, looking in the mirror, and even turned around. Nah, my eyes didn''t deceive me: there was a grenade in the wing''s claws. Wut.


    - ...How does he do that...? - . . .it came out of my mouth.


    Instead of an answer, though, only an explosion followed as the wing''s master used the offering. The grenade split into several smaller grenades, covering the expanded space with explosions, but that wasn''t enough: a singularity grenade would have been a good fit here, the other modifications not so much.


    Alas, it seemed that Bloodwing had already done its fair share of common sense abuse for the day. He still attacked the Skags a couple times, but he didn''t bring any new grenades - only ammo blocks and one banknote.


    ...In principle, this is also absurd.


    It seemed that new skags immediately took the place of the knocked out skags; one consolation was that they were no longer armored. Unfortunately, the unarmored ones were faster.


    Also, some were spitting even on the run. Mordecai knocked down some of the spit, but the ones that did hit him had to use a sprinkler, the equivalent of a fire extinguisher, for fire and acid.


    The main problem, however, was the alpha. The giant, despite its size and armor, from which bullets simply bounced, was even faster than smaller relatives, and did not catch up with us mainly because the usual skags tangled under his feet. So we had to shoot them very selectively, mostly the ones that got ahead; the tumbling carcasses slowed him down.


    That''s all, unfortunately. I don''t know what kind of armor that psycho had put on him - a colleague, my ass - but despite Mordecai''s attempts, the ECHO displayed a full bar of hitpoints, with no damage taken. Weapons were too weak to penetrate it, and even corrosive weapons only left smudges. It would be good to get a piece of that armor and see what was in it... but first, survive.


    I had a plan after all. A good one, a solid one. I''m exaggerating. But it at least not crazy.


    Lead the pack to the client''s base? Nah. They''ve got a good defense there, but even if they decide to cover us, they''ll take it out of our pay. But there are free perimeter turrets in the other direction, even closer. The only problem is not getting hit by their fire.


    - Angel! - I said. - If you want to earn a point in your favor, you have a great opportunity!


    No answer. All right, I''ll do it myself.


    Border turrets, as already mentioned, are simple and cheap, controlled by simple algorithms instead of AI, and they have no friend-enemy identification system; they shoot at any target that crosses the border at a standard range from the turret. So.


    - ECHO, display the guard zone of the border turrets - I commanded, and the area ahead of us became the colored red. And now the most problematic moment... - Start the liquidation program.


    The name - from "liquid" as "fluid", a program of accelerated synthesis of water. To replace the water that was now pouring out in a thin layer of sand and dust on the rock behind us.


    Cryogenic weapons had not taken root on Pandora, alas - too sensitive to the dust that was ubiquitous here. But even without it...


    The skag''s paws are good at finding their footing on rock and mud. But wet rock... that''s more difficult. Especially when you''re dealing with a multi-ton carcass with a lot of inertia.


    Hard to brake in time.


    The whistling sound of a shot with a thud... and a pop? testified that my bet had played out. The giant skag practically burst from the hit of... three? shells of turret cannons; it was joined by a couple of smaller skags, which also did not have time to slow down.


    - Not bad, - Mordecai said approvingly.


    - Praise me fully, - I said. - Can you handle the rest of them?


    - Sure.


    The hunter was true to his word. By interspersing turret fire with handgun fire, he reduced the pack''s numbers until the remaining skags gave up pursuit: even they can recognize when prey is out of reach.


    The employer listened to the report about the armored skags with obvious interest instead of concern, but since we were paid substantially more for the ECHO, Mordecai and I decided not to go into it - there was too little ammo left, and we''d definitely need it if we were to delve deeper into the local affairs.


    - How likely do you think it is that in a while there will be armored skag riders in the Sands or something? - Mordecai asked. I shrugged.


    - I think, plus minus a hundred percent. Do you want to go back and prevent it?


    - Nah, I don''t get paid for that, - the hunter said. He handed me a flask. - You want one?

 Treachery.

    What I had longed for was accomplished quietly and without fanfare. Dr. Zed, whom I was beginning to doubt - not his doctoring skills, I didn''t believe in them in the first place - had found a good shield for me. Well, a relatively good one; better than my current one, at least. It''s an Anshin, with improved resistance to electricity, and an additional "medical" module that has a restorative effect on the body. It''s a candy bar, I''d lick it, my tasty.


    ...if I had one. Alas, and probably quite expectedly, this treasure of purple, "epic" in my ECHO''s estimation, grade, Zed was unwilling to give it away for nothing.


    By "for nothing," I mean "for money." Really "for nothing" this bastard does not give even used medical wipes, he sells them to some sect.


    Anyway, another mission, which is not so bad, because it means another portion of experience. And, about that... The levels absolutely did more than just heal me and add sets of memories with skills. I was clearly stronger and more resilient; I could lift more weight, and my shovel would dig deeper into wood when I hit it. I couldn''t catch up with the Brick, but I was already much stronger and tougher than even a highly trained and athletic Earthman. Obviously homo recens physiology - hell, when I tried to go for a run, I found that I was more hungry than I was tired, and hunger didn''t build up very fast, either - but my body''s physical aptitude scores were going up with each level increase. Not all of them, though; I didn''t notice any improvements in reaction, coordination, or perception, just strength and endurance - well, and survivability.


    ...And also the killing power of weapons. With each level, its power increased, slightly, but really.


    Yeah, it really is. No, not mistaken. No, I have no idea how it works. Yeah, it''s idiotic. Pandora, man... Despite the claims of "realism". What kind of realism can we talk about after "The Wave" and the skag sniper...?


    Anyway, back to business as usual. The good doctor - is the sign "SARCAZM" clearly visible? - has asked me to supervise the delivery of a shipment of guinea pigs and lab rats he needs for medical experiments, protecting them from a group of eco-activists.


    Local, Pandorian, eco-activists.


    Given that the local vegetarian ideologue didn''t finish me off thanks only to a miracle and the help of Slippery Jim, it''s not surprising that I took this assignment very seriously.


    - Oh, and given the need to avoid casualties, you''ll need tranquilizers, - Zed informed me. - I''ll lend you a couple of guns with instructions, use them.


    - I didn''t expect you to care about the Hippocratic Oath or anything like that - I remarked.


    - The Hippocratic Oath? - wondered the doctor. - Oh... no, you can shoot the assholes, I''ll buy the organs, if they''re in good condition. Tranquilizers for the animals, if the gunfight stirs them up. Or if they break out of their cages... By the way, you want to take a course in field amputation and autopsy? Inexpensive, and there are techniques adapted to the shovel.


    Pandora...


    It was obvious from the start that this assignment would not be safe. Examination of the tranquilizer guns sent by the "good doctor", however, showed that I underestimated him: the caliber was not at all for a guinea pig. Or even a real pig. It was more like a big wild boar... a guinea boar. I mean, even bigger.


    To be exact, Zed gave out three guns. A rifle that fired not just injector darts, but big syringes a couple fingers thick; a shotgun with some green gel balls with liquid inside as shot; and a grenade launcher with gas grenades. Labeled "For Sample A," "To Sample B," and "Against Sample C."


    ...A peek into the cages convinced me that there were probably more "guinea pigs" to fear than potential eco-terrorists.


    The "Specimen C" cage contained a dozen "badass varkids," as the ECHO had labeled them. The insects that had undergone "combat mutation" were larger than usual, with thicker shells - a couple of them had a distinct shine of metal - and they all looked a little different. The only upside was that they were all immersed in some form of anabiosis - but there was a downside. Varkids don''t live very long after they''ve automutated, a few hours at most; it''s their way of sacrificing themselves to protect the swarm. So if they woke up, they''d have to be sedated again as soon as possible, since Doc had ordered a live delivery.


    "Sample A" was overall a fairly ordinary, just that large, skag. "Sample B," on the other hand... Half a dozen rather small - cubs? - skags. Three of them were obviously "elementally charged", as evidenced by the sparks and greenish vapor that escaped when they breathed, plus the shimmering on their hides and the glow in the cracks in their skin. Three more... mutants, I presume? The hide of one was covered in plates of armor, and I couldn''t even identify the material; it didn''t look like bone, horn, or chitin, more like stone. Or even metal. The other was covered in spikes here and there; there were no horns, though.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The last one bothered the most. The pink skag looked completely harmless, and even cute, which was especially disturbing. I didn''t even want to know what horrors lurked beneath that soft-looking hide, but I didn''t even doubt that I could not trust that thing. Man, even in his cage he was lying apart from the other skags... Even his kin can smell a trick.


    - We, the Saviors of Suffering Animals, demand the animals be returned to the wild immediately! - proclaimed the dude in the fox mask - apparently. The smoker''s fox, I''d say.


    The five armed types behind him nodded in agreement.


    Dumbasses. They even had white-grade weapons.


    I was the only guard - and driver - of the truck carrying the cages, but... Damn. I''ve got six armed assholes in front of me, and they elicit from me just a mixture of contempt and pity. Somehow, even though I''m a "caution and discretion above all else" kind of guy, and even though they''re all armed, and a couple of them even have shields, there just didn''t seem to be any danger. Especially since the ECHO rated their "Threat Level" as 5-6.


    The leader, by the way, had a 4.


    - SSA? - I asked.


    - Oh, you''ve heard of us? - the leader chimed in.


    - No, I mean, it''s the opposite of a ASS.


    - I told you it should have been called Army of Species Saving, - the man behind me muttered. Army of Species Saving? I shook my head.


    - Wouldn''t help.


    Those clowns... I didn''t even want to shoot at them. On the other hand... Hmm.


    - Anyway, are you sure you want it? - just to clear my Pandora-ravaged conscience, I asked.


    - We will never stray from the path of justice and protection of our lesser brothers! - proudly proclaimed the leader.


    - Okay, - I said, shrugging my shoulders. - Do you want some animals? No problem.


    With these words I poked at the lock release button... oops.


    Wrong one. I wanted A, but it opened B.


    The skags, who had been sleeping, reacted immediately. Each of them jumped out of their cages and rushed to their chosen targets; most of the eco-jerks didn''t even seem to realize what was happening. Two of them opened fire, but they didn''t even hit.


    A second, and I opened fire, too. The shotgun fired quietly and with almost no recoil, but the shock and corrosive skags staggered and settled, followed by the fire and spiky ones, concentrating on gnawing off the body parts of the freedom fighters. The cannon was surprisingly effective... Though the skags were small and the ammunition was few. Probably expensive, too.


    The armored skag took two shots - and a reload - and I took aim at the last one, a pink one, slowly approaching the leader of the morons who had fallen on his ass and seemed to be wetting himself, looking at the beast with horror. Skag rubbed himself against the man, clearly selecting on the most appetizing parts, and then the tranquilizing pellets from the shotgun hit him.


    Huh, mercy is a bargain. I charged the assholes a lot of money to provide medical care. And don''t forget the moral satisfaction of having guided the lost to the right path... ugh, I need to communicate less with the Pastor.


    - And if you get caught again, I''ll sic Claptrap on you, - I told the disabled team. - Oh, but if you need coffee makers, you''re welcome.


    Oddly enough, there were no significant incidents after that. I brought the cargo to the place and handed it over to the doc, who was rubbing them - hands, I mean, but varkids too. Pink, seeing Zed, seemed to be trying to wag his absent tail. Definitely up to something... I know these skags well. So it was a relief to turn them in to the self-appointed doctor, and get my charms. Even the fact that it meant having to move on the main quest and climb into the jaws of the Eridian guards, which they lacked, couldn''t dampen my joy - especially since I was going to get weapons and level up at least one level first. I won''t go to Kincaid, but I can try to order some good electric gun, SG or automatic rifle through Vladoff...


    A couple days later I met Zed in Moxie''s bar, where he doesn''t appear very often. Judging by the doctor''s sour look and the nearly empty bottle--


    - Something wrong, Doc? - I asked. - Perhaps I can help, for a reasonable fee?


    He waved his hand sluggishly, and I noticed that there were three empty bottles under the table. A closer look, however, showed that they were soft drinks.


    - All the samples are dead, - he complained. - The ones you brought.


    I frowned.


    - Hey, I delivered fine, handed it over with no problem.


    Zed waved it away just as sluggishly.


    - Not your fault. The janitor screwed up, opened the cages, and the pink one ate everyone. Plus three patients in recovery.


    He sighed heavily, then pounded his fist on the table.


    - There was still one recovery session left unpaid!


    - I sympathize, - I chuckled. - So what now?


    - What''s you mind? - The doctor was surprised. - Obvious, I''m going to charge the full fee up front now.

 Pirated!

    Flipping through Vladoff''s gun catalogs has driven me into a depression. The main selection of barrels on offer, of "white" and "green" quality, were, frankly, raggedy crap. Or rather, the "white" ones are crap from any manufacturer, and the green ones are not much better, but... Man, the performance is mediocre, and no "zest". The rate of fire is good, but I''m probably too steeped in Mordecai''s "an extra shot is an extra shot" philosophy.  A deluge of bullets has its uses if you can afford it, but it wasn''t turret guns I wanted to stock up on; I wanted good guns for myself.


    It wasn''t the lack of good guns that upset me, though. Rather, the exact opposite.


    Vlad''s elite models had sharp increase in quality. Hell, a few purple and a couple of orange snipers would make even me, even though I''m not a sniper, drool if I didn''t already have a very, very decent (though still mysterious) Nutcracker in my inventory. Several excellent grenade launchers with economy technology that allows you to save some of the antimatter in the cartridge block with the same explosion effect. There were no really good shotguns, though, and there were only a few "green" models, but there were some pretty good pistols, and the selection of assault rifles and machine guns - to suit all tastes, of quite good quality, albeit with a focus on speed and reliability rather than accuracy or damage.


    The problem was the prices.


    The prices of the really good specimens... Not so much biting, but pointing their set of barrels at the potential buyer, ready to fire. Hell, a handheld sniper anti-tank rifle that can pierce light vehicles through and through is worth it, but I just don''t have that kind of money! Same goes for all the other guns that caught my eye. The Groza machine gun from the special series of elemental weapons, for example.


    And by the way, from what I''ve seen, from what I''ve seen, it''s the speed of fire that will be effective against the Eridian guardians. But money... I could buy this machine gun with almost all of my finances, but that''s obviously stupid.


    ...For some reason, I have a strange feeling that money shouldn''t be an issue. Perhaps I''m missing something...?


    With thoughts like that, I absentmindedly pursued what I can do for now - armor, for example. The plates from the armored skags were not bad in terms of strength, but too heavy to use for personal armor (and it was difficult to change their shape; it was not possible through the ECHO, the material is protected by the license). However, it was quite possible to close the car with them, which I did. For his own armor used his bonus from the "club of the reckless" - gained enough achievements to purchase. And still, what to do with guns...? Wantwantwantwantwantwantwantwant!


    ...Okay, okay, that''s enough. I''m not a kid who saw a shiny toy in a store. I''m a serious businessman, a grown man who''s been through a lot of scags, gangbangers, and other Pandora''s Day stuff, including Moxie. All I did was see a cool gun in a catalog, and, like,


    ...wantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwantwant!..


    ...Oh, here we go. I think I need to save up money.


    Money''s money, it''s always good, but it''s not gonna earn itself, unfortunately. I''ve had enough to do, whole ocean of work. I can hardly believe there''s one on Pandora. I had steppes, deserts and mountains, though in principle with the FTS it''s no problem to be anywhere in the world... of those where there are old hacked stations, yeah.


    Now, though, the sea was right there, right at my feet. Or rather, the ocean.


    I sneezed at the cold and peculiar odor.


    In fact, the cold felt strange. The icy wind tingled my skin, and the ice and snow around me smelled like bitter frost - but my body felt more psychological discomfort than physiological. Biotechnology and genetic engineering rulezz... Even with the shield off, it was no problem, and with it on, it was almost comfortable.


    I picked at the ice with my foot and kicked a piece of it toward the low dark waves, watching it disappear into the distance. Depressing... But there''s not much choice of available stations, and this one was the most suitable.


    The answer to the question "what am I doing here" was simple: I needed water. Seawater, to be precise, in rather large quantities. Or rather, not the water itself, but the Mendeleev table dissolved in it. Although the composition of the water of Pandora''s seas is somewhat different from Earth''s (sort of), the abyss of the sea on both planets contains a lot of treasures. I mean, I''m talking about chemical elements dissolved in the water, not pirate treasure. Why would there be pirates here?


    - Yoo-hoo-hoo! - came from the wind. I raised my eyes tiredly to the sky.


    ...But okay, I admit it was funny.


    The fun, however, quickly evaporated at the sight of the approaching black-flagged vessel. Even if this is just another one of AlBa''s jokes, pirates can be trouble.


    However, bandits - and pirates - are not only potential problems, but also trophies and exp.


    I probably wouldn''t have waited for them to approach - caution and prudence above all! - but I actually had not a just bare, icy shore here. In the past twenty-four hours, I''d managed to build a basic distilling station, extracting goodies from the water for the fabricator. Give it time, and I can get grenade production up and running... So far, I''m still just getting started, but it''s already attracting a lot of attention, so the pirates won''t miss it, and seven to three, they''ll tear the place apart for me. I put four turrets, but even without onboard guns - which the pirate boat fortunately didn''t have - dismantling it won''t be a big problem. In the future, I''ll put a grenade launcher in one of the turrets; that might be enough to sink a ship like this.


    Too bad my AI only support a limited number of objects at a time, otherwise I''d just make the whole place a forest of turrets. A forest of turrets... That sounds Pandorian.


    Well, four should be enough to take out the pirates since they don''t have artillery. I''ll put my new shield to the test.


    Contrary to my expectations, the pirates were in no hurry to dock or open fire. The ship, which really looked like a metal trough with a thick column of mast in the middle, stopped a hundred meters from the shore; one of the punks on deck raised a horn to his lips.


    - Hey, there on the shore! Don''t you dare steal our sea!


    - Pardon? - I said perplexedly. I slapped myself on the forehead, searched a little, and digitally built my own loudspeaker horn. - Pardon? What are you talking about?


    - I say this is our sea, and we walk it! - replied the pirate. - And not any land rats to pump it out! Arrgh!


    I "listened" to myself, and realized that if something surprised me, it was the fact that the pirate began to talk about something, not the content of his speech. Pandora, what are you doing to me?


    - Anyway, get the hell out of here and put the water back where it belongs. This sea is for pirates only!


    - So I''m a pirate too! - i call back - Here, I have pirated licenses for ECHO. ECHO, send him a confirmation.


    "Found addressee. Sending," the machine''s AI responded. The pirate looked down at his belt and made some manipulations with his own ECHO, then raised his hand, suggesting that I wait, and gathered a few more people around him, with whom they began to confer.


    - The situation is difficult, but we decided to give you a chance, Yarr! - finally announced the pirate. - Pass the Trial to become a true pirate!


    Sidequest. I''ll bet.


    - What is this "trial"? - I asked.


    - On Skull Island, in the Cave of Bones, get the True Pirate''s Tricorn! - the pirate proclaimed in a pompous pose. - I''ll send you the map right away.


    "Incoming message received!"


    - Okay," I shrugged. - It''s a deal.


    It''s time and effort, but it''s exp. It''s worth it, I guess.


    I''m not a sailor, not even close, but the place on the pirate map wasn''t too far from shore, and navigation on Pandora wasn''t really a problem. The harder part was negotiating with Scooter to rent a vessel; we eventually settled on a small hovercraft, complete with a single-seat inflatable boat with a motor. Me as captain, ECHO as navigator/navigator, and off we went....


    The icy gray sea was depressing, and the sight of greenery ahead was a treat for the eyes. Uh-huh, winter all around, and summer ahead, on a patch of land in the middle of the ocean. I even suspected for a couple of seconds that AlBa had either pulled me into One Piece or dragged to Pandora Island from there; he would do that, I suspect.


    That wasn''t the point, though.


    "Skull Island Preserve." - announced from the shrubby board on the shore as I disembarked. And even before that, as I got closer, the transparent dome of a giant shield covering the entire island became visible. Not a combat shield, just a ''climate'' shield, but a shield nonetheless. - "The population is elsewhere. Don''t feed volcano! Don''t taunt varkids! Don''t forget write last will! Beware stalkers! Conserve ammo! Never, ever make deals with a dragons!"


    Huh. I couldn''t have said it better myself.


    It was much warmer under the dome around the island than it was outside, and the climate control in my armor was long gone - and I''m not likely to fix it anytime soon, it is not the cheapest pleasure. Lots of vegetation, humidity, strange sounds - jungle as it is, except that there are no bird cries, as there are none on Pandora. Maybe there are wings here, though... Anyway, the jungle was usually a dangerous place, but still a nice change from the desolate scenery of the damn planet. I had little doubt that I''d have time to hate the jungle as well, but for now I welcomed the change of scenery.


    I got the impression that this island was, how shall I put it, bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. I mean, the area under the dome is bigger than the island looks from outside it. Change the name to "cursed island" and it would be perfect.


    Oh, and if I wasn''t already an enemy of Pandorian eco-activists, now I definitely would be. Varkids, spider ants, a couple of skags... The local creatures were jungle-colored instead of the usual dusty-sandy, and a bit tougher than usual, which reflected the ECHO in their "threat level". I had to tread carefully, trying to lure them to the turrets prepared near the shore - the landing points - but it wasn''t as easy in the jungle as it was in the steppe. I knew I''d hate this vegetation... It''s a convenient place for ambushes, and an uncomfortable place to run. Plus the dampness reduces the effectiveness of fire weapons, the most effective against all these creatures.


    Still, caution, discretion, and firepower make the difference.


    It turned out that the jungle did not cover the whole island. I found this out when the trees finally ended and a hilly area covered with a variety of grasses opened up in front of me. Melancholy, but beautiful - and it makes you look around carefully. Something makes me doubt that if a place on Pandora looks calm and peaceful, it really is.


    However, contrary to my wariness, I did not notice any threats. There was a small flock of rakks in the distance, but they were no real threat, and they didn''t attack unless they were close to their nests. There was a lot of grass, but it was low, so visibility was good and it was hard to hide.


    Oh, and I also discovered why the island is called that, it seems. On the highest hill in front (shallow against the smoking volcano in the center of the island, but still) lay - stood? - a large skull of an unknown beast, perhaps the same dragon that had been written about off the coast. I''d seen the skeletons of large creatures on Pandora more than once, but this was the largest. It was hard to estimate the size, but it was clearly visible even from this distance.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.    I also seemed to notice the cave mentioned in the pirate''s map in the hillside next to the skull.


    Looking around again, I headed toward it... And rolled on the ground when I was hit in the back.


    Some creature that looked like a crazy mix of a lizard and a bat, with a dash of scorpion, was clawing at me and trying to chew through my shield... with a beak? Where the hell did that thing come from?


    Despite the fall, I didn''t drop my shotgun, which was handy in the woods. Instead, I fired a volley of buckshot at the creature, point-blank - and the result was... not what I would have liked.


    Instead of being blown to pieces, or at least to die honestly from the excess of metal in its body, the creature just flew away, having time to hit me with its tail with a spike on the end. And the bullets, I mean buckshot... Crumbled to the ground, colliding with something transparent.


    "Ambush Stalker, threat level 12," the ECHO reported, and I found that it displayed not only a red health bar, but also a blue shield bar. Fuck.


    However, it immediately became clear that it wasn''t that bad: it was, expectedly, even worse. Falling to the floor, the "stalker" bounced sideways and backwards in a sharp movement, and - disappeared. His image rapidly blurred, becoming transparent, and in a second the landscape was once again a peaceful absence of any presence.


    With one hand I fired another shot to where the beast was, and with the other I triggered the turret''s digitalization. Fucking Pandora, fucking pirates, fucking stalkers, and the fuckin'' fact that I was right again... If these things are pack animals, it''s not a stalker, it''s a bull-shit.


    The beast came out of nowhere, but I had time to react to a sound, a low rustle. A gunshot... and from the other side another one immediately jumped. My shield held, however, and I slammed the butt of my gun down, knocking the second enemy away. The turret rumbled, trying to catch the thing that was jumping in a broken trajectory; the one I had butted was already gone, but the one that had caught the shotgun volley and lost its shield was still visible, so I joined the turret. A volley, another... reload. The first two shots barely grazed the stalker, but then I adjusted to its movements and caught a good hit. The beast twitched, disrupting the rhythm of its movements, and the turret finished its work. Well, not so "finished"... At least one more stalker was still around.


    I started to create another turret, but this time I didn''t have time: the process was interrupted by a new attack. However, my shield was still holding, the turret was still standing, and the effect of surprise was already exhausted, so this thing didn''t pose a serious problem.


    I plopped my ass down on the ground and reloaded my shotgun. I looked around suspiciously, and started building another turret. I need some way to detect stalkers...


    The stalkers left no traces, and even their scent - yes, the ECHO can be equipped with a scent-analyzer program - was almost nonexistent. Mordecai would be consulted, but the hunter still does not have an ECHO... Only option remained to look in the network. The main thing is to sift out unreliable information and outright nonsense.


    Well... There was not much useful information. Perhaps only three more or less useful pieces. First, their cloaking is due to the refraction of light by their biological shields; if the shield is knocked down, invisibility doesn''t work... until the shield recharges. Second, their invisibility is imperfect; if you look closely, you can see something like jets of hot air. Third, there are special goggles that allow them to be seen while cloaked. Unfortunately, they are no longer produced, Dahl used to make them for their fighters working in stalker zones, and the remaining glasses can only be bought for a lot of money. And that''s half the trouble, they also come only as an additional module to the Dahl armor.


    That''s a shame.


    I have an idea, though. The smell and the image are gone, but these things aren''t silent. Quiet, but not silent, both stalkers made a sort of low rustling noise. If recorded, it could be used as a sample for ECHO as a sign of threat. The AI should be able to handle picking out from the background sounds; it wouldn''t give a direction, except roughly, but it could sound an alarm. Even with false positives, it would be useful.


    All that''s left is to blindly capture a stalker and record the sound.


    An hour of time and a dozen stalkers later, I was convinced that the idea was working. It''s not perfect, but it works, and my crooked application - rather, just a script - even allows me to determine the direction.    Unfortunately, the sensing distance was still very small, but still it was much easier to deal with local animals, especially after calibrating and eliminating extraneous sounds.


    Carefully, from turret to turret, I made my way toward the cave.


    Hmm. That mossy rock at the entrance isn''t a rock, it''s a container.


    Indeed. Beneath the scraped moss was a typical Dahl container, with their symbol on it. Empty, unfortunately. But more interestingly, inside the cave I noticed a section of flat wall protruding from the stone, with a broken line on it. Eridian architecture.


    ...And an Eridian guardian.


    The constant wariness, because of the stalkers, made me jerk to the side and shoot before I realized I''d noticed any movement in the shadows of the cave''s yawn. The first ball of lightning passed within centimeters of me... the next one caught on.


    This guardian was flightless, whether by design or damage, and larger than the ones I''d encountered so far - or rather, taller. It was also much more rapid-firing. The previous ones had a pause of a second or two between shots, but this one was firing in bursts.


    Fortunately, his weapon was less powerful, and my current shield more so. Still, I was in a tight spot. Despite my maneuvers, I''d already been hit a couple of times, taking out more and more of my shield, and there was no cover nearby; my own return fire didn''t seem to bother the guardian, and the strip of his shield showed no cause for concern.


    ...Of course, I wasn''t going to get myself killed. And I still had some trump cards left. Namely, the shield.


    I mean, I had already killed one guardian using a physical shield. Now I had something better, Dahl''s officer trophy shield from that sweep of the outpost on Moxie''s tip.


    A man-sized plate of composites extracted from the digital vault appeared in my hand, and I lunged forward, covering myself with it and changing my grenade modifier. A series of ball lightning bolts splattered against the surface of the shield, but it held....


    ...or not quite. I noticed a dark spot appear on my side - immediately appearing in yet another spot with the guardian''s next shot. It''s holding up better than a force shield, but how long it''ll last is an open question.


    It''s good enough for me, though.


    ...Or not. The Guardian was already right in front of me, visible through the undamaged transparent window in the shield, and then it turned out that the Eridian construct had more than one weapon. The left "arm" ended in an electrified cannon - and on the right, there was an electric sword. The lightning blade with a blinding flash crashed into my shield and shattered it, severing a triangular piece with the upper right corner.


    No, I''m not going into hand-to-hand combat with one of those. What kind of sacrifices are not made in the name of victory... In this case, sacrifices like this.


    The guard''s limbs, and body, were as thin as matchsticks - well, almost - and he wasn''t easy to hit, but the shield surrounding him was a sphere of considerable size. Although I still have no idea what the nature of these shields are, the grenade with the "sticky" modifier didn''t care: the small sphere stuck to the surface of the large one. I fired a burst of Shock SG - the strip of shield shrank a little - and stepped aside, spinning around. Another chunk of shield, sliced off by the lightning blade, fell to the ground, and then there was a boom and a crackle.


    There was no explosion as such. Instead, the antimatter energy in the grenade, if it could even be called that, went to power a small analog of the Tesla Tower from the Red Alert game. The lightning bolts continuously struck everything around the little generator stuck to the shield of the Eridian guardian, including the shield itself; the energy would only last for two or three seconds, but it should be enough to fry even a really powerful shield.


    I hope so.


    ...almost enough.


    The Guardian kept firing at me, and I was half-blindly trying to fire back, as sections of my shield became more and more clearly charred until they began to crumble to ash and dust. When the crackling and rumbling of grenade lightning finally subsided, the guardian''s shield, or rather its ECHO scale, flickered at the edge.


    Then it began to recover.


    An insanely powerful shield, with insanely fast regeneration.


    ...And yet, I didn''t panic. Instead, I simply stepped to the side again.


    For the seconds that the grenade worked, I didn''t just take cover and shoot at random. I was also digitally building a turret behind me.


    A pause between the guardian''s bursts, and the turret and I opened fire together.


    The shield regeneration stopped before it could replenish the strip in any significant way, and then it just as quickly crept back to the left. A second, and the guardian''s shield finally disappeared.


    For a moment I was afraid that I was about to find out that the guardian also had armor, but no - without a shield he was fragile, and this specimen showed neither high mobility nor the ability to fly. His "skinniness" helped him avoid some of the bullets - but not all of them.


    The ''health'' streak had also dried up.


    "Level up!" - reported the ECHO.


    Ugh. I''ve need to select skill again. Ans also I think I need a drink, too.


    I''d be glad if this was the end of Skull Island adventure. Alas, no.


    No, luckily for me, there was no second guard in the cave. It was not very large at all, and if there were any eridian structures there, they were buried under the thickness of ordinary stone. However... Pandora never ceases to amaze: I found out that treasure can be frustrating.


    The cave was filled with containers of various valuables. Weapons, including a couple of "blue" guns, and even one "purple" one. Jewelry. Money in bills and in digital vaults. Even a case of condensed milk cans, an incredible rarity.


    Oddly enough, a pirate''s tricorn was also found here, among other things. But it was obvious that I''d been sent here to deal with the guards, and after that... I grabbed a telescope from the table (antique, I could sell it), left the cave, climbed to the top of the hill, and looked around.


    Of course. A black-flagged tub was sailing toward the island. Me should prepare for defense.


    I looked down at my feet, where there was a collection of good weapons.


    ...Idiots. Letting a Vladoff engineer into the weapons vault was like... well... doing something stupid.


    ...Now I have my own ship. Too bad it''s crewless. What am I supposed to do with it, anyway?


    Although...


    - ECHO, look through the sites where they deal with barter and exchange - I commanded. - The criteria are as follows...


    A few hours later, I was happy, as can be happy only a man, who finally got the desired gun. My happiness was not dampened by the realization that Pandora had gotten me with her madness, nor by the fact that the Thunderer machine gun was only an unlicensed copy of Vladoff''s Groza. Even the fact that I had to pay extra didn''t spoil my mood.


    I had condensed milk, I had a machine gun - what else do you need to be happy?

 Wrong genre, or Dont you want some special street magic?

    Height is up to my shoulder... in heels, or on tiptoes. Blue lines visible on the exposed parts of the neck and arm. Black dress with short sleeves and a short skirt, black boots with cuffs. A small teddy bear is attached to the left forearm. Red, slightly curly hair under a hat is pulled into two ponytails on the sides. Small chest. One eye is green, the other is blue.


    Character... Specific.


    - So, you say, ancient wisdom and the opportunity to have fun? - I inquired.


    - Exactly so - the girl nodded.


    My new acquaintance - unlike the gang of probable protagonists not causing a feeling of familiarity - introduced herself as Lily Rose Winegar Sugar Lupus-Gold, and the strangest thing is that this was her real name, judging by what ECHO found on the Echonet.


    Probably, she was an unwanted child. At least on one of the parents'' side.


    In any case, the Lupus-Gold family was both very famous and at the same time there was no information about them. Well, no personal details, to be precise, except for the pictures of Lily Rose herself, which was how I was able to verify her authenticity, and her parents: a tall lady in white, with a wide-brimmed - but flat - hat on her head, and her husband, short and round. Spike Thorn Pepper Spice Lupus-Gold in the picture was holding a scythe on her shoulder, and her husband - a huge garden shears; their daughter, who looked younger in this photo, was holding a SG. I''m not sure if it was the same one she was using now, or a different one.


    In any case, they are a very rich family, who own a personal planet.


    And their daughter came looking for adventures to her... places, to Pandora.


    Well, actually, she said that she was looking for "ancient magical wisdom of the Eridians, the key to unlocking my sleeping siren power! Well, and a chance to have some fun."


    Even a quick glance was enough to understand that her "siren tattoos" were ordinary "temporary tattoos", drawings on the skin that had nothing in common with a real siren. I saw them, I have the opportunity to compare. Lilith''s are always slightly glowing, and especially when she uses her abilities. And in general...


    In short, i have here a girl with cockroaches in her head. But you have to give her credit - she can stand up for herself, although she has a lot of room to grow.


    As for her broom... Antigrav. Whatever the owner says about the "magic artifact".


    - I can put a temporary patch on the damage - I said, having studied the said "artifact". - It will fly, but slowly and sadly, and it is better not to rise high. But it is better to take it to a normal specialized service.


    And then added, after thinking for a moment:


    - On a normal planet.


    - Oh, I see, you''re no stranger to the mysteries of magic! - the girl noted.


    - In a sense, - I chuckled, thinking about Lilith and AlBa. Hmm. If you think about it, I really am not stranger. Death, again... Damn, I really have a connection to all sorts of supernatural crap, unlike this "witch". - In any case... Don''t you think that has been enough of "pulling"?


    The girl glanced at her chest for some reason and blushed.


    - My quest has only just begun! - she declared.


    - I would recommend speaking more quietly, - I said, biting off a piece of cake the girl had given me for my coffee. Nice... When was the last time I ate dessert, if you don''t count condensed milk (and tangerines)?.. - If a couple more guards show up, we might not be able to handle it.


    Lily raised an interested eyebrow.


    - "Can we?" Want to join me on my adventure?


    I looked at her, seriously considering. I looked down at the cake.


    Hmm.


    - Technically, I''m a mercenary... - I muttered out loud. - But... first of all, didn''t your parents teach you how to properly hire staff?


    - Nope, - the girl responded. - That was supposed to be next week. I''ll catch up when I get back.


    She glanced at me, and apparently my expression told her something, because she immediately added:


    - But I can take a quick course online.


    I tried to massage my temples, but decided not to take off my helmet in a simulated combat situation. What a mixture of reasonable and absurd...


    I raised my hand and began bending my fingers.


    - It''s not that I''m fundamentally against it, but. First of all, what exactly is the purpose of hiring? And the timing. Secondly, what is the pay? Thirdly¡­


    I hesitated, but decided to continue.


    - Thirdly, you should first check who you want to hire.


    - The coffee was quite acceptable - the girl noted in a tone as if this was a weighty argument. - Plus an acceptable level of knowledge in charms.


    She nodded towards her broom.


    - Plus the spirits of the astral streams whispered something to me about your service record - she patted the ECHO on her belt. A neural interface, I suppose. And she is not as out of touch with life as she seems.


    Well, what can I say? It''s a deal. I help her get settled in on Pandora and with her "adventures", she pays for it all. The trophies are mine, except for the "magical" ones (it was a slippery slope, given that I was looking for an Eridian relic, and some artifacts might be useful to me, but she agreed that giving the shards to a specialist who could restore them was a good idea). I haven''t mentioned Lilith yet; I''ll talk to the siren herself first. Maybe she''d be curious to meet the impostor witch, maybe not, but that was up to her; given the siren hunt, it was best to be cautious.


    Perhaps the main question was ''should I try to contact her parents''. But after thinking about it, I decided it wasn''t worth it for now. With any luck, the girl would play on her own and come home, and I''d get my money.


    ...And the brownies. No, that wasn''t the deciding factor in my decision. How could I put a girl at risk for some mediocre brownie?


    ...However when there''s a lot of them, and they''re delicious....


    I raised my hand.


    - One last condition. In the event of your death, bequeath me your stash of brownies, - I said seriously.


    The girl stared into my eyes. It lasted for a couple of seconds, and then she nodded just as seriously.


    - I promise.


    It was as if she had an endless supply of grenades... Which she threw without hesitation and with obvious pleasure at any rustle. Well, if I had an endless supply of grenades, I''d be happy to throw them at anything too.


    Maybe even at home. You''re better off fighting off what''s found on Pandora instead of rats with grenades.


    - How did you get so much mana, my lady? - I asked. If I''m being paid, I might as well play along.


    - Mana reserves are of the utmost importance to any self-respecting witch, - she said. But then she honored me with a real explanation. - I have a direct channel to the Maliwan Tower of Magic.


    ...D-douche-bag. While the poor engineer has to scramble for one grenade and deny himself the essentials, like a new cannon. Well, not that I''d deny myself one, but it''s about principle.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.    I wonder if her mom wants a son-in-law.


    It can''t be said that such a freebie made this "adventure" easy, but - it made it a lot easier. In the corridors of the foothills, which were increasingly turning from stone mines into Eridian architecture - not even ruins, the buildings were well preserved - we met not only a couple more guards, smaller and weaker to my relief, but a small colony of spider ants that had drilled a passage from somewhere outside. My companion stopped now and then to study the Eridian architecture, which I took advantage of to set up turrets at convenient points. The bandits provided ample cannons for this purpose.


    - There hadn''t been any enemies for several minutes now, - I said quietly, frowning (not that it showed under my helmet). - Knowing Pandora...


    I shook my head silently.


    - Do you suppose we''re approaching the chambers of the lord of this dungeon? - The girl asked.


    - Something like that, - I agreed. - Probably.


    - It''s solvable, - she said, and took the teddy bear off her arm. The toy got to its feet and waddled forward. Hmm.


    - My familiar. He''ll scout ahead. - Lily explained, and for a second I regretted missing the opportunity to get a drone. It was still ahead of me, though, and the opportunity to pay Death off was worth it.


    I sighed.


    - My lady, these opportunities should have been announced in advance. It would have been so much easier.


    - It would have been too boring and predictable, - she said, and I frowned.


    - You shouldn''t underestimate Pandora. Despite the, uh, power of your... magic, and defenses, Pandora is a very insidious and deadly planet. If you allow youself to relax a little, then¡­


    - Grrr!


    - ...something like this could happen, - I said, firing at the bullywang in the breach of the wall. The carcass of an ant-spider slammed into the girl and knocked her down, but her shield held, and she fired a burst of SGs at the probably dead insect, while I had a bigger opponent.


    Like the Balrog, the massive forelegs of this beast were covered with a rocky crust from which the bullets bounced, so I used my pistol to aim at the more vulnerable areas, at the same time diverting the bullywang''s attention from my employer.


    ...And was immediately hit by a ricochet as the bullywang closed in on her.


    - Careful! Grenades! - I said. There''s no cover, I didn''t have time to set up a turret here...


    The beast charged forward on four paws, targeting me as the larger and more exposed enemy.


    Unfortunately, it was when he was in front of me...


    - Firestorm!


    *Fuck.


    I jumped backwards, simultaneously switching to my shotgun and firing at the bullywang''s feet. Luckily, the witch was smart enough to throw the grenade behind the target, rather than at it, so I wouldn''t be right in the center kill zone.


    It was a cluster grenade, though.


    I was hit by a wave of heat, and my shield''s stability rating immediately dropped to zero when the edge of one of the fiery clouds licked me practically right on top of it, burning the paint on my breastplate. I fell on my back, and the next thing I knew, a bullywang was flying out of the inferno, burned and scorched, but alive. He was right on top of me, and slammed his fist...


    ...right next to my head, leaving a pothole in the floor. The fire definitely blinded him, even if it didn''t burn his eyes out.


    I didn''t have a problem with my eyesight, though; the flash from the explosion was there, but I''d fixed the filters in my helmet, which I was glad I''d done, putting a shotgun volley into the bullywang''s head and rolling to the side under his paw.


    It was just in time: the hail of blows, though blind, would have turned me into mashed potatoes. Man, how resilient are the inhabitants of Pandora?


    I rose to my feet, took a split second to assess the beast with my gaze... but resisted the temptation.


    So instead of shoving the barrel up its ass, I just shot it in the head again.


    That was enough to empty his health bar.


    - Something like this, - I reported, turning my gaze to the girl.


    The rest of the way the girl was silent and thoughtful, limiting herself to informing me that there was a large hall with three elemental guardians ahead.


    There''s supposed to be a description of an epic battle, possibly involving an prevailing over odds. Fortunately, there was no such thing: despite my misgivings, each of the trio was no stronger than the ones guarding the entrance to this complex, and a bunch of turrets plus endless grenades solves that. Not that it was entirely easy, but now the girl was obeying my suggestions, and... well, well, we got through it.


    "Golem summoning" helped a lot. A little robot bear can, it turns out, become a maturing robot grizzly with claws capable of tearing armor.


    Truly advanced technology as good as magic...


    Anyway, we cleared the last room of the ruins, a rounded hall in the standard Eridian style, with broken glowing lines on the walls. And found a couple of containers near the walls - or rather, it was my companion who pointed out that they were containers, and she also managed to open them. I myself thought they were just some protrusions in the floor, perhaps benches.


    But I - well, my ECHO - noticed something else.


    "Eridian relic. Fragment of ????"


    A second shard of an unknown artifact lay orphaned in a niche against the far wall, and I hurried to get my hands on it. Not sneaking it away from Lily Rose, just the sooner I got it done, the better.


    I''m tired of Pandora, frankly. And it''s not affecting me in the best way. I''m gonna have to get that armor plaque refurbished again.


    When I approached the girl with the shard in my hands, she was pensively studying the contents of the containers. A couple of wiener-sized crystals, pink and gold; four different "relics" (elemental protection, body enhancement, kinetic acceleration, agility), and two guns. These looked less artisanally crafted than the Eridian gun I sent to the Vladoff, but the ECHO rated them at just a green level. (Average damage, low rate of fire, low energy reserve, as it specified).


    - I can''t feel magic, - the girl said sadly, and sighed. - Perhaps it was all for nothing.


    - Maybe you should go home, - I suggested.


    - I''ll probably do that. I can''t seem to find any magic here...


    That bullywang seems to have had a sobering effect on her... Well, I suppose it''s for the best.


    It''s a shame about the brownies, though.


    - Do you need any of these? - I asked. The girl hesitated, but took the golden crystal, one gun, and one relic (the one with protection).


    - Well, if that''s all, we can go back - I said, putting the non-digitized fragment of the artifact in my belt pouch.


    "Mission accomplished! Level up!"


    This time, the level up was more spectacular than usual. Not only did my injuries and burns disappear, but even my armor was restored - and I even glowed slightly, enveloped by a beam of light that fell from nowhere.


    The girl''s eyes shone only figuratively, but her smile was radiant... insanely radiant.


    - I knew it!!! I knew magic was real!


    ...AlBa, you bastard.

 Its Magic!

    Height is up to my shoulder... in heels, or on tiptoes. Blue lines visible on the exposed parts of the neck and arm. Black dress with short sleeves and a short skirt, black boots with cuffs. A small teddy bear is attached to the left forearm. Red, slightly curly hair under a hat is pulled into two ponytails on the sides. Small chest. One eye is green, the other is blue.


    Character... Specific.


    - So, you say, ancient wisdom and the opportunity to have fun? - I inquired.


    - Exactly so - the girl nodded.


    My new acquaintance - unlike the gang of probable protagonists not causing a feeling of familiarity - introduced herself as Lily Rose Winegar Sugar Lupus-Gold, and the strangest thing is that this was her real name, judging by what ECHO found on the Echonet.


    Probably, she was an unwanted child. At least on one of the parents'' side.


    In any case, the Lupus-Gold family was both very famous and at the same time there was no information about them. Well, no personal details, to be precise, except for the pictures of Lily Rose herself, which was how I was able to verify her authenticity, and her parents: a tall lady in white, with a wide-brimmed - but flat - hat on her head, and her husband, short and round. Spike Thorn Pepper Spice Lupus-Gold in the picture was holding a scythe on her shoulder, and her husband - a huge garden shears; their daughter, who looked younger in this photo, was holding a SG. I''m not sure if it was the same one she was using now, or a different one.


    In any case, they are a very rich family, who own a personal planet.


    And their daughter came looking for adventures to her... places, to Pandora.


    Well, actually, she said that she was looking for "ancient magical wisdom of the Eridians, the key to unlocking my sleeping siren power! Well, and a chance to have some fun."


    Even a quick glance was enough to understand that her "siren tattoos" were ordinary "temporary tattoos", drawings on the skin that had nothing in common with a real siren. I saw them, I have the opportunity to compare. Lilith''s are always slightly glowing, and especially when she uses her abilities. And in general...


    In short, i have here a girl with cockroaches in her head. But you have to give her credit - she can stand up for herself, although she has a lot of room to grow.


    As for her broom... Antigrav. Whatever the owner says about the "magic artifact".


    - I can put a temporary patch on the damage - I said, having studied the said "artifact". - It will fly, but slowly and sadly, and it is better not to rise high. But it is better to take it to a normal specialized service.


    And then added, after thinking for a moment:


    - On a normal planet.


    - Oh, I see, you''re no stranger to the mysteries of magic! - the girl noted.


    - In a sense, - I chuckled, thinking about Lilith and AlBa. Hmm. If you think about it, I really am not stranger. Death, again... Damn, I really have a connection to all sorts of supernatural crap, unlike this "witch". - In any case... Don''t you think that has been enough of "pulling"?


    The girl glanced at her chest for some reason and blushed.


    - My quest has only just begun! - she declared.


    - I would recommend speaking more quietly, - I said, biting off a piece of cake the girl had given me for my coffee. Nice... When was the last time I ate dessert, if you don''t count condensed milk (and tangerines)?.. - If a couple more guards show up, we might not be able to handle it.


    Lily raised an interested eyebrow.


    - "Can we?" Want to join me on my adventure?


    I looked at her, seriously considering. I looked down at the cake.


    Hmm.


    - Technically, I''m a mercenary... - I muttered out loud. - But... first of all, didn''t your parents teach you how to properly hire staff?


    - Nope, - the girl responded. - That was supposed to be next week. I''ll catch up when I get back.


    She glanced at me, and apparently my expression told her something, because she immediately added:


    - But I can take a quick course online.


    I tried to massage my temples, but decided not to take off my helmet in a simulated combat situation. What a mixture of reasonable and absurd...


    I raised my hand and began bending my fingers.


    - It''s not that I''m fundamentally against it, but. First of all, what exactly is the purpose of hiring? And the timing. Secondly, what is the pay? Thirdly¡­


    I hesitated, but decided to continue.


    - Thirdly, you should first check who you want to hire.


    - The coffee was quite acceptable - the girl noted in a tone as if this was a weighty argument. - Plus an acceptable level of knowledge in charms.


    She nodded towards her broom.


    - Plus the spirits of the astral streams whispered something to me about your service record - she patted the ECHO on her belt. A neural interface, I suppose. And she is not as out of touch with life as she seems.


    Well, what can I say? It''s a deal. I help her get settled in on Pandora and with her "adventures", she pays for it all. The trophies are mine, except for the "magical" ones (it was a slippery slope, given that I was looking for an Eridian relic, and some artifacts might be useful to me, but she agreed that giving the shards to a specialist who could restore them was a good idea). I haven''t mentioned Lilith yet; I''ll talk to the siren herself first. Maybe she''d be curious to meet the impostor witch, maybe not, but that was up to her; given the siren hunt, it was best to be cautious.


    Perhaps the main question was ''should I try to contact her parents''. But after thinking about it, I decided it wasn''t worth it for now. With any luck, the girl would play on her own and come home, and I''d get my money.


    ...And the brownies. No, that wasn''t the deciding factor in my decision. How could I put a girl at risk for some mediocre brownie?


    ...However when there''s a lot of them, and they''re delicious....


    I raised my hand.


    - One last condition. In the event of your death, bequeath me your stash of brownies, - I said seriously.


    The girl stared into my eyes. It lasted for a couple of seconds, and then she nodded just as seriously.


    - I promise.


    It was as if she had an endless supply of grenades... Which she threw without hesitation and with obvious pleasure at any rustle. Well, if I had an endless supply of grenades, I''d be happy to throw them at anything too.


    Maybe even at home. You''re better off fighting off what''s found on Pandora instead of rats with grenades.


    - How did you get so much mana, my lady? - I asked. If I''m being paid, I might as well play along.


    - Mana reserves are of the utmost importance to any self-respecting witch, - she said. But then she honored me with a real explanation. - I have a direct channel to the Maliwan Tower of Magic.


    ...D-douche-bag. While the poor engineer has to scramble for one grenade and deny himself the essentials, like a new cannon. Well, not that I''d deny myself one, but it''s about principle.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.I wonder if her mom wants a son-in-law.


    It can''t be said that such a freebie made this "adventure" easy, but - it made it a lot easier. In the corridors of the foothills, which were increasingly turning from stone mines into Eridian architecture - not even ruins, the buildings were well preserved - we met not only a couple more guards, smaller and weaker to my relief, but a small colony of spider ants that had drilled a passage from somewhere outside. My companion stopped now and then to study the Eridian architecture, which I took advantage of to set up turrets at convenient points. The bandits provided ample cannons for this purpose.


    - There hadn''t been any enemies for several minutes now, - I said quietly, frowning (not that it showed under my helmet). - Knowing Pandora...


    I shook my head silently.


    - Do you suppose we''re approaching the chambers of the lord of this dungeon? - The girl asked.


    - Something like that, - I agreed. - Probably.


    - It''s solvable, - she said, and took the teddy bear off her arm. The toy got to its feet and waddled forward. Hmm.


    - My familiar. He''ll scout ahead. - Lily explained, and for a second I regretted missing the opportunity to get a drone. It was still ahead of me, though, and the opportunity to pay Death off was worth it.


    I sighed.


    - My lady, these opportunities should have been announced in advance. It would have been so much easier.


    - It would have been too boring and predictable, - she said, and I frowned.


    - You shouldn''t underestimate Pandora. Despite the, uh, power of your... magic, and defenses, Pandora is a very insidious and deadly planet. If you allow youself to relax a little, then¡­


    - Grrr!


    - ...something like this could happen, - I said, firing at the bullywang in the breach of the wall. The carcass of an ant-spider slammed into the girl and knocked her down, but her shield held, and she fired a burst of SGs at the probably dead insect, while I had a bigger opponent.


    Like the Balrog, the massive forelegs of this beast were covered with a rocky crust from which the bullets bounced, so I used my pistol to aim at the more vulnerable areas, at the same time diverting the bullywang''s attention from my employer.


    ...And was immediately hit by a ricochet as the bullywang closed in on her.


    - Careful! Grenades! - I said. There''s no cover, I didn''t have time to set up a turret here...


    The beast charged forward on four paws, targeting me as the larger and more exposed enemy.


    Unfortunately, it was when he was in front of me...


    - Firestorm!


    *Fuck.


    I jumped backwards, simultaneously switching to my shotgun and firing at the bullywang''s feet. Luckily, the witch was smart enough to throw the grenade behind the target, rather than at it, so I wouldn''t be right in the center kill zone.


    It was a cluster grenade, though.


    I was hit by a wave of heat, and my shield''s stability rating immediately dropped to zero when the edge of one of the fiery clouds licked me practically right on top of it, burning the paint on my breastplate. I fell on my back, and the next thing I knew, a bullywang was flying out of the inferno, burned and scorched, but alive. He was right on top of me, and slammed his fist...


    ...right next to my head, leaving a pothole in the floor. The fire definitely blinded him, even if it didn''t burn his eyes out.


    I didn''t have a problem with my eyesight, though; the flash from the explosion was there, but I''d fixed the filters in my helmet, which I was glad I''d done, putting a shotgun volley into the bullywang''s head and rolling to the side under his paw.


    It was just in time: the hail of blows, though blind, would have turned me into mashed potatoes. Man, how resilient are the inhabitants of Pandora?


    I rose to my feet, took a split second to assess the beast with my gaze... but resisted the temptation.


    So instead of shoving the barrel up its ass, I just shot it in the head again.


    That was enough to empty his health bar.


    - Something like this, - I reported, turning my gaze to the girl.


    The rest of the way the girl was silent and thoughtful, limiting herself to informing me that there was a large hall with three elemental guardians ahead.


    There''s supposed to be a description of an epic battle, possibly involving an prevailing over odds. Fortunately, there was no such thing: despite my misgivings, each of the trio was no stronger than the ones guarding the entrance to this complex, and a bunch of turrets plus endless grenades solves that. Not that it was entirely easy, but now the girl was obeying my suggestions, and... well, well, we got through it.


    "Golem summoning" helped a lot. A little robot bear can, it turns out, become a maturing robot grizzly with claws capable of tearing armor.


    Truly advanced technology as good as magic...


    Anyway, we cleared the last room of the ruins, a rounded hall in the standard Eridian style, with broken glowing lines on the walls. And found a couple of containers near the walls - or rather, it was my companion who pointed out that they were containers, and she also managed to open them. I myself thought they were just some protrusions in the floor, perhaps benches.


    But I - well, my ECHO - noticed something else.


    "Eridian relic. Fragment of ????"


    A second shard of an unknown artifact lay orphaned in a niche against the far wall, and I hurried to get my hands on it. Not sneaking it away from Lily Rose, just the sooner I got it done, the better.


    I''m tired of Pandora, frankly. And it''s not affecting me in the best way. I''m gonna have to get that armor plaque refurbished again.


    When I approached the girl with the shard in my hands, she was pensively studying the contents of the containers. A couple of wiener-sized crystals, pink and gold; four different "relics" (elemental protection, body enhancement, kinetic acceleration, agility), and two guns. These looked less artisanally crafted than the Eridian gun I sent to the Vladoff, but the ECHO rated them at just a green level. (Average damage, low rate of fire, low energy reserve, as it specified).


    - I can''t feel magic, - the girl said sadly, and sighed. - Perhaps it was all for nothing.


    - Maybe you should go home, - I suggested.


    - I''ll probably do that. I can''t seem to find any magic here...


    That bullywang seems to have had a sobering effect on her... Well, I suppose it''s for the best.


    It''s a shame about the brownies, though.


    - Do you need any of these? - I asked. The girl hesitated, but took the golden crystal, one gun, and one relic (the one with protection).


    - Well, if that''s all, we can go back - I said, putting the non-digitized fragment of the artifact in my belt pouch.


    "Mission accomplished! Level up!"


    This time, the level up was more spectacular than usual. Not only did my injuries and burns disappear, but even my armor was restored - and I even glowed slightly, enveloped by a beam of light that fell from nowhere.


    The girl''s eyes shone only figuratively, but her smile was radiant... insanely radiant.


    - I knew it!!! I knew magic was real!


    ...AlBa, you bastard.

 A respite on shaky ground.

    At least Tannis was satisfied.


    As for me...


    - So now you have to get the third part of the artifact? - The girl inquired. I sighed and nodded.


    Unlike one poor - at least for now - engineer, Lily Rose was obscenely rich. And that''s me talking about her personal money now, not her family''s money. She herself owned at least one successful company, plus family shares, plus stocks... in short, a true class enemy.


    Lucky for her, she was still my employer.


    She''d been quite active in the last couple days, exploiting me. To build a house in Yellowrock, not a standard Pandorian shack, but a decent building with a lot of turrets. Talking to important people, from Tannis, who I''d given a research grant to, to Kincaid, with whom I''d made a deal. She even reached out to Lilith on her own (the latter I warned in advance, but they did the rest on their own).


    The strangest part, however, was that the young businesswoman, despite all her quirks and personal interest, was still just that, a businesswoman. The house built with the help of a large digital construction machine in the spaceship (built around the spaceship, in fact) was also a local branch of Lily Rose''s personal firm.


    ...It''s absurd, but Pandorian bandits were enthusiastically buying up designer plush toys. And I''d understand if they were robots like the one the girl was carrying on her shoulder, but no...


    That''s how the poor get poorer and the rich get reacher. I mean richer.


    Anyway, I didn''t fail to take the opportunity to borrow LR''s digital-building machine, because it''s expensive to pay Moxie to rent a room, and it''s uncomfortable to live in a standard shack built out of improvised materials. I''m already forced to live on Pandora, I''d like to be in normal conditions at least once in a while... Even if with my current body I can sleep on ice with a snowdrift under my helmet.


    Designer of me, of course... paramilitary, but on the network you can find ready-made, and even free, samples. So thanks to my employer I became the proud owner of a small but cozy house. Which will still need to be equipped, but the basic necessities were already available: electricity from the buggy reactor, as a sewerage - digitization module, water supply - similarly. Gas could be made if desired, but electricity was enough.


    It was surprisingly comfortable. And you do not have to pay for land - at least something good in Pandora. A cozy house for one person, plus an outdoor box for the robot....


    Now, however, this house has been invaded by a woman.


    - Yup. Tannis pointed out a few possibilities where the third fragment could be, I''ll study it gradually, - I told the girl on my bed. I''ll have to make a chair, or at least a chair... - But it''s not in a hurry, I still have things to do. And the prisoners are not fed. Business first, after all.


    - You have to take care of the pets - agreed the girl. - But I''ll make up for the business downtime.


    I knew she would say that... but for some reason it doesn''t make me very happy.


    - The Eridian relics have waited centuries, they can wait a little longer, - I pointed out. - And you should get familiar with Pandorian specifics first. Practice. On the skags.


    The girl looked at me with some suspicion.


    - I get the strange impression you''re trying to get rid of me.


    I made big eyes.


    - Come on! This is Pandora, here if you want to get away, you just shoot. Like I said, if you''re gonna be here for a while, you need to get the hang of it. Especially if you want to do business here, it''ll come in handy.


    Despite the obvious doubt in her gaze, she nodded, then changed the subject.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!    - I noticed a booth in the yard. Another pet?


    I sighed.


    - Believe me, you''re better off not knowing. Some secrets are better left unsolved...


    - I live to uncover secrets! - she proclaimed, then grabbed my arm with ungirlish strength and dragged me outside.


    - ...I warned you - I announced, and kicked the booth.


    - Woof? - said the robot. The door opened, and he rolled out. - Am I pronouncing that right, boss?


    His eyepiece turned toward LR.


    - And this is your... - Claptrap started to say, but I stopped him firmly and emphatically.


    - No.


    - Oh, so it''s not your employer, it''s your girlfriend, boss? You got a thing for young girls? - he asked, and I couldn''t help but facepalm. Well, I got caught up in that one, I admit...


    - Well, I''m not that kind of girlfriend - the girl said, eyeing the robot curiously.


    - Classic "I''m not!" - remarked the robot sagely. In my head at this time struggled opposite aspirations. On the one hand, I could try to sell Claptrap to this rich girl while she was curious. On the other hand - she hadn''t done anything bad to me yet...


    The realization that the fucking robot has some plot relevance won out.


    - It''s Claptrap - I said with a sigh. - The model name, the name, and the gist. For some reason I have to put up with him.


    - I think the boss wants to set the record straight - Claptrap shared his version with the girl. - I''ve never stayed with anyone for more than a couple months.


    ...Hmm. And this application could be submitted to the Club of the Badasses.


    - By the way, aren''t you interested in a gorgeous, good-looking, heroically valiant robot? You could put a flowerpot on me, too.


    The girl looked at me questioningly.


    - No, he''s not always like that - with a sigh I answered the unspoken question. - Usually it''s worse.


    She nodded, looked at the robot and the booth again - this time with disappointment - and turned back to me.


    - I assumed it was something to do with your mystical witchcraft powers - she admitted.


    - I don''t have any - I replied dryly. - Just because I''ve had a close encounter with Death doesn''t mean anything.


    - The boss is a real wizard - the robot said proudly.


    - Claptrap!.. - I growled. I stopped immediately, realizing how that would sound, but it was too late.


    - Uh, I mean, in his business - the robot corrected hastily. Just when it was backfiring because it sounded like a lame excuse. - Yeah, that''s what I mean. Coffee makers. Yes.


    - I knew that - the girl nodded satisfactorily, and I did another facepalm and rubbed my temples.


    ...Okay. It could have been worse.


    ...The important thing is not to say it out loud.


    - Sell the secret of your magic - suggested the girl. - I could pay you well.


    - I would if I had it - I sighed wistfully. I suppose she could be charged a lot of money...


    - I see - Lily Rose nodded, and I looked at her suspiciously. What''s the catch? - It''s a test. I have to observe and learn.


    ¡­Facepalm.


    The immediate and most unpleasant consequence of this little... incident, was the appearance of micro-cameras in my house. Most of it''s in the restroom for some reason. No, it''s certainly a "meditation chamber", but a bit of the wrong one...


    After third sweep - and conversations with LR about "observe and learn" obvious do not include this - the bugs were finally gone, but I strongly suspected that I just couldn''t find them: it was harder each time.


    And the girl''s house now also clearly had some kind of equipment aimed at my abode.


    Well, what can I say? It''s my life. I''m used to the rest, I''ll get used to this.


    ...But AlBa''s is still bastard.

 Expected resolution.

    - Have you heard the news? - Mordecai asked. The hunter seemed to have made a good profit, and after selling his loot was drinking in Moxie''s bar with enthusiasm. However, no matter how drunk he was, he was always able to shoot without missing - as he said, "I shoot more accurately when I''m drunk". And he''s getting more talkative. - The gangs of Crooked Hand Mac and Dean-and-dot have broken their neutrality, and a war is brewing.


    - Dean is the one who thinks that Maliwan''s guns work due to devil possession? - I clarified. Mordecai nodded. - Huh. I thought it was peaceful. Do you know the details?


    Mordecai shrugged, taking a drink from the bottle in his hand.


    - I think Crooked Hand Mac stole something from him. Well, that''s what one of Dean''s boys said.


    - Mordy, darling, I''m glad you''re supporting my business, but don''t you think you''ve had enough for one day? - Moxie asked. - Look at Bloodwing.


    The hunter glanced at his pet, which had settled on the table and jerked away when Mordecai breathed in his direction. The pseudo-bird hissed and took cover with a wing.


    - Uh... Sorry, buddy, - the man said. He turned back to Moxie. - I guess you''re right. I''ll go.


    The hunter staggered out of the bar; wing followed.


    Shots rang out, followed by Mordecai''s shout.


    - Moxie, here''s some guns for you as a tip!


    Bloodwing flew back into the room, plopped a couple of guns on the counter in front of the hostess, and flew back out.


    - How nice - said Moxie.


    - They match the color of your eyes - I chuckled.


    She nodded.


    - Magister! We have work to do!


    Lily Rose had been calling me Magister lately. At least it wasn''t Sensei.


    I sighed and sat down at the table that had grown in front of my house. Having her around had its perks, like those cakes and tea. Coffee''s good, but I''d like some variety.


    ...I''ll put up with rich people when I can use them.


    - What kind of work? - I asked.


    - Hostage rescue, in general terms - said the girl. - Here.


    Her ECHO projected a hologram. A man without any vegetation on visible parts of his body, with several scars on his face and head in general, looking "at the camera".


    - Mrs. Lupus-Gold - he said in a surprisingly polite and cultured tone. - I wish to address you on an important confidential matter, and I dare to hope for your understanding and cooperation. While His Highness Prince Teddy was visiting me, an unfortunate incident occurred. The brazen rascals of Crooked Hand Mac launched an unprovoked attack, violating the truce between our domains, and kidnapped His Highness. I hope that you will help us in the safe return of His Highness. Of course, all costs will be compensated, and material gratitude will be appropriate.


    Huh. This was a type I knew, as well as many other significant figures of Pandora. A Dean-and-dot that Mordecai had only mentioned; one of the sane bandit leaders, essentially a bandit baron who controlled a certain territory and kept order in it. So that''s what the war with his rival is about. But, "prince"? Really? Since when did Pandora become a field of high diplomacy...?


    Although, maybe Lily Rose''s appearance has triggered something. After all, her family is rich and influential enough. Hmm.


    - Rescuing hostages is a difficult task, and I''m not sure it''s my area of expertise - I remarked. - Even if it''s just a matter of playing the role of a bodyguard at the negotiations... I can arrange a place, though.


    - We''ll manage together - assured the girl.


    I can''t help but admit: we work really well together, me and her money. A CRETIN turret with a good gun and just a CRETIN turret are two big differences, you know. Big, large-caliber differences.


    Judging by the fact that all the guns provided were from Maliwan, Lily Rose either has stock in the corporation, or she just loves that company''s products. I''d bet on both together - they''re elemental weapons, after all.


    In any case, I equipped the negotiation site with two dozen turrets, both overt and covert, with various elemental guns.


    Then I thought about it, and added another dozen.


    And a minefield.


    And a few raised shelters.


    And a camouflaged bunker.


    - Magister, are you going to build a castle here? - The girl asked. I shuddered and turned off the digital projector. Yes, I guess I got a little carried away... Though one should never underestimate one''s safety issues. - I have a couple designs that could be used.


    - ...Perhaps some other time - I replied. - I''ll still need a proper construction projector, not an ECHO.


    Still, Lily Rose''s contribution to the design was... and there was no way I could make up my mind how I felt about it. Not only did she paint my turrets, but she also put "skins" on them, making... hell, it was starting to look almost like some sort of amusement park. Designed to kill visitors, but still.


    A couple of turrets equipped with fire cannons turned into, uh, dragons...? Western ones with wings and horns. A shocker turned into an Asian dragon, another fire cannon turned into a dog standing on its hind legs. And so on and so forth.


    I had to make some adjustments so the skins didn''t interfere with the movements, but - the client pays, so any whim is her money.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.    ...I''ll send the video over to the Badasses Club later.


    Crooked arrived in several trucks, with a couple dozen of his men. Mostly regular (gangster) looking, just two midgets, and one brute, big and muscular, but still within the range of what you''d find on Earth under normal circumstances.


    Here was the boss himself...


    No, Crooked Arm was also large within the norm, seemingly even just under two meters. However, his left arm was grotesquely large, a mutation that I had encountered a couple times before, though in those cases the arm was right-handed. Plus unlike previous instances, the bandit''s second arm was not shrunken, but quite normal.


    Despite the as-yet-diplomatic encounter, the bandits were all armed - obviously. On this goddamn planet, even people go to visit well armed... hell, even to the restroom. And despite the fact that I''d specially prepared the conference table so that it could be instantly toppled and covered or thrown at my opponents, the presence of an armed mob of bandits nearby was unnerving.


    A natural human reaction. No one likes guns waving around.


    "Well, almost nobody," I corrected myself, remembering Brick.


    I kept my eyes on the bandits, but I turned my attention to Lily Rose. The girl, who had seemed generally polite and civil these days, despite her antics, was now... I''d say, radiating self-confidence.


    - You''ve been a bad boy, Donnie Mac - she said, putting her foot behind her leg. - Why did you kidnap his highness Teddy? It wasn''t good.


    - He''ll be better off in my place - the big man muttered. Uh, is it just me, or does his voice sound a little guilty? The girl tsked.


    - You didn''t behave well, Donnie - she said. - You broke the contract.


    I frowned. Definitely, I''m missing something... She talks to him like they know each other well. And the "contract" part is the peace treaty with Dean...?


    - That deserves to be punished. You don''t want to be punished, do you, Donnie?


    The man shook his head like he was hypnotized. Shit. You''d have to believe in witchcraft or some kind of psychic emitter. Official spokesmen and scientists online deny their existence so vehemently that you have to wonder...


    - In that case, just bring His Highness back...


    The bandit twitched and suddenly pounded his fist on the table, nearly knocking it over.


    - NO!!! Tell Dean that he missed his opportunity and now His Highness is in my hands!


    One of the thugs leaned over to the seated boss''s ear and spoke... in a normal voice, so it was perfectly audible.


    - Hey, boss, she''s from a rich family, right? She should be well paid for.


    - Oh, here we are at the key point of the negotiations - I murmured contentedly. It was quiet, but the bandit leader heard me.


    - Which one? - He asked.


    - The one where we''re trying to kill each other - I explained.


    - Oh - said Crooked Hand. He glanced between the girl and me, nodded appreciatively.


    Then he opened fire.


    I can''t say that the fight was easy. Crooked Hand''s guys - and especially him - were tough assholes, some of them had shields, and they left a couple of men at the turrets of their vehicles (there are vehicles without turrets on Pandora, but I didn''t see them much).


    Still, we had the edge in turrets. As well as grenades.


    The grenades given by the Firestorm modifier (orange, from Maliwan) looked like toys, little pumpkins with lights in their carved eyes and mouths, classic Halloween decorations. However, they were not toys at all: just a few grenades not only did not seem to halve the number of enemies, but in addition the fire clouds prevented them from aiming accurate fire. We - mainly me and the turrets - had it easier: there were more bandits, and my smart visor helped.


    However, my small army of turrets played the main role. My clever girls first concentrated fire on the nearest enemies on this side of the wall of fire, including Crooked Hand, and then began to shoot at the rest through the scattering flames. Actually, I only supported them a little, focusing on defense. Picking up the girl, and trying to ignore the unnerving laughter with which she was emptying the cartridge blocks of her SGs with both hands, I dragged her to cover.


    Her bear, by the way, did his part, including wrecking two cars before he was shot down. Lily didn''t worry about the latter, though, just kept firing.


    ...and all of a sudden it appeared that--


    - Are the bandits gone?


    I looked up from my hiding place and nodded.


    - All of them? - The girl asked.


    - Well, in the immediate neighborhood - I said. And, noticing the disappointment in her eyes, I clarified. - But there are plenty of them on Pandora, enough for our share. The question is: what about the hostage? Where to look for him?


    - The hostage? - The girl asked again. There was a look of understanding in her eyes. - Oh. Well, I think Donny took him with him. Wouldn''t let him out of his sight for long, from what I could tell.


    I frowned and glanced at the cars the bandits had arrived in. Two that had fallen victim to the robot bear - back to its usual small size - had been turned into scrap metal, another was smoking quietly, probably hit by Maliwan''s "magic," and the last one was lying upside down. That''s where Lily headed.


    - There, just as I said - she said, leaning out of the cabin.


    ...§°. Of course. What else could one expect from this absurd planet with its insane inhabitants.


    The girl was holding a teddy bear with a golden crown.

 The pace is picking up.

    My recent adventures - both sidequests, I suppose it would be quite accurate to call them that, and progression on the "main quest" - have given me two levels, and two skill points. And if the first I invested quickly enough, and without much thought, reaching "Basic Military Training" to the maximum, the second again made me rack my brains. The problem is that the list of available choices has expanded: after investing five points in a skill branch, the next tier with its own set of skills was opened. Specifically, in the Life Support branch, these were "Thorough Search," "Hoarding," and "Keep Your Fingers Out!". The first promised additional trophies, the second - expansion of inventory (probably AlBa will send additional memory modules for ECHO?...), the third... hmm, the third after the skirmishes with the Eridian guards looked quite tempting, because it increased resistance to shock damage. Against this background, the skills from the Construct branch looked... peculiar. Only two, "You to me, I to you" and "What do we have inside?". The first one would have been extremely valuable some time ago, before I got a fabricator: it was the same skill that was so tempting in the time when I counted every cartridge, allowing me to secretly get them from Vladoff''s warehouses through the turret. Now... Now it paled greatly against the competition.


    The second skill, given the presence of Lily Rose, should definitely not have been taken. All the matter is that judging by the description it was outright magic, in the style of the general absurdity of Pandora. No, description of the skill, for a change, mentioned a certain effect of "information chaos", and gave a link to a description of it in the network, but I understand that this is just a manifestation of the game feature in a more or less real world, and probably a manifestation of the sense of humor of my deity-"patron"...


    Anyway, when destroying my turrets, there was a chance that any equipment that might have been installed in them could be recovered from the wreckage.


    The key word is "any", not "installed".


    Simply put, you could extract from a wrecked turret, say, a shotgun instead of an installed pistol. Or a pistol, but of a different model and manufacturer.


    One can imagine what the girl''s reaction to that would be if she noticed.


    ...On the other hand, I still don''t have much faith that she''ll be persuaded anyway... Hmm.


    ...Hmm. Bloodwing definitely has a similar ability.


    In the end, I still opted for a skill from the "Deconstruction" branch, namely "Shieldlessness".


    Guardians really stress me out.


    - Shield, power shield, I mean, is specific shit. They''re not really isotropic as they seem, but it''s not so easy to notice and use vulnerabilities without special devices, and if we''re going to do it, we''ll do it only with those who will live to see it. For now, let''s learn the simplest ways to effectively fight against shields and their users, which, hopefully, can be mastered even by such dumbasses as those who decided to go to engineering and infantry troops instead of, say, mechanic-drivers. For starters, perpendicular shots are more effective than oblique glancing shots....


    ...Wow. There was almost no absurdity in that memory, just useful knowledge, including the ability to play dead... uh, why it was here?..


    Well, in any case, I''ve become a little more experienced and effective in combat. A small step for an engineer, a significant step for a hitman, somehow. With that, my opponents'' chances of survival decrease, and vice versa.


    After Lily Rose had demonstrated that she was capable of causing a war and then successfully preventing it, she could be considered a full-fledged Pandorian - at least, if I had the authority to give out that title, I wouldn''t spare it.


    ...Hmm. It''s worth pitching the idea of this title to the Club of the Badasses.


    In any case, the girl had enough badassery and fighting ability that she didn''t really need my supervision. I wondered, by the way?, why did a girl from a rich - VERY rich - family suddenly master fighting so well? I didn''t bother asking, though - I didn''t need to get closer. Marriage would not work anyway... and I have certain doubts that it would be worth it, even if. After all, I''m not going to stay in this universe, am I? I''m not, am I?


    - Mom did most of it herself, through running a business and taking down the competition - the girl was a little shaky from the drink, so her bear had to support her, but her speech was still clear. - So that''s what she taught me. But I think it''s boring, I want to live with fire.


    She waved her fire SG, and fired a short burst into the ceiling.


    - I want something... magical. I don''t know, rain of fire and sulfur, demonic legions... though no, they can''t compare to our lawyers anyway. A moon made of cheese... nah, been there. Well, at least seduce a vampire and knock his fangs out for harassment. Romance...


    The girl waved her second SG, and the robot bear carefully, despite its large clawed paws, took the weapon from her mistress''s hands before she trashed anything else.


    - Usually, in terms of "magical" and "romantic," girls talk about a prince on a white horse - I remarked. Lily Rose cringed.


    - On a diamond pony - she snorted. - I can''t stand aristocrats. Nasty, smug, puffed-up, arrogant....


    The girl thought for a moment, and started counting on her fingers.


    - ...well, to hell with them - Lily finished after about five seconds. - They shouldn''t even be processed into biomass. And Aurelia Hammerlock first of all. That asshole stole the artifact right out from under my nose! If you see her, shoot her, make the girl feel good.


    She''s thinking about it.


    - Hmm. About pleasing... How about doing something naughty?


    I raised an eyebrow.


    - I suggest we get back to this conversation in the morning, when you''re sober.


    - Nah - Lily shook her head. - The most satisfying ideas come to me when I''m drunk, and I wouldn''t have thought of them if I were sober.


    She looked around, noticed a few other people in the bar and the owner, leaned over to me and whispered in my ear:


    - Put a big neon sign on the roof saying that Moxie was looking for a husband and would marry the winner of the Arena.


    I glanced at Moxie. She glanced at me and stroked her chin thoughtfully with two fingers.


    - I think she''s listening - I said.


    - No, I didn''t hear anything you were whispering about - the hostess said, and I could tell she was trying to get some free publicity at Lily''s expense.


    - Well, let''s do it before she figures it out - she said and stood up.


    I shrugged.


    - If you pay for the work...


    I don''t care which of the two of them pays - money is money. Though it''s a shame I can''t charge both of them.


    As expected, Moxie not only didn''t look annoyed this morning, but she was even pleased. Hell, she''d even run that ad on Echonet, as it immediately turned out....


    I was about to leave the bar - I already had a job, and that was the main reason I''d been coming here since I''d gotten my own place - but I noticed Roland at a table in the corner. Ex-Atlas waved his hand invitingly, and I decided to approach him.


    Hmm.


    - Is something wrong? - I asked. The soldier looked... not so much frowning as pensive-something in between.


    - Atlas''s forces have arrived on Pandora - he informed me. I frowned. This was really unpleasant news.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.    - Are there any more details?


    "Incoming call, caller: Angel."


    I raised an eyebrow, but Roland was the first to react, taking the call on his own ECHO: apparently the AI had contacted both of us at the same time.


    - Hello, I have news worthy of your attention: the Atlas have landed one of their armies near the old Dahl Fort, and are now fortifying there. According to the communications I intercepted, they''re interested in Dr. Patricia Tannis.


    That''s where I really frowned. It''s like the plot''s suddenly taken off.


    - It''s also the forward units, especially the Crimson Lance Division, recieve bounty orders for deserter Roland - Angel continued.


    - That''s why you need to cover yourself with official papers... - I muttered, more to myself than to Roland. I was surprised that AlBa had exempted my backstory from that. On the other hand, I''m still "on the hook" for the corporation - but there''s an upside to that.


    - There is good news, however - Angel reported. - I''ve managed to locate an Eridian relic linked to the Vault with a high degree of probability. I''m transmitting the coordinates to your ECHOs. Good luck, I''ll contact you if I get any new relevant information.


    The hologram is gone.


    A quick review showed that the coordinates it had reset matched one of the locations Tannis had indicated. Hmm.


    - What are you planning? - I asked Roland; he was frowning, staring at his fists.


    - I''d rather not fight the Crimson Lance as much as possible - he answered. - Do you suppose they''re looking for the Vault?


    - Well, obviously, they''re not going to mount a major operation because of one deserter, no offense - I said. - Plus, they''re interested in Tannis, I don''t think she''s useful for anything else. Wait a minute...


    I gave the ECHO a few mental commands, and quickly reviewed the information I received.


    - Yup, I knew it. Atlas has been doing poorly lately, with problems on all fronts, so I guess they''re betting on the Vault - if they can get it, they can move up.


    - That''s not good - Moxie said. Huh. I didn''t notice at all when she was next to me at the table... - Correct me if I''m wrong, darlings, but this isn''t good for either of us.


    I shrugged.


    - Yeah, but what can you do? It''s not like a few people, even if they''re super pros, can handle an entire corporate army. The only thing to do is find the Vault ahead of them and clean it out.


    - Hmmm... - Moxie stretched out thoughtfully and erotically, raising, shall we say, morale. - You know, sugar, something can always be done, everyone has their weaknesses. And something you yourself have already suggested quite sensibly. If you''re interested in my opinion... If the corps is convinced that the Vault exists - it probably does exist. And if it does exist, why give its contents to the corporations? Brave guys like you obviously have more use for it. And if they''re looking for Tannis - you''d help a damsel in distress, wouldn''t you? I guess that''s enough to get you started. In the meantime, I''ll see what else I can do.


    She stood up, gave Roland and me air kiss, and walked back to the counter.


    The soldier and I looked at each other.


    - I''ve already told you I have some leads on the Vault - I said. - But it''s all going through Patricia Tannis. If we don''t have her, we don''t have a lead to the Vault.


    - So we have to get her out first - Roland nodded. - Roger that.


    - One more thing. The coordinates Angel dropped. If I understand correctly, there is an Eridian artifact, or rather a part of it, connected to the Vault. It could be nothing, but it''s a strong possibility. And, again, I could be wrong, but it''s worth getting it too, ahead of Atlas.


    - So we should split up - said the soldier. Now I nodded.


    - If we don''t want to waste time. And if we''re going to do it at all.


    - The alternative is to leave Pandora - said Roland. - I''d be charged as a deserter, you as a competitor. In both cases, the most likely outcome would be execution on sight.


    I grimaced and nodded.


    - Good. Do you have any more information?


    In the end, we decided that Roland would do the artifact retrieval, for which I gave him a video with images of previous shards. His reasoning was that he''d rather face the Eridian guards than his former coworkers (and I''d rather do the opposite), plus I''d already dealt with Tannis, and it would be easier for me to convince her that she was under threat... which isn''t really a fact. Still, she''s a valuable specialist who doesn''t need the Vault and its contents, just her research. In any case, the ex-Atlas fighter''s considerations were reasonable, and I agreed.


    He left immediately, and I... suddenly realized that I had no idea where to find Tannis: we had only communicated with her through the network.


    Shit. This is embarrassing.


    - Oh, you''re just in time! I was just about to contact you.


    Instead of the archaeologist''s face, the ECHO displayed something... I couldn''t figure out what it was for a few seconds, until I realized: tight pants-clad buttocks, close-up. I was talking to Tannis''s ass, and I have no idea how she managed to pull that off, considering the ECHO - at least mine - always displayed either the face of the caller or "caller hidden."


    - My mom told me not to mess with adventurous women, probably - I said. - But I didn''t listen to her, and where did that get me? To Pandora.


    Tannis turned sharply, and... uh, instead of buttocks, her breasts were in focus. Which makes it clear she didn''t set up the avatar herself.


    - I could share fascinating stories of falling to the bottom all day long, but alas, we don''t have much time, entropy does not slumber - she informed me. - Every second the heat death of the universe is getting closer... it''s so exciting!


    The last she said with a playful trill.


    - Well, fuck it. I have a job for you, another Eridian record needs to be saved from the vandals.


    I nodded.


    - I will. But first, one more thing. Atlas forces have landed on Pandora--


    - FINALLY! - the woman interrupted me, her tits jiggling with joy. - I applied for the damn grant six months ago!


    I mentally went through my options for an explanation, and concluded that explanations weren''t the way to go.


    - They''re not going to pay you - I informed them. - They just want the results of your research.


    Tannis frowned... uh, wait - how do I know that?


    I stared at her tits. They stared at me. The mystery continued to be a mystery.


    - WHAT? NO WAY! My research should not go to savages who don''t have at least three degrees! Though I''m willing to interview savages with three degrees - she said thoughtfully. She paused. - Okay, I''ll lay low on bottom. Or not, it''s damp and difficult with oxygen.


    - I''d invite you to my place, but my mom wouldn''t approve of sharing a room with a woman who can''t cook. Probably - I said. - But if you have any idea where you can hide out until the Atlasians get off the planet, I''d be willing to help.


    - Your mom''s a wise woman - Tannis said. - I suppose. Does she want a daughter-in-law, by the way? I don''t really have anyone in mind, though. I think I''ll just bury myself in one of the skag holes - it''s pretty cozy if you curl up, pretend you''re in bed, and don''t wake the skag. They have a pretty nasty burp.


    - ...On the other hand, you might as well learn to cook - I remarked. - It''s never too late to learn new skills.


    It''s never too late to have a story character eaten by skags. It''s unlikely, of course, but... with Tannis, anything seems possible.


    - Are you sure? - The woman asked. - I have a couple of nice skag dens in mind, and I have a very good relationship with their owner - he''s barely tried to bite my legs off the last couple days.


    No, of course not.


    - Yes, of course. Where can I pick you up from?


    ...I''m pretty sure I''m going to regret this.

 The great divide.

    Obviously, I wasn''t going to move this... archaeologist into my little house. Fortunately, building a house on Pandora is a simple matter, even without specialized tools, and I had access to adequate digital construction equipment. The land was free... well, it had its subtleties, but Moxie, who held the territory, didn''t mind and didn''t demand payment. Scrap metal and stone - almost everywhere, wood... well, it''s a bit more complicated: Pandora is not a forest planet, and stuff like electrocactus is not suitable for construction, at least not without a license to process it into something acceptable. Still, with the FTS network in place and the complete lack of any control, it wasn''t a problem at all. Actually, I always have a stock of wood and other resources - the fabricator is always hungry. Figuratively speaking.


    ...I hope so.


    - Chief, sorrow and disaster are coming to this sinful land - Pastor told me when I showed up at my warehouse. The vacuum cleaner was keeping watch over the perimeter of what had been a mini-career that had become a colony-settlement, and now was gradually transforming into an almost normal - for Pandora - work camp, so it was possible but unnecessary to appear unnoticed.


    - Lay it out - I answered, reloading the wood into my storage area. Network access in and around the settlement was restricted to make it harder to steal.


    - As the tower of Babel fell and discord fell among men, so now the shadow of war fell from misunderstanding and disagreement. Several conflicting factions have arisen in the settlement, and strife is brewing, - the robot reported. - And if the conflict between the Holers and Piters you can still extinguish, I suppose, but the naturals and instants...


    The vacuum cleaner made a sound like a heavy sigh. It also sucked up some garbage.


    - Natural people and what? - I asked suspiciously. That''s all I needed, just one more snake-eater....


    - Instants - the robot repeated. - Chief, the shepherd who sleeps shall not see his flock. You need to be more aware of your enterprise.


    The last one sounded reproachful.


    - Business... - I answered. - Shootouts, megacorporations, ancient civilizations - it''s distracting. But that''s why I left you here, to keep you in the loop.


    - Well, that''s true - Pastor agreed. - I mean, there''s a place for the Lord, and there''s a place for his prophets.


    - Anyway, don''t drag it out. What kind of perverts have formed here?


    - Holers are those who think that the settlement should be called Hole - answered the vacuum cleaner, apparently, having decided that he had already given out the norm of religious sayings. Or he just didn''t have the right quote... - The Piters, respectively, want to call it Pit.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    - And they''re willing to fight over that?


    - An idle mind is the refuge of darkness, which gives birth to monsters. Idleness breeds malice.


    I got the impression that if the vacuum cleaner had shoulders, he would have shrugged them off.


    - Yeah, well, what else do you expect from the locals - I muttered, rubbing my temples. - Okay, I think I can handle this one. What about the other two groups?


    Well, after the war over the teddy bear, it wasn''t surprising.


    ...Who am I kidding? If this kind of absurdity stops surprising and pissing me off, it will mean that my case is bad and I''m too imbued with Pandora. Although on Earth too, religious fanatics have killed each other over utter nonsense time and time again, but still - bloodshed over which coffee is the only acceptable, boiled or instant? Seriously? All we have to do is create a cult of coffee surrogates.


    - I''ve gathered you all to resolve the issues that have been creating friction in our little enterprise - I announced, standing in front of the assembled thugs who had been reclassified as laborers. Some of them didn''t even look like they were raised by wild punks anymore, plus there were no weapons... guns, I mean - they all had picks, hammers, or something similar. It''s very uncomfortable on Pandora without weapons, I know.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.    - What''s he saying? - Someone in the crowd asked. By this time I had about three dozen workers, of both sexes and all types, from dwarfs to big men.


    - We will be beaten - answered another, who was a dwarf. And explained:


    - To keep us quiet.


    I ignored them and continued.


    - For starters, the quarrels over the name of the settlement. What are you people even think, Pit, Hole? Do you want to live in a pit or die in a hole? No! Our company is about opportunity! Opportunities for personal and career growth! So we''ll call it Quareer.


    People started to look at each other.


    Then someone applauded. Another one, the next... Not everyone joined in, at least not at once, but soon the effect was achieved. All I had to do was give them a pie and tell them to applaud when I said the name.


    I waited until the raucous, prolonged applause subsided, nodded, and continued.


    - The name board will be posted as soon as possible... today.


    Another round of applause, shorter this time.


    - Our meeting will now consider the second question. Will the representatives of the parties please come forward?


    After a pause, the usual punkish thug, with traces of paint on his face, and a big guy... wearing a monocle?


    - I asked the speaker of the instants to present his argumentation - I said.


    The punk looked around, glanced at me; I nodded.


    - Explain why you have a conflict.


    The bandit brow furrowed.


    - What about them? Fucking aesthetes! Instant coffee is cool, you pour it, pour it, stir it, and enjoy it. But these motherfuckers want "process", "flavor", "what do you know about the drink of the gods"... ugh!


    He glared angrily at the rival representative, clenching his fists. Approving mutterings were heard in the crowd that was stratifying in front of his eyes, met with glances of disapproval from the other side.


    - What do you say? - I asked the big man.


    - I say that I feel sorry for the inferior degenerates who can''t understand the taste of real coffee, and who have the tongue to compare instant coffee with it - he said, raising his head arrogantly.


    - Hmm... - I stretched out. - I understand both your positions. But why don''t you let your opponents make their own mistake if you think it''s a mistake? Just quietly feel satisfied that someone is stupider than you.


    - Nah, boss, it''s a matter of principle - the punk shook his head.


    - I can''t believe it, but I agree with this... slopdrinker - the big guy joined him.


    - What did you call me?!


    - STOP! - I shouted. - You may hold your own views, but there is to be no fighting about it in my enterprise! Learn to tolerate each other, and until you can''t - everyone is transferred to tea!


    ...Oops. Perhaps that statement was a mistake.


    I was prepared for that, though, and as the angry crowd swarmed, the modified turrets opened fire.


    The tranquilizer and gas cannons borrowed from Dr. Zed were doing their job, but I think I had underestimated the fury of the coffee drinkers: it took double or even triple the dose of tranquilizer to knock them off their feet, and the cold weapons in their hands took down the first row of turrets in one or two seconds before the slightly thinner human wave reached them.


    However, although I had fewer tranquilizer guns than I would have liked, I had more than enough rubber bullets, plus one strategically placed freeze gun. Plus the gas covered almost everyone, it just didn''t work right away.


    And I didn''t stand on the sidelines, I was knocking out those who were aiming at the turrets with Zed cannons - I still have to return them, they cost money. This robber took a hefty bail...


    Despite the reducing ranks, the people came with the fury of a berserker who had lost his most precious possession. Fortunately, while the rage added to their resilience and strength, it took away their strategic thinking and cooperation skills, so despite the increased threat level, and the continued loss of turrets, the advantage remained on my side.


    After all, I was the only one who came to this fight with a gun. And not just single.


    - ...And for the attempted rebellion and attack on the boss for the next week tea will be without sugar - I finished to the recovered frowning bandits.


    - I told you - we will be beaten - satisfied, despite the bruises from rubber bullets, said the dwarf to his neighbor.

 Crossing paths.

    The incident in the Quareer didn''t really take up much of my time, and soon I was in the process of erecting uncle''s Sam... er, I mean archaeologist''s hut. Floor-walls-ceiling, bunk-chair-table... well, that''s enough of that, I guess. Amenities are extra charge. Payment with body... I don''t take it.


    Tannis has a nice figure, though, yeah. But "don''t stick it in crazy", is the rule. Even taking into account the fact that it is problematic to find someone on Pandora who is definitely not crazy, I will try to stick to it. I mean not to stick.


    Anyway, the cabin''s ready. Time to move the archaeologist in.


    I feel like I''m going to fucked up, and I''m not going to get away with the headache I already have.


    - ...Unfortunately, we couldn''t find any indications on the reasons for the disappearance of the Eridians, which is understandable - all the records found so far refer to a period long before that, and there is a suspicion that by the time of the disappearance the psychic imprints we used in the stone had ceased to be created. Still, even so, there''s enough information for years and years of work....


    As it turns out, when Tannis talks about her work, she sounds like a normal person. Well, like normal... A desperate nerd, but in her case, it''s a serious improvement over her usual communication style. She seemed to be taking full advantage of the opportunity to talk, and while some of the flow of this verbal river was lost to me due to unfamiliarity with the terms or whatever, I was still listening with interest, which seemed to be the only thing my passenger needed.


    - Personally, based on the sources I''ve already received on Pandora, I believe - I''m almost certain - that this planet was something like a testing ground for various biotechnological developments. In the records I read, there were a fair number of references to... - her rapid flow of speech took a brief pause - combat tests? Drills? Shows? Lots of ambiguous concepts, pretty vague. But skags are definitely designed by them, though for what purpose, I''m not sure. A moderately successful mass-produced project, something like that.


    - What''s the most successful one? - I managed to get a question in.


    - Not a bad question, and one I hope to get an answer to. Skags are marvelous creatures, so it would be curious to look at something that far surpasses them.


    Personally, I was interested in terms of "knowing what to avoid", but... I have to admit, I''m genuinely curious.


    - As I understand it, the Eridians have begun to approach the limits of what can be accomplished by biology alone... or at least "the biology we''re used to". So some kind of cyborgs, perhaps...? Or perhaps something more exotic? Oh, if you meet one - don''t be a barbarian, don''t kill this undoubtedly marvelous creature. Though, of course, I have little reason to rely on your sanity....


    ...


    No comment.


    - How wonderfully nostalgic - Tannis said, glancing at the cottage that had been built for her. - The janitor at the academy used to keep his brooms in a shack like this. Are there rats in there? - She turned to me. I shook my head in the negative. - If there are no rats, then what''s for lunch?


    I almost said ''whoever you catch'', but... it''s Pandora, damn it. So instead I jabbed my finger toward the bar.


    - If you don''t have any, ask Moxie, the bar hostess. She''ll either rip you off or load you up with work, but she''ll feed you. - I hesitated. - On principle, I should talk to her, too.


    - You''re just in time, Mr. Dyatlov - said Moxie. - I have some news about our business together.


    While Tannis played peek-a-boo with the sausages - probably skaggy - I chatted with the tit... bar hostess.


    Moxie had laid out a rarity on the table: a paper map of Pandora. Not the entire planet, just a single region, but even those are rarely used; usually the ECHO projects a ground plan of the immediate vicinity, and travel is based on FTS, not geography. Local specificity, one manifestation of it. It''s not that Pandora maps don''t exist, Dahl made them - and their satellites still remain in orbit - it''s just that there''s usually no need.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.    Now, however, was a special case.


    - The Atlas base is here now - Moxie tapped the map with a finger with a manicure phenomenally good for Pandora. - Just south of the Crossroads station. A little bird in her beak had brought word that Atlas had invested most of their remaining resources into this operation, and if it failed they would cease to be not only a threat, but even just a player.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    - And you think it''s possible to pull something off that would make them screw up, tuck tail, and run away?


    - Quite, dearie - the woman informed me. - I''d say more than likely.


    - You want to put some big gangs on them? - I skeptically suggested. - Lady, I''m not really familiar with the Crimson Lance and other Atlas special forces, not counting Roland, but I can''t imagine a situation in which they won''t take down the bandits. Even if with casualties.


    - That''s why I have something better - Moxie said languidly and with a smile. - There''s no need to make a big war when you can strike one blow at the right point.


    - So. - I said suspiciously. - You don''t mean me by "something better," do you? I''m tough, but not that tough.


    - Not just you... - Moxie shook her head. - You can do it, sugar, I believe in you. All you have to do is get in, turn on the self-destruct system, and escape with the treasure.


    - The treasure? - I sat back in my chair. Moxie nodded.


    - That''s right, sugarplum. Crimson Fort is not only Atlas''s stronghold on Pandora, but also their arsenal and storehouse of finances. If done right, it could be an opportunity to get out of trouble and make some very, very good money.


    Shit. Go away, devil''s temptation. Caution and discretion are paramount.


    But money still is money!..


    Crossroads Station, despite its name, is not at a crossroads. The Dahl had once planned to make one, but didn''t have time, and at the time of their departure from the planet, Crossroads was an unloading station. Literally and psychologically, it was a spaceport, taking minerals and seafood from the planet, as well as various entertainment for the corporation''s employees. Now it was a remnant of civilization at the point between nowhere and somewhere.


    The changes were even more comprehensive than one might think: suffice it to say that previously, only ten years ago, there had been a small, mostly shallow, but still sea to the north. Pandora. A planet where even geography is unpredictable.


    I stood by the road, crinkling my nose at the sand grains the cold wind was throwing in my face, and looked up at the machine shop building where I''d have to meet the other Moxie Men.


    The picture wasn''t impressive. Neither was the situation.


    I sighed and stepped forward. It could have been a lot worse, really. There were no bullet marks on the building, there was power, and even the doors were in place - what more could I want?


    - Oh, hey, man! - A grubby guy of a hard-to-define age, between fifteen and thirty, in clothes stained with machine oil, crawled out from under the half-disassembled car and smiled at me cheerfully, albeit a bit moronically. - Mommy sent you, didn''t she?


    "Scooter," - the ECHO obligingly reported. - "Genius mechanic. Even without drugs."


    - Mommy? - I interjected.


    - Uh-huh, Moxie - he eagerly responded, and I rubbed my temples. Shit. How old is she, anyway?


    ...Nah, I''m not gonna ask.


    All right. No.


    - Yeah, but aren''t you being a little, uh, reckless? - I asked him, looking at his belt. Not even a gun. - There''s bandits around.


    - Nope, - he brushed it off - i''ve got camouflaged turrets all over the place..


    §°! Our man.


    - Your father isn''t a from Vladoff, is he? - I chuckled.


    - No, he was from the Zaford clan - he said, and then the door opened again. I turned my head and saw a wide, girlish smile on his face.


    Lily Rose. Don''t tell me this is the best Moxie could find.


    - It''s going to be a great adventure, Magister! - said the girl quite contentedly. - I even ordered a new staff for it!


    In her hands she held a Maliwan sniper rifle, which really looked like a staff because of its long barrel, narrow buttstock, and small handle.


    "A staff without a knob, Legendary quality." - The ECHO said, and I noticed the inscription on the barrel: "I twist and turn, zap and burn".


    I looked from the gun to the girl, and then the door opened for the third time in a minute.


    - Welcome back, amigo! - Slippery Jim announced. He looked at Lily. - Oh, what a beauty! And what a girl!


    - I see - I muttered. - Well, that''s something to work with. I hope so.

 Step back, two steps forward, or skies is clear, flight as normal.

    - Well, people, situation is such, - Scooter said, looking at Lily Rose with a sneaky and very obvious glance. - The Lance have set up a roadblock on the road, blocking the only way to the Crimson Citadel.


    - And go around it? - Lily asked.


    - Tower turrets - explained the mechanic. - Well, as usual. Either by road or by air. But by air... our aviation sucks.


    Lily was in thought, obviously about her broom, but cringed when she realized the limitations of its carrying capacity.


    - How well are it blocked? - That was Jim. - What about stealthily pass through, bribe, distract?


    Scooter shook his head furiously with such force that if he''d had a hat, it would have fallen off.


    - Hopeless. No, if you want you can take a look for yourself, maybe you''ll see something, but the plan is different. You''re gonna need a tank. Here, check this out.


    He slapped the ECHO on his belt, activating the holographic interface, ran his fingers over it, and a projection of, uh, an armored vehicle appeared in front of us. About twice the size of the truck I used in my enterprise, with a couple of cannons and a catapult. Hmm.


    - It''s not a tank - Lily voiced the obvious. - They have bigger trunks.


    - It''s not the size that matters, it''s how you use the thing - Jim said, glancing at me.


    I thought of several ways of saying something funny and stupid, but decided that this team needed someone with some common sense. Just homeless killers is OK - that''s an ancient, respected occupation. But killer clowns is a circus.


    - Let''s go with APC, in this case it''s not a big deal. Are you suggesting we fight our way out? It''s suicide, even if the armor can withstand their fire, they will warn the citadel, and our only chance is surprise and unexpectedness.


    - It''s a little trickier - Scooter replied. - Mo... I mean, the car ain''t the only thing that''s gonna make a difference. These dudes, Lance, I mean, just arrived recently, they haven''t had time to do everything thoroughly. They got radio communications, heavy weapons only hand grenade launchers, defense installments powered by a couple of their own generators. If we hit them with an EMP, they''ll be out of power for a while, and then we can either take a prisoner and make them report to the Citadel that everything''s okay, or we can figure something out ourselves.


    - We could even make a false call for backup to draw some of the Citadel''s forces away - Jim said thoughtfully. - There are options, though it won''t be simple. Getting someone from the Crimson Lance to send a false signal won''t be easy if you don''t have your own man inside beforehand.


    Lily, like a schoolgirl, extended her hand.


    - Can I do, can I do...?


    - "Can do" what? - I asked.


    - Torture! - The girl explained with a happy smile. - In my house, it is generally forbidden, and I''m a decent girl, so I''ve never had the chance. And here is such an opportunity!


    ...No, I don''t think I''ll marry her after all.


    I looked at Jim. He shrugged.


    - Well, I don''t mind giving in to the girl, he said. - In fact, if there are enough survivors, we can have a contest to see who can do it first.


    ...Fuck. What a mess I''ve gotten myself into.


    It''s a relief at least Claptrap not here.


    - Uh, boss, what are you doing here? - this absurd robot had the nerve to ask my question in surprise.


    I came face to face with Claptrap, figuratively speaking, when I was scouring a large abandoned garage where a small pride of skags had set up, looking for a few parts Scooter needed to build an EMP bomb and an armored car. You can imagine my surprise.


    - What are you doing here? You''re supposed to be in Yellowrock - I said. - Don''t tell me it''s your twin brother, I can see your ID.


    - Is anyone going to let me use the twin brother line? - the robot asked grudgingly. - But okay, boss, you got it. It takes a lot of money to establish power over the world, so here I am, moonlighting.


    He demonstrated a small broom. Obviously, this explanation is lame, even for Pandora, but....


    "Incoming call from unknown caller," said the ECHO. Huh. Curious.


    I raised my hand toward Claptrap, indicating to wait, and took the call.


    - This is A, the informant in the Crimson Lance - reported an obviously synthesized male voice. - If Moxie hasn''t alerted about me, you may request confirmation.


    - I wil - I replied, opening a parallel call line.


    - I''ll contact you again in three minutes - the voice said and disconnected. I waited a few seconds.


    - Yes, darling.


    - And if I wanted to ask for money? - I asked.


    - We''d discuss the percentage, obviously - Moxie replied. - But you''re about the team and the informant, I suppose.


    - Only the second, actually - I said. - A synthesized male voice, called ''A'', said you should have warned me.


    - Sorry, sugar, business deal, you know how it is... Yes, I can confirm, A is a good contact to deal with. In fact, this contact has critical information, so try to get along, okay?


    - As long as they''re not trying to kill me, I''m willing to cooperate - I noted. Then I remembered Kincaid. - And even when they do, there are still options... But it''s more expensive.


    Moxie blew me a kiss and broke the connection.


    I looked back at Claptrap and found that the robot had managed to slip away. The main thing was to keep it out of the way and not die, but except it - whatever.


    "A" promised to supply us with important information, and began with an internal plan of the Crimson Citadel, showing key locations like the armory, treasury, and self-destruct system (why is it there, anyway? Purely for plot purposes, so players can destroy everything?), and a few digital keys. He promised to get the most important ones later, without mentioning payment. Moxie''s probably paying. In general, it all boiled down to the fact that while we were mining materials for the armored car and the bomb, the informant agent would get the keys.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    How do you get resources on Pandora? The answer is always "Bandits." Well, or "Bandits and Skags." I can attest, I have experience and my own enterprise. Even in an abandoned garage, where it seemed the only critters were skags (and a few skythids under the floor), I came across one making a home in an old refrigerator. This freezer man nearly killed me with a skag ham on a bone, which he swung like a club with such force, in spite of his tiny stature, that it pierced the floor. That''s where the Scythids came out, and they distracted him for a second, just long enough for me to slip away: he ignored the few bullets he fired at the undersized man, despite his lack of shield.


    Nails made from such people would be the strongest nails in the world, except for the adamantine ones from the Vladoff.


    However, the bandits our team had gone to together to get the missing materials were much more... within the bounds of human strength.


    We had two rifles, a bear, and endless grenades. I knew I''d switch to mines at some point as well; there''s nothing more satisfying than relaxedly sipping coffee while watching enemies try to mine their way to the turrets under sniper fire. We had to make do with stretches for now, but even so my companions agreed that it was a good picnic that would be nice to repeat.


    Lily Rose''s "staff", by the way, turned out to be an interesting piece of equipment. A dual-mode rifle that could switch between electricity and fire, against shields and flesh, with fire - plasma? - "bullets" also exploded slightly, and the electric ones made the bandits twitch funny.


    Uh-huh. I think I''ve really messed with a bad company that''s a bad influence on me.


    - Is that it, or do you need anything else? - I asked, piling a third pile on the floor in front of Scooter, complete with LR and Jim''s piles. Piles in a good sense, of looted stuff.


    - Let me see... - the grimy mechanic muttered and almost dived into the pile of materials. - Oooooh, nice! They even had a fourth issue of Mecha-assholes and Electrofetishists!


    - What did you say? - I asked, hoping I''d misheard.


    - I''m saying that you can''t find such engines without a license - the guy said. Yeah, you heard me... "My internal combustion''s sister"! With additional illustrations?!...? Wow!


    ...Fuck it, let it be.


    - Sorry to bother you, sugar, but there''s been an unforeseen complication. - Moxie looked as unfazed as ever. - The informant has a problem.


    - I take it we''re not calling off the operation? - I asked.


    - No, it''s not that bad. All you have to do is break into the old prison near the Crossroads and get the informant out of there.


    There are times when you want to kill somebody, but then you realize you''ve done it before, and recently.


    I signed.


    - All right. How do we find him and identify him?


    Normal heroes always take a detour, so this additional task wasn''t surprising at all. Jim and Lily were completely at ease with it; for the mercenary it was, like for me, a normal and expected surprise, for the crazy girl - an additional opportunity to "practice Maliwan''s special weapon magic" on live targets.


    Even the fact that it took another "sidequest" didn''t change the picture.


    Just getting to the prison was impossible; the Crimson Lance had also blocked the road in that direction, and while this post was quite squishy and breaking through wouldn''t be much of a problem, it would raise an alarm that we didn''t need: the whole plan to storm the Crimson Citadel relied on surprise and speed before any fuss was made. Unlike the Citadel, there was also another path leading to the prison called the Locked Palace... before. The bridge over the abyss was simply crushed by the Crimson Lance men, so as not to spread their forces to guard another strategic object.


    Savages and barbarians that make an engineer''s heart bleed. You didn''t build it, you don''t have to break it...


    In any case, such trifles as an abyss of a couple of dozen meters did not stop the reckless Pandorians. When Scooter voiced a new list of requirements, including a small antigrav and a set of plates made of "aviation" alloys, I decided that he wanted to try to build something flying.


    Well, almost.


    - I thought it was going to be something flying - I said, frowning as I examined the new By Scooter model. It looked like a lightweight Courier. - less armor, thinner frame, a little different suspension - but the engine is more powerful, and it had antigrav. But it''s a weak one, and doubtful that it''ll allow even such a lightweight design to take to the air.


    - Oh, this baby flies - Jim reported. He''d had a chance to try it out, and had taken a seat behind the wheel, so that Lily Rose and I were left to get along in the gunner''s nest or on the frame. - Nice car.


    - Well, I''ll take your word for it - I said doubtfully. Personally, I prefer more armor. And guns. And preferably a good shield.


    I had my doubts at first, as soon as I saw the car, but when we pulled up, without slowing down, to the abyss and I saw the structure in front of it... At first I thought it couldn''t really be what I thought it was.


    Then I sadly remembered that I was on Pandora.


    And yet, hope dies last.


    - You can''t be serious, can you? - I turned to Jim over the hum of the engine. He grinned instead of answering. - Come on, we could just take turns flying over on Lily''s broomstick...


    - Nope! Not gonna make it - the girl said enthusiastically, and Jim added gas.


    And then turned on the accelerator, guiding our transport to the ramp.


    - YAHOO!


    - OH, YEAH, BABY!


    - AAAAAH!


    - I think we hit the rakk... - I said with a tremor in my voice. - I-I-I''m s-so sorry for him...


    Jim patted my shoulder understandingly.


    - Be strong, amigo. You''ll remember him on the way back.


    I looked at the ramp from this side and nodded.


    - Yeah. I''ll d-definitely r-remember him.

 The boss of this gym.

    I had to come to my senses after Jim''s stunt on the road. The car was so light and fast that it was always trying to overturn on the corners, and the fact that there were three passengers instead of two did not improve the situation. It was good that Jim and Lily were thin and lightweight; the two of them should have weighed a little more than me in armor. However, for balance, I took off the armor and put my arm around the girl - for the balance of the car and the ability to stand on it, obviously.


    Yes.


    Actually, I very rarely take off my armor. If it were fully functional, there would be no need to take it off at all... well, except in special circumstances, like Moxie. Unfortunately, most of the advanced features like body cleansing and climate control are out of commission, and repairs are slow - Vladov''s delivery service is famous for its speed... So my cabin has an armored shower stall, and I''ve had a chance to compare my current body to my old Earth body.


    Well, what can I say... All in all, a great trade off. Or rather, an upgrade. Because it was definitely my own body, just improved.


    And slightly enlarged.


    ...I mean muscles, no vulgarity.


    Anyway, there were too many distractions, so it''s forgivable that I didn''t immediately notice... this.


    Take, well, a water strider. It''s not exact, but it''s enough to understand.


    And then magnify it by... several thousand times? I''m not sure. Well, to a height of about ten meters.


    And such thing walking leisurely on its own up ahead.


    What. This. Thing. Is.


    Fortunately, asking the question out loud, demonstrating my ignorance, wasn''t necessary: I have an ECHO, after all.


    ¡­


    ...Pandora, man. This absurd thing on long legs, brazenly ignoring the laws of biology (but I''m not much better at it myself..... Pandora, lawless planet), is actually a marine creature that could even be called analogous to a... whale? I''d say a mixture of whale and mangrove.


    ...Yeah. Sounds weird enough even for Pandora.


    Anyway, it - they - lived on the shoals and fed on plankton and marine life. Then the sea dried up, - ... - but the drifters, once called "floaters" for the way they rested on the surface of the water with their legs tucked up, stayed. And they''ve managed to adapt to living on land.


    On the plus side, these creatures are relatively peaceful, and don''t attack unless you get too close. On the downside, that "too close" isn''t so small for their size, and with a kick of their feet they can pierce the armor of even a light tank.


    Zerg, my ass.


    ...Huh. And the Eridians are Protoss. Biomechanical shit with powerful shields. Surely there''s no crossover?


    I looked suspiciously at the sky, but AlBa didn''t react.


    ...No, that''s definitely purely a gaming, decorative piece of shit.


    I''m talking about a slightly corroded ship lying on the dry seabed, a little bigger than a boat. How the hell did it get here? Floating along, and suddenly all the water''s gone? Seriously, it''s not even funny. And someone was talking about realism...


    ...The ship suddenly rose up, releasing six crab legs on either side of the hull, and scampered away on them. I was sure that no giant crab had just been underneath it.


    - Retcon is a cheat - I muttered.


    - What do you mean? - Jim asked.


    - Never mind, just thinking out loud.


    We did have a conflict with one of the drifters - they can be unexpectedly sudden - but for all their size and strength, they''re vulnerable. Their legs are made of some kind of super-strong organic shit like an improved version of chitin, and their bodies are covered in it, but they have a few large, noticeable vulnerabilities - gas sacks with soft skin, through which bullets pierce internal organs. Predators like skags can''t reach it at this altitude, but bullets don''t care. An easy opponent, relatively.


    Despite the ever-present threat of Pandorian critters, the road was pretty boring - well, until we got into a little adventure with a rakk who stole LR hat, but that was no big deal either, we just happened to stumble upon a cult of some pyromaniacs. One of them showed some weird powers, but I managed to shoot him before Lily noticed, and most of the others ran away, and fuck them. What important - we got hat back.


    However, even this small incident didn''t exactly revitalize our journey.


    ...Pandora is definitely affecting me in a bad way, and having realized it, I spent the rest of the trip trying to introspect, comparing my behavior and reactions "before" and "after", and only listening to Lily asking Jim about shamans of savages. What about the changes that had happened to me was a habit, and what was something else...?


    And is it really bothers me? Actually, Pandora is not a place where it makes sense to ask such questions. Valuable resources, including brainpower, should be directed to survival, and other things... well, you can afford them when you are sure that at least in the next couple of hours nobody will try to eat you.


    I think so.


    - Don''t worry, be happy - I muttered under my breath.


    - That''s right - Jim agreed, to my surprise. - And by the way, we''re getting closer. According to the map, it''ll be in sight in about ten minutes.


    - Finally - I sighed. - We''ll have to use more spacious transportation next time. By the way, what''s the plan?


    Jim and Lily looked at each other.


    - I thought you were in charge of this - the driver voiced his thoughts. I sighed again, this time heavily, however-


    "Incoming call. Moxie."


    - Is something wrong? - I asked, turning on the public call.


    - No, I just wanted to ask a favor. A paid one - the lady clarified, which was not unreasonable. - It''s a bit personal, but as it happens... The Locked Palace is currently run by someone named Shank.


    - ...§°. - Jim said.


    - Exactly - agreed Moxie.


    - And? - our driver asked.


    - Yup - Moxie replied.


    - And now can we have a translation for those who do not speak a Moximal incomprehensible dialect? - I asked.


    - It''s just that Moxie''s asking me to kill her ex-boyfriend - Jim said.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!    - The poor guy is, uh, off his rocker - Moxie sighed. - He was going through a bad divorce.


    - You were married? - I asked in surprise. The image of our femme fatale nodded.


    - For a while. I thought we had a pretty good breakup, but... as life proved, it was a harder blow for him than it seemed at first. So this will be an act of mercy as well as a release from a nuisance.


    - I see - I nodded. - And in reality? What is the main reason for this order?


    - His current interests cast a shadow over me - the lady didn''t try to be sly. I nodded again.


    - All right, let''s do what we can.


    From what I understand from our situation, this guy''s into human trafficking, maybe something else equally unpleasant; for all of Moxie''s... Pandorian-ness, she''s got some principles. So I can understand her.


    Here we go. In more ways than one.


    I never cease to be amazed at the carelessness of most, majority, Pandorian bandits. No outside surveillance, sentries or alarms. Come whoever you want, do whatever you want... Yeah, sure, there should be a bunch of armed thugs inside the building, but that''s no excuse. After all, why would you take over a well-defended facility if you don''t take full advantage of it? We quietly drove up without attracting attention; they hadn''t even bothered to hang the gate in place - the passage was free.


    "Locked Palace, Prison & Bar," read the blue-lamp-lit sign. "& gym," was added a little further back. Right, here we are...


    We had several options. A stealthy infiltration, an attempt to negotiate - to ransom the informant, for example - a distraction... All of that went to the dustbin of unrealized stories when Lily grinned and threw her bear cub with ungirlish strength toward the entrance. On the fly, the "toy" began to grow and landed on its four paws in robot battle form. Robogrizzly rushed forward, and the flimsy bars of the front door flew into the hallway, crushed by a teddy bear.


    Shit, those idiots didn''t even put a couple of machine guns in the straight corridor....


    ...I love idiots.


    There had obviously been attempts at resistance, and not to say that the... peculiarly dressed inhabitants were weaklings. Idiots incapable of organizing an effective cohesive defense, yes, but not weak. Already after the first skirmish the robot-bear began to limp, having received a couple of axe blows that pierced his body; give time, and he could be restored, or even digitally rebuilt, but now he had to hurry, using the inertia of the situation, before the bandits organized themselves. The building, by the way, turned out to be spacious, but riddled with confusion; a small maze like... in the game, yes.


    With enemies popping out of all sorts of different, and often quite unexpected, places. What about a bedside table dwarf? Or a regular-sized, just skinny, type from under the bed. With a not-insignificant rocket-propelled grenade launcher tube in his hands. No ECHO or inventory system, just holding it.


    Also because we were inside an albeit large building, but still enclosed space, and not everywhere spacious enough, it was hard to use Lily''s infinite grenades. At least her bear was fully work out of its figurative honey, and even when it got stuck in passageways, it was usually a problem for the walls, not for it - though once it was taken advantage of by a thug wearing some sort of leather... mask? on his head who came out of a vent somewhere. The sawaxe left another hole, and the bear began to limp on another paw, but such a lucky bandit... well, turned out not to be lucky at all.


    Despite my advice to practice economy, Lily took great pleasure in raining down a shower of SG bullets, while Jim and I used mostly revolvers - and occasionally shotguns.


    - How many of them are there? - I asked, puzzled, after shooting another bandit.


    - Enough in my experience - Jim said. - Huh, look at this.


    He pointed his finger toward the far corner of a rather spacious room with several tables - a dining room? - where we were.


    Huh, indeed. A memorial?


    A collage of a few photos, with a couple guns lying underneath. I frowned, peering in; it felt like I recognized one of the faces. And what does it say there...?


    "With memory and love. They were first-passers, pioneers."


    ...Bah, it''s Moxie''s previous hit order! What was he called, "Fater Grabbe."


    I snickered, digitally constructed a felt-tip pen, and crossed out letters "r" and "p".


    - Yeah, the breakup really took its toll on the poor guy, I see - I muttered. - Jim, I''m beginning to worry about you and me.


    - Oh, I¡­ - Slippery began, but the next instant a rather large, shaven-headed man appeared beside him with an effect similar to that of high-speed digitalization, grabbed the mercenary in his arms, and disappeared with him.


    - ...Jim had been kidnapped - I voiced the obvious.


    I looked at the memorial and shuddered.


    One could only hope that even if, uh, our Slippery Buddy''s honor and dignity were at risk, he was slippery enough - in a good way - to last long enough... again in a good way.


    - Goodbye, Jim - said LR solemnly and slightly sadly. - You were a good mercenary.


    - Hey, I''m still alive! - Jim''s outraged voice came from somewhere in the ceiling speaker. Wow, that''s a classic joke live.


    - If you want your pretty boy back, stop... stalling, and come... into my room! - That voice, a man''s voice, was unfamiliar to me. The boss of this gym, I believe, is Shanks.


    Huh. Come in my room, you say? Are you trying to boss me around? Don''t burst.


    I mean, from the grenades.


    ...I mean from the explosions.


    - We will not forget your sacrifice. - ignoring everything, Lily continued.


    - I''m telling you, I''m still alive!


    - You''ll be remembered as the loser who let yourself be kidnapped in the middle of an enemy base.


    - ...I can''t argue with that - Jim admitted.


    - "All evil comes from women," - Shanks said philosophically. - Uh, I mean, I''m waiting... oh, and I blocked the exit. I don''t like it when a date doesn''t show up.


    I glanced at the loudspeaker, at Lily, and sighed. The obligatory boss fight, and with a hostage, too.


    - I''ve given up plans to get married, I don''t have a childhood friend waiting for me at home, I don''t plan on retiring - I said. - Oh, and anything can go wrong.


    - What was that? - Lily asked puzzled.


    - Taking down the death flags - I answered. - Think of it as a reality-affecting spell. Now let''s move, and hope we all survive.

 About the unity and the opposite of the carrot and the whip.

    Despite the boss''s "invitation," they didn''t stop attacking us. And with the reduced manpower... it wasn''t really that hard. There was still no real organized defense, for the most part, and considering that my partner''s ammo was as endless as grenades, and she spent it with the same enthusiasm... well, I was there to cover her, to keep her from getting too carried away and making fatal mistakes, and to let her have fun.


    - Bwa-ha-ha-ha!


    Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta


    - Aah!


    - I''ll gnaw your bones and make socks out of them!


    - Aah! She killed him... or didn''t him? Ah, me...


    - Magister, what are you doing? - Glancing in my direction, this ma... although why am I embarrassed, niac, fire another salvo in the direction of the obviously dead bandit from behind the cover of her bear.


    - I''m writing a letter to your husband - I informed her.


    - But I''m not married - she said puzzled, stopping firing. The bear kicked the corpse toward the pile of others, clearing a passage.


    I nodded.


    - Yup, working ahead of the game. Consider it male solidarity. Give it to him when you decide on a candidate.


    I held out a piece of paper to her.


    - "How to woo your magical girl," - she read aloud. I shrugged.


    - If anything was wrong, I was open to comments.


    She nodded and continued reading.


    - "If you care about your testicles, don''t let aggression build up. Regularly walk your magical girl (hereafter MG) in places where socially useless individuals congregate (my recommendation: Pandora, but you can tailor it to your taste and mood), covering her and supporting her. A MG who is happy, satisfied, and has spent her ammunition allowance is the key to a healthy and safe family life. Note: don''t forget to diversify your leisure time; monotonous shooting can get boring, and the consequences can be unpredictable...."


    Lily nodded again, then folded the sheet and slipped it into her unremarkable cleavage, an obvious show-off since the paper had clearly been digitized in the vault. The bear looked at me, nodded, and shrank into a small state.


    - I''ll familiarize myself with the whole thing later - the girl informed me. I nodded to her and the bear.


    Although they continued to attack us, I noticed one unpleasant fact. Among the attackers there were almost no more relatively normal bandits, trying to act more or less intelligently. And that made me fear that the boss had gathered them around him, leaving trash to kill themselves. I''m a badass, but you can take down anyone with a numbers, and my "character" was already taken down by bandits once, at the beginning of the "game". And the boss clearly has his surprises, judging by teleportation, or whatever it was.


    By the way, teleportation technology exists, but... that''s about all I know about it. There are short "jumps" used in some army equipment, like grenade modifiers, and there are interstellar "jumps". And there seem to be various personal teleporters, but I''ve only seen mentions of them and vague rumors, like that they''re used by assassin-saboteurs from elite Atlas units. I know that we in Vladoff had a project of teleporting projectiles/rockets to overcome armor, without the limitations that grenade modifiers have, but I have no idea at what stage it is, or if they are doing it at all. Well, there are also landing pods - but it''s not actually teleport, it''s digitalization, the same as FTS.


    In any case, if this type had demonstrated some such rare feature - what else could he have in store? It was making me tense. If he had enough minions to level me up, I might have felt a little more confident, but alas. Even the display of the necessary "experience" needed before I could level up had not been given to me.


    Lily obviously didn''t share my hesitation, whether it was due to overestimating my abilities, underestimating my opponent, or being fundamentally reckless.


    I suspect all three. That''s why I have to keep an eye on her.


    The midget hiding in the skag was a surprise, slightly, but overall it was a normal day on Pandora.


    - Every step forward is a step toward death; death is the goal and reference point from which we are trying to escape and to which we are steadily approaching... - I muttered thoughtfully.


    - Another spell, Master? - Lily asked with obvious interest, taking notes.


    - No, I just wanted to philosophize - I refused, firing a bullet from my revolver into the back of the head of the fleeing midget with an enlarged skull. Huh. I expected more brains.


    ...If we do manage to get back to Earth, it might be difficult to acclimatize back.


    - Do you think they''re there? - Lily asked, looking at the door ahead. A big, double-leafed one, with signs like "Welcome, Intruders!" and "Good Day to DIE" and "Figth Heer!".


    - Either it''s a dumb trap, - I said - or it''s also a trap, but with a boss.


    The two of us stared at the door.


    - We could just booby-trap it and blow it to smithereens - my companion suggested.


    - And Jim? - I asked.


    - Let''s pretend that he was killed by bandits, - suggested the kind girl.


    - If you waste good mercenaries like that, they''ll run out quickly - I said.


    - That''s right, too, - Lily agreed. - As Mother says, people should be valued, and not overpaid.


    - Is a person worth less by weight than by potential merit? - I suggested.


    - But in parts can be sold more expensive - agreed the girl. - Do you know each other?


    - No, I just thought of the logic. Privateers are not so different from corporations. Anyway, Jim might still be useful... although I''m not sure it''s worth the risk.


    Lily thought for a moment.


    - When in doubt, cast a...


    The SG disappeared from her hands, replaced by


    - ...EXPLOSION!!!


    with the thick tube of a grenade launcher.


    It went off. The grenade launcher, like the rest of this rich girl equipment, was definitely of "blue" quality. The rumble hit my ears, the blast wave hit my body, throwing me off my feet.


    However, despite the minor inconveniences, the result was pleasing. One door leaf, which turned out to be metal beneath the imitation wood, was torn in two; the other was ripped off its hinges and crashed into several of the group of bandits waiting outside the door, with a couple of skags on leashes.


    Lily was still standing proudly, chin up, grenade launcher tube in hand, her bear just beginning to enlarge, and the bandits and their pets remained stunned and disoriented as I opened fire from the Thunderer. Almost inaudible at first, the crackle of discharges gradually grew louder as my hearing returned to normal. Enhanced physiology and auto-pharmacy rulez...


    Lily held out her hand, and I clapped it. Well, we really do work well together, that doesn''t even need to be voiced... Though she is a bit too impulsive.


    Although there were some among the backdoor ambush who were able to survive a full AB of Thunderer, it wasn''t like it helped them - I just reloaded.


    The entourage surrounding the boss was smaller than I had feared, but it was still six big guys in armor, albeit not full armor and rather tattered, but mine too was in a state far from ideal. The only thing that pleased, or rather did not cause additional tension, was that only three of them had shields. The boss himself had a shield... but a physical one, a small round aspis with a fluorescent glowing ring on it. In his right hand was a whip crackling with discharges.


    "Shanks. Sometimes life prompts things to change drastically..." - the Echo reported.


    With a glimpse, I spotted Jim mounted on the wall of a spacious and rather tall room, closer to the ceiling.


    - What about the villain''s monologue? - I asked, getting ready to start the digitalization of the turret.


    - Hey, you''re the villains! - the host was outraged. - You burst into my palace, crushed everyone, even kicked in the door!


    - ...I apologize for the door - I admitted. The man sighed and waved his hand.


    - Okay, it happens to everybody. No offense, just die...


    The turret behind me came to life at the same time as Shanks - Shanka, Shank? What''s his real name? - dissipated with ''holographic elements'', and I darted to the side. Rolls don''t grant invulnerability, but they do have an evasion bonus.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.    ...Wrong.


    I expected Shanks to appear from the side - if from behind, he''d be in the line of fire of his minions - and I was right. The problem, however, was that he appeared exactly in the direction I''d rolled.


    ...Or not a problem.


    Since the target was so close, I hit him with the butt of my gun. If those bells could jingle, I suppose it would be loud.


    Shanks crouched, his knees buckling, but not only did he teleport again before I could fire, he didn''t even make a sound.


    Gunshots rumbled from all sides. Lily would have to deal with this on her own - I''d have to survive...


    My shield immediately lost a few hitpoints, but to my relief, no one had any electric weapons... oh, no, they did. The electroshotgun, and don''t ask me how it works, caused the robot bear to be enveloped in a network of lightning - but contrary to the tropes, Pandora''s robots are not at all vulnerable to electrocution, so my partner''s "active ability", practically ignoring the shot, swung its paw, breaking the weapon and opening the bandit''s armor.


    I tried to focus the Thunderer''s fire on the same bandit that Lily was firing at, but it was difficult, given the fire that was being directed at us - I had to run like in fire, and constantly loop around to avoid becoming fried mincemeat, and in such conditions it was hard to maintain any kind of fire, let alone aimed fire.


    Difficult, but not impossible. And an additional motivation was the dire need to reduce the number of opponents who proved too professional and dangerous before they crushed the bear; after that, the situation would be even more in their favor.


    The robot''s first relatively successful attack was just that, relatively successful; the wound was not fatal, and the bandit replaced the broken weapon with a new one. But there was a hole in his armor, and as soon as I had the opportunity, I took it, firing a bullet into the target.


    Not with a machine gun. Running with it is uncomfortable, and the accuracy, alas, leaves much to be desired, and I had moments in this mad scramble only for single shots. Surely I''m in a shooter and not some kind of souls-like game...?


    Anyway, the revolver was also pretty heavy, had a hefty recoil, and looked somewhat archaic, but in terms of killing power, Jacobs has little competition. I didn''t really hit the hole - Jacobs'' accuracy was good, but it wasn''t perfect - but it was enough to cause the bandit to jerk, losing his balance, and catching first a few fire bullets from Lily''s SG, and then hit from a clawed robopaw, which this time blew half his skull off.


    Alas, the bear was also hit; a shower of sparks erupted from its armor, and it was mangled.


    The eyes of the "beast" lit up red, and he fell on four legs and in one leap was next to the big man who covered him with an automatic rifle; I think he missed a little. The bandit immediately fired another round at the robot, shattering it further, but the robot, ignoring the damage and flying parts, pounced on the enemy and exploded.


    And another explosion immediately followed... or rather, a series of them. Lily''s Firestorm almost hit me, but it covered me from the fire coming at me, and I took the opportunity to fire a couple bullets at the dude with the electric shotgun who try to finish the girl off. She, in turn, launched several grenades at once, turning a fair portion of our arena into a fiery inferno, but... I barely made it in time. The sniper, who had finished my turret, took aim at the girl who had risen into the air on a broomstick.


    ...But immediately switched to me, because naturally my shot was not fatal.


    I''m not Mordecai, I''m no sniper duelist. I''m a simple man, but I also have grenades - I borrowed them from my partner.


    The grenade, or rather modifier, was the same one I used against the guardian on the island; an electric AoE DoT. The sniper, seeing me swing it, tried to scurry off to the side, out of range, but....


    ...I could say it was a clever ricochet miscalculation, but I''ll be honest with myself: I just missed. "Basic military training" didn''t really go into throwing.


    In any case, the grenade bounced off the wall and landed next to the bandit who had chosen the wrong direction to retreat, and the next moment he was a lightning rod.


    I was forced to look away from my partner, but her maniacal laughter told me she was doing... well... okay? Uh, I''ll take that as a yes.


    I tossed another grenade into the outline of the enemy behind the fading fire from Lily''s grenades, and added the rest of the bullets from the revolver''s AB...


    ...Shit.


    The whip whipped around my shield, knocking out most of it, and the rest was immediately knocked away by a bullet that burned my side with pain. The pain was moderate, but there was definitely a hole in me.


    I switched back to Thunderer and fired a round... just in time, the teleporter-Shunk that had appeared nearby spun around and interrupted his own attack. Covered himself with a shield, despite the small size of that... damn, it attracts bullets. And based on game logic...


    ...I knew it. It''s a good thing my body starts to act before I even think about it: the bullets caught by the shield came hurtling back in my direction, with noticeably reduced velocity and damage, but still.


    Shanks disappeared again, and I turned and fired the rest of the bullets at his henchman, seeing him appear underneath Lily.


    - Lily, from below! - I shouted, hastily reloading. "Witch" immediately performed a bomber waggle, and Shanks, instead of teleporting, just ran away; cooldown, probably.


    The bandit with the electric shotgun started to reload as well, but I got there before he did. A short burst, and the weapon flew out of his hands; he roared and lunged at me with a big knife.


    The man was clearly bigger than me, but I had a shovel. Well, i didn''t use it now, but still.


    Before the big four-cornered shield materialized in his other hand, I emptied my AB again. The man managed to dodge some of the bullets - he was a bit slow on the uptake, yes - but not all of them. And even the fact that the shield had time to digitally build up didn''t save him: the wounded legs I was aiming at didn''t hold the body, and then I rushed to him, using his body and shield to cover from bullets and electrocution.


    Also - headshot - it gave me a couple seconds to start digitizing.


    Shanks appeared in my field of vision, and I reflexively threw a grenade at him with my free hand... damn.


    ...Huh? His shield didn''t catch it. Cooldown, or does it only work with bullets? Either way, the boss and the mini-Tesla tower were connected by a lightning bolt, but in the next second, despite the paralyzing effect of the electrocution, Shanks teleported again. Strong man...


    I was stung with pain again; this time in my shoulder. I felt a slight numbness, but my arm still worked.


    Which was immediately important, as I caught the whip swing and swung the shovel away. The tip of Shanks'' unconventional weapon hit the working surface of the blade sensitively, knocking out a sheaf of sparks that nearly blinded me, and I tossed the grenade again... not just me. Lily did, too.


    Alas, there was no victim in the chaos of fire and lightning: he teleported away again.


    The bandit with the fire SG was less fortunate. The grenades didn''t kill him, but the bullets did the trick.


    Apart from the elusive boss, there was only one enemy left in the arena, who had changed his weapon to a strange-looking checkered machine gun firing large-caliber explosive bullets. Poor accuracy was not a problem for him, as the rapid fire and explosions made up for it.


    ...I never expected them and my turret to take each other out.


    The lone remaining boss, however, was not only not going to give up, but also demonstrated that he was the boss for a reason: he was probably a more problematic opponent than the previous six. His constant teleportations made it hard to get a good aim on him, and when he did get a chance, his shield was a problem. And he could catch grenades, but there was a risk of them exploding in close proximity, which this device didn''t save him from.


    ...Shooting in the back was mean, but effective. Well, seven on two isn''t exactly a model of valor either.


    However, Lily was definitely not bothered by such trivialities.


    - This. Was. Cool - she informed, crouching down beside the body and pulling the whip out of his hand. - Every girl should have a whip, and I like this one.

 Oh, women...

    "Locked Palace" was a large complex, and it took a lot of searching to find the informant-arrestee we was looking for. And even after the local boss was killed, there were still enemies, so I had to stay vigilant.


    There was also a strange feeling on the edge of my mind, like something was wrong. Like I''d forgotten something.


    I stopped and looked at Lily.


    - Listen, do you get that feeling that something''s missing?


    - You mean Mr. Artie? - The girl asked. - He''s in the process of recovering.


    "Mr. Artie", from Rip&Tear, she called her robot bear. The process of rebuilding him is by no means instantaneous even with digitalization, though I''m not sure why it''s taking so long.


    - No, I don''t mean him - I shook my head negatively, making a gesture to step away from the door before opening it and checking the room... empty. - Hmm, a persistent feeling that I''d forgotten something.


    - Is the kettle on the stove? - Lily suggested. - Feed the cat? Dailies in game? Pay the mortgage?


    I shuddered.


    - Nah, something far less scary.


    I stopped and made a big, resounding, helmet-shaking facepalm.


    - ...We''d forgotten Jim.


    At least it didn''t take long to get back to the "boss arena." Getting down the mercenary, who looks at us reproachfully, was a bit more difficult.


    Several of the prisoners we found in the cells were not the ones we needed. One psycho had to be shot at once, because he threw himself at us as soon as we opened the door, with others... it was different. For example, one psycho drew a circle on the floor in his cell with his own blood, and Lily spent some time pointing out all the mistakes he''d made; the prisoner listened attentively, nodded, then thanked us and closed the door. From the inside.


    All that would have been fine, but that was where I finally got the next level.


    I wouldn''t have been surprised to hear "Nobody, no one..." coming from the right cell, but this wasn''t Space Balls after all. Our target didn''t sing, but still made himself immediately known as we approached.


    - Hey, you''re not Shanks'' people or Atlasians, are you? - came from a barred cell up ahead. - Moxie''s mercenaries.


    I took a closer look at the speaker. The voice sounded nothing like the informant''s, and it was clearly female.


    - Yeah, well - whoever it was, I didn''t see the point in hiding who we were, even if I wasn''t exactly a Moxie mercenary. - Who are you?


    - A, your informant - said a woman in a black, tight suit that looked like an under armor. Modern armor uses them too, and from the looks of her, she hadn''t been using it as her primary garment for long. - I used a voice synthesizer to mask my identity.


    - Do we know each other, dearie? - Jim asked. The mercenary frowned, studying the woman.


    - ...We''ve crossed paths - the woman admitted after a brief pause. She sighed, and explained:


    - Atlas, Omega Squad.


    "Athena, deserter. Changed outfit, style, and lifestyle," - the ECHO reported with a slight delay.


    Jim slammed his fist on his palm.


    - So that''s where Shanks got that stuff!


    I raised an eyebrow. Given the rumors, personal teleporters use... Oh.


    - A deserter? - I inquired. The woman visibly gritted her teeth.


    - It''s personal.


    - Personal is personal - I shrugged. - Let''s get you out of here.


    - What about my stuff? - The lady asked. Quite a nice face, by the way, and a very nice figure. In general, I think women in this world are luckier than men - most of the ugly mutations are due to genome problems in men, sirens are women, and there are very few ugly women (outwardly ugly). Men, however, tend to be much tougher and stronger.


    - What kind of strength? - I inquired.


    - Aspis... a round shield, I mean, and a personal teleporter. Shanka took them.


    Oh, so the whip isn''t hers.


    - I have them - I reported, retrieving a pair of wire cutters from storage. I estimated the thickness of the bars, put them back, and pulled out a small circular saw based on the Wave disk. I was hoping to work out the defenses on her equipment and use it myself, but I guess I''ll have to give it back to the mistress - we need her information and help. - I''ll give it back when I''m sure you can be trusted.


    A brief conversation with Moxie and an exchange of information confirmed that we''d found just the right person, so I gave the lady back her equipment. She didn''t need it, though, not yet - though she was clearly relieved to have it back. Well, I''d be pretty nervous on Pandora without a turret and a gun, too.


    She didn''t get a gun, though, though I was willing to share one of the trophies, but I wasn''t in a hurry to offer one myself. The location was already mostly cleared. Although...


    - Are you aware of the local boss''s stash, by any chance? - I asked. The lady shook her head negatively. It''s a pity, but expected.


    She began to outline her plans on the way out.


    - Although the Crimson Lance has just arrived, they are pro, and the security system is already working, though not at full strength yet. And that "not at full strength" provides a window of opportunity. "The Crimson Lance is an elite, but as an elite, they have... shall we say, certain liberties, or rather opportunities for willfulness. There are those who can get something from the outside, or go AWOL on a regular basis. I know one of them, extremely good at penetrating and overcoming security systems, but he''s more of a theorist, and, let''s say, likes to put his talent into practice for peaceful purposes.


    - And we can use it for our own - I said. The girl nodded.


    - Exactly. You need to catch him and convince him to share the method he uses to go AWOL and return unnoticed. He''s good at what he does, but cowardly, and not a big Atlas patriot, so I don''t expect much trouble. A mixture of threats and bribery should work, but don''t let him escape.


    - We''ll do it - Jim nodded.


    On the way back, I decided to check the cell of the psycho with the bloody circle, but it was empty; the prisoner had obviously escaped while we were gone, leaving his tattered prison clothes in the cell.


    ...I want to believe it, but this is Pandora.


    ...We''re not out of bandits after all. A couple dozen thugs were waiting for us before we left the Locked palace (Athena helped us open it; I had a suspicion that she had lied about not knowing about the stash and intended to return later and loot it herself, but there was no proof of that).


    Fortunately, I was careful, and the few bullets that came at me didn''t hit me as well as the rest of the group, and we retreated out of range to prepare to break the siege.


    Well, retreated... Athena rushed forward with determination, covered by her shield.


    I mentally chuckled, and fired several stacks of Wave disks from behind her back, emptying the AB.


    As it immediately turned out, the woman didn''t need much support. Her shield familiarly caught the hail of bullets fired at her and returned them to the senders because of the recipient''s unwillingness to accept the package. In the next second Athena disappeared and appeared next to the big man standing at the edge of the crowd; the shield swung, and the bandit''s hand flew off, showering the ground with blood, while the woman intercepted the fallen weapon - with her other hand throwing the shield, whose circumference of curved blades sprang out in petals, into the crowd. The circular device that had been turned into a circular saw swept away a few heads and made a run for it back to her mistress, who used her freed hand to hold the disarmed big man, using it instead of a shield, and from behind that cover opened fire with his shotgun.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.    "Assassin Athena. Yeah, she''s really killer women," - the ECHO reported again.


    All in all, I was sure she was quite capable of handling herself, but still continued to support her. And when the rest of the group joined us... That was quick.


    Four people our car definitely couldn''t carry, but Athena wasn''t about to go with us anyway. She shared information, promised to continue to support us, but she was going to act on her own (which once again hinted at her desire to clean out Shanks'' stash without us). I was tempted to point out that her attempts at independent action had led to a jail cell, but I managed to restrain myself. Especially since it could happen to anyone.


    Leaving Athena to pick up a car from the rest of the bandits, we headed towards a place called "WBB", an acronym for "The World''s Biggest Bullet". It brings back memories of watching old American movies with similar sights in small towns in the backwoods - "Biggest tire in the world, biggest wiener in the world"... Just like kids, man.


    Anyway, we were driving towards this locality, where the AWOL master mentioned by Athena was checking in now and then for some business of his own - the woman didn''t know if he had a woman there, or just appreciates the local alcohol - when...


    "Emergency all-planetary message," - the ECHO reported. - "Turning on the broadcast."


    My partners'' ECHOs turned on as well, playing the same female voice.


    - This is Helga Steele, representative of the Atlas Corporation and the new commandant of this asshole planet. Atlas has come here, Atlas is bringing order, so there are now three populations: Atlas forces, civilians who follow orders, and the dead. The first group is not being recruited yet, so choose from the next two. Attempting to enter restricted areas, disobeying orders, interfering with Atlas forces, and anything else along those lines automatically puts you in the third category. Oh, and one more thing: for the duration of the special operation to pacify and restore order, we are disabling access to the ECHO network, except for further instructions from the planetary administration. Helga Steele, stand down.


    "Access to the ECHOnet has been lost," added my communication device, no longer a communication device. The ECHO doesn''t communicate directly, it''s all through the network, so we''re cut off.


    - That sucks - Jim said. - It''ll be harder without communications.


    "Incoming message, recipient: Angel."


    I accepted it, and a familiar hologram image appeared in augmented reality.


    - Although Commandant Steele has disabled normal access, I still have some of my capabilities, so I can at least help you with communications - she informed me. I sighed; my doubts about the obviously suspicious AI hadn''t gone away, but I really needed the connection.


    - It will indeed come in handy - I agreed.


    "Permission is requested to add a new communication protocol," the ECHO reported.


    I don''t like this one. Maybe let her put it on Jim''s ECHO?.. I thought about it.


    "Permission granted automatically," the ECHO said treacherously. - "Message received, sender: AlBa." "Don''t worry, she won''t screw you over this time."


    That''s comforting. Seriously.


    My partners were clearly not troubled by such doubts, and soon communication was restored... well, as restored - in a narrow circle of users of the new protocol.


    Still, it expanded our possibilities, and allowed us to get up to date with the latest news. And the news, it should be noted, was not brilliant.


    Despite my efforts, Atlas forces managed to take over Tannis. They ran an archaeology quiz show with big prizes, and in the end, our mad scientist didn''t even fall for the money - she showed up at the filming location to give the organizers her strong opinion on the wrong answers that were counted as correct.


    It''s a madhouse. Or rather, Pandora. It''s quieter in a madhouse, there''s less shooting.


    In any case, the group of protagonists searching for the Vault, while I was dealing with local problems, did not waste time either. They managed to negotiate with the normal, independent settlers of Pandora - yes, there are civilians who don''t want the corporate government to return - and were planning an operation to get Tannis out while countering the occupying forces when the latter had trouble with the communications blackout. However, Moxie assured us that the latter was solvable, and in general - the guys and the girl were doing fine "on the other side", and we had to do our job here. Which, in fact, we continued to do.


    As it was in an anecdote, on a completely different occasion - "You''ll laugh, but...". No, our target didn''t die before we got there.


    But almost.


    Anyway, just to keep it short. He went AWOL to his woman''s house and tried to protect her from the bandits. By the time we arrived, he and his girlfriend were in a small bar building, and together with a couple of other customers he was trying to fight off a couple dozen bandits, who were not expecting a stab in the back. There was an unpleasant moment when two of their buggies showed up, but a lucky shot from the Nutcracker took out one car and our turret took out the other.


    - In general, Atlas can get either an imitation of your corpse in a pile of bandit corpses, or your real corpse - said Jim. - Take your pick.


    - Plus I can offer you a job, and a place to hide for the near future - I added. An impromptu "good mercenary-kind mercenary," since Jim is definitely good at what he does.


    The guy, quite young, glanced at Jim, at me, at Lily, at his girlfriend - comparing him...? He sighed.


    - I''m an honest Atlas soldier, and I will not say anything and will not give in!...


    Jim reached for his knife, and he added hastily:


    - But I seem to have lost my backup ECHO with valuable information during the firefight. And the annoying thing is that it''s got a simple basic DNA-based defense and a code word that''s obviously not "Gladiolus," because noone would put "Gladiolus" as a code word.


    - What a shame he doesn''t want to crack - I remarked. - Looks like his superiors won''t even get a whole body.


    Identifiers, access keys, security protocols... a veritable lockpick to the Crimson Citadel''s security system. With this wealth, we basically don''t have to worry about automatic defenses until the system is updated, and the scheduled update is due in five days. I''d say it''s all suspiciously convenient, but if this world is based on a game, it all makes sense. I''m not sure, though, that it can be entirely relied upon, but... not that there''s much choice. My motto is "Caution and Discretion", not "Courage and Stupidity", but there''s no room for a representative of the Vladoff under the Atlas Protectorate. I won''t even be able to escape, most likely. So let''s just go for it, all the way.


    And the Crimson Lance treasury. Money is money, after all.

 Interlude: B & B.

    We had to go through fire, water, and brass thrumpets... well, or rather prison and wallet to get our hands on key information that could provide access to the enemy''s citadel. We were ready. And finally, after all the shooting and fighting--


    - we sat in a bar and drank.


    Well, "drank" is a strong exaggeration. There was some alcohol on the table, but the bottle of whiskey remained mostly untouched, and most of the alcohol in our bodies was there with cupcakes and candy.


    Here were the rest of the bar patrons celebrating the bandits'' demise thoroughly, with face salad and drunk tears. We''d locked the infiltration specialist in his girlfriend''s cabin for now, with food and booze to spare, so they had other options for entertainment.


    I glanced over at Lily studying the foam in her coffee cup and then taking notes. Nah.


    I glanced at Jim, who had molded little men out of bread and was now biting their heads off with obvious gloating satisfaction. No comment.


    Man, I''m the only sane person here.


    - Well, and you, maybe - I muttered, filling a couple shots. Robo-Bear carefully accepted his with a pair of claws, nodding appreciatively, the turret had no hands, so just nodded, soaking up the machine oil. By the way, it was not something used on Earth at all, this was as different from it as a cartridge block was from a clip. Well, or from a magazine. Pandorian "machine oil" is actually a suspension of repair nanites, and it''s a rare and inexpensive thing these days, since it''s easier to use digital repair, but our mechanical friends deserve it.


    One of the bar patrons gave me a strange look.


    ...Actually, this is the second day we''ve been stuck in this bar.


    The reason is that Moxie suggested, and Roland, habitually assuming the role of commander of a small "rebel army", agreed, that we should coordinate our actions for maximum effect. Simply put, our attack on the Citadel would have to take place at about the same time as Roland''s forces attacked the ECHOnet control center and the facility where Tannis was being held, so as not to be able to send reinforcements and possibly break the enemy''s morale. More precisely, first Roland returns normal communications and pulls out the quest archaeologist, and we cause trouble for Crimson Lance, and then the Pandorian militia launches a coordinated strike on the headquarters of the "planetary commandant''s office". In my opinion, we''re just saving Atlas the headache: the Dahl were smarter than that, and got off that crazy planet on their own for a reason. But Atlas is kind of a last hope operation, though. More like last hopelessness, even.


    Either way, until Moxie gives the signal - tomorrow at best - we have downtime. "Hurry up and wait," as Roland hummed. The army, it never changes... At least with different corporations, even when you''re not in the army at all.


    Anyway, we occupied the bar, and were doing... important things. Yeah. That''s what my testimony will be if they question me.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.    I''d gotten a new skill point from the last fight, and now the question was where to put it. Defense against electrical attacks? Damage enhancement? Improved assembling? Choices, choices...


    Given the upcoming case, I was leaning towards upgrading Field Medic or Assembling, but everything else was tempting too.


    ...Eh, okay. Since I''m not working alone, I''ll invest in medicine rather than industry or defense.


    - When you sew on limbs, the arms must be on top and the legs on the bottom, no other way! I realize it''s fun, but ammunition is designed for a specific setup of users, and commanders complain too.


    - Old man Olaf sings odes to medical glue, but you can glue a cute babe together without it, but you can only do cute, cheerful, uplifting embroidery with good thread...


    Uh... Medicine is scary, and power.


    ...Well, at least now I can take care of the seriously wounded and even the dying.


    And not just with a bullet.


    What should a hero (well, or at least a protagonist) relaxing after a case be most afraid of? Sudden sidequests, obviously. No, they are useful, but you need to rest too, no matter what AlBa writes. So our table was adorned with a sign that read "Angry drunken mercenaries, stay away!" and a few empty bottles. Jim looked at the sign once, raising an eyebrow, but ignored it, and Lily asked if she could have it as a souvenir. Well, I''m not greedy, I even suggested asking the four Vault Seekers to sign it - it would make a really nice souvenir.


    - Hmm. We have a young beauty, two strong men, and time to fill - Lily said. - Do you see where I''m going with this?


    - Why don''t we get a room? - Jim suggested it.


    - We can do it right here, on the table - said the girl. - Just make room.


    With these words she slipped her hand into her cleavage.


    - Wow, these are... gorgeous - the mercenary said with admiration, and I agreed with him: the miniatures on the table were really good.


    Board games... no, just games on Pandora, or rather in this world - something with something. "Jumanji" is not a surprise to anyone here: such things are on sale.


    In the here and now, however, we were chopping into "Bunkers and Badasses", a popular franchise, on "fast rules without immersion". At first glance, it was just a regular board game, with a game board, dice rolls, and stuff like that. In fact, it was a whole little virtual world: when the pieces hit the square of battle, that''s exactly what happened, in automatic mode, but we could watch the action through a virtual screen and give our characters commands. Oh, and the characters, in this game, were simulations of ourselves - or rather, simulations based on the data Lily had collected, which had an effect: I''d seen my character pull out a spellbook a couple times when he thought no one was watching.


    It was more fun to play that way, though.


    - Your character is cheating - Jim said.


    - Yup - I agreed. - He''s really good.

 Moms recipe, or Leave Nothing Behind.

    - I''ve been kidnapped three times - Jim muttered. I nodded. - And there have been five attempted rapes.


    - At least you''re popular - I remarked. - And most of the time it was women.


    - But one time it was a skag - Jim grumbled.


    - That was a female, too - Lily interjected.


    - That''s comforting - the mercenary said sarcastically. - Admit it honestly, did you tweak the game?


    - Shall I throw down the logs? - The girl offered, and he nodded after a small pause. For a while we drove in silence, then we heard a surprised "Huh..."


    In my opinion, we had played very well, and this session had pointed out the obvious again - even though Pandora looks like some kind of post-apocalypse, or at best a wild frontier (which it is), I was living in a very technologically advanced setting.


    If only i wouldn''t have to reload guns manually yet...


    In fact, I''m tempted to save up some money, blow it all off, and go somewhere closer to civilization. Maybe even take a trip to find Earth.


    Alas, I don''t think AlBa will let me do that, at least not until we find the Vault. But it''s certainly an interesting idea.


    Hmm. I''m looking at Lily.


    - You don''t have any travel recommendations, do you? - I asked. The girl nodded readily, and -


    "Incoming message with attached file, addressee - Lily Rose."


    ...Of course, what could I expect. "The lost city of Magnajabuki, home of the occult order Abbar-Kadabar", "The underground settlement of a tribe of demon worshippers", "The village of witches", "Genuine Eridian ruins", "Anomalous Site A"... Oh, and there I was. Or rather, "my character" was.


    ...Huh. Am I not myself a character in someone''s party in Bunkers & Badasses...?


    I shook my head, getting rid of that creepy thought twisting my brain into a closed spiral. In fact, am I too distracted, or too relaxed? We''re on a very dangerous mission.


    - By the way... Are you not too young to go out against a megacorporation, and even in such a small group? - I asked Lily. The girl looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Well, yes, i could have asked her earlier... - No, we''re only going up against them now, that''s why I''m asking now.


    - In order to be successful, you should start gaining experience as early as possible - she said. - Speaking of which, sempai. When did you start?


    - "Sempai?" - Jim interjected. - Well, I started pretty late. About twelve.


    - My first real combat experience was at fifteen - I muttered, fishing out my character''s memories. - But not against megacorps, and as part of a company.


    - And against whom? - Lily wondered. I thought of the statute of limitations, the range modifier, the Markov factor... it turned out that I didn''t have to worry about secrecy.


    - Toy conspiracy - I reported. - I participated in the beginning of the First Toy Plot, and went through the entire Third. During the Second, I took additional training, then retraining, then re-retraining, and then qualification confirmation.


    I shrugged my shoulders.


    - Sometimes bureaucratic messes can be useful.


    We were silent; each of us seemed to be thinking about something else. Images of fire, explosions, and brightly colored plastic flashed before my mind''s eye.


    I glanced at "Mr. Artie." Even though the plushies were our allies, it was their makers who had made that pot of gruel. Competition, my ass.


    - Anyway, if you want to participate, you''ll take sniper support.


    The girl grimaced, but nodded. As I could see, she had a decent, even good, sniper skills - she just didn''t like it. She preferred close, or rather almost-close, combat with SG and grenades. In general, the best sniper of us is Jim, but given all the circumstances, it is better to change roles. The mercenary agreed with me.


    We were going to split up and attack the roadblock from different directions. Blow up the gate with a grenade launcher, then Jim would fire from the vehicle turrel if possible, and me and Lily and our techno support would, well, support. Maybe Athena, if she actually shows up - she promised, but I wasn''t really counting on it - will wreak havoc inside with her teleportation.


    ...However, no plan survives a collision with reality.


    This time, however, the surprise was a pleasant one.


    - Dude, I told you guys I had a cool car, and I made it. Scooter keeps his word! - said the mechanic with a certain pride.


    We visited Scooter through the fast-travel station, first of all to get an EMP suppressor for Atlas'' communications. For a new car with improved defenses, too, but... I didn''t expect to see THIS.


    None of us did.


    - If our department had a monster like this back in the day... - I muttered.


    Scooter shook his head negatively.


    - No, I have the Monster in the neighboring garage, if you want, you can take it. And this car I called Anti-Lancer... well, or just Lancer, if you like. That''s the short of it.


    What we were looking at was a real APC. Or rather, a custom version of a APC; smaller in size, and with so much armor... huh.


    - Is that from the armored skags? - I asked, patting my hand on the armor plate attached to the hull. They made the APC look scaly.


    - Yup - Scooter agreed. - It''s heavy, though. But strong, like... - he hesitated, - ...something very strong.


    - Mamma mia, heavy plasma cannon! - Jim said admiringly as he climbed up to the turret. - And a pulse plasma projector!


    - And a minesweeper, too - Scooter said happily. - The best of Mom''s stockpile. But I''ll tell you right away, it''s a slow juggernaut. Too much armor and weapons.


    In my opinion, this car should be called "Rhinoceros", not "Lancer" (the obstacles are not his problem, it''s of obstacles), but I didn''t insist. There was even less interior space in this pile of armor than it seemed, and the speed also related to the Rhino, but armor and firepower... Lancer was quite able to compete with corporate tanks, even medium. Mass class, not elite, but still.


    In fact, real tanks are rarely used by coprorats: it''s more profitable to rivet expendable robots or to fill up with expendable meat. But they do use them at times, especially the Vladoff again; we like big armored vehicles. Anyway, I had something to compare it to, and the Lancer was... well, pretty good.


    And its armament was honed for the job in front of it.


    The low speed of the armored vehicle and the open terrain didn''t allow us to appear suddenly, but we didn''t need to: the trophy identification codes allowed us to get closer without raising the alarm early. And then the Lance fighters didn''t have that option anymore.


    The directional pulse of the electromagnetic jammer not only cut off the Atlas soldiers'' communications, but also disabled some of their equipment, including most of the cameras and autoturrets. And then the Lancer''s plasma cannon and machine gun opened fire.


    Our plasma cannon was quite similar in action to the large-caliber version of the Eridian guards'' weapons, considerably slower, but powerful too. Finally, in this fantastic setting, I was able to see (or rather, use) fantastic weapons - not usual absurd ones.


    ...If the Wave wasn''t so effective, I would have gotten rid of it, just so it wouldn''t break my brain.


    The plasma ball made a hole the size of a soccer ball; the metal balls from the Gauss machine gun finished the job, causing one leaf of the thick metal gate to fall to the ground. A hand machine gun rumbled from one of the turrets - the large-caliber turrets had been knocked out by the EMP - but the skag armor held the attack with negligible ease, judging by my ECHO''s readout of our buggy''s durability.


    ...And then one of the Lancemen used a grenade launcher.


    With the speed of our Lancer it was absolutely impossible to dodge, and it was impossible to shoot a rocket-propelled grenade from a machine gun with its low accuracy. However -


    The rocket-propelled grenade (and several hand grenades) were about ten meters away when the pulse plasma projector went off.


    Not quite a BFG, yes. But close enough.


    A wave of blue... something mixed with scattered lightning bolts rushed from under the bottom of the Lancer, causing the fine debris around it to scatter into dust.


    The grenades detonated.


    The armored vehicle shuddered slightly, but that was all.


    And then we burst into the roadblock.


    Jim wheeled the truck, and after a plasma burp, the Lancer''s ass spewed mines, as if relieved of a constipation. The machine gun continued to fire, heavy plasma pierced the grenade launcher''s shelter, and then the armored vehicle belched another projector pulse, forcing the reactor to overheat, but so far out of the critical zone.


    Fortunately for us, the Lance had no time to equip the roadblock according to all the canons of modern fortification, and most importantly - they did not have time to create a good system of shielding against EMP suppression (or did they decide to save money? Also possible - wilderness, hurry, budget problems). And let''s not forget about the identifier, which allowed us to get close enough to use our electromagnetic trump card.


    Still, we should give the Atlas fighters credit: they held on with everything they had. Exploding mines tore the fortifications to shreds, filling the air with dust, heavy plasma knocked out weapons that were dangerous to us, and the pulse projector simply destroyed everything around them - but the Lancers fired back, and our armor strength bar in the ECHO display was creeping to the left, shrinking in size.


    I wouldn''t have noticed it myself, because I was in charge of the mine-laying machine, so my field of vision was directed in the opposite direction, but the augmented reality automap showed a red dot separating from the checkpoint and flying away at a speed much higher than human speed. Since communication was down, someone had decided to send a courier on the Courier - well, or simply run away.


    The now-familiar hum of heavy plasma, and -


    - the red dot continued to zigzag away.


    - Mjerde! - Jim chimed in. - Again!


    The humming tone began to increase, reflecting the charging plasma, but before the discharge could hit its target, the red dot jerked to the side and stopped.


    What exactly had happened became clear later, after Lily had shot another courier and we had finally cleared the checkpoint: Athena. The Assassiness had been around for some time, waiting for a possible moment when she felt the need to intervene, and it came. Basically, it was exactly the kind of thing she planned to back up against, if the Lancers could send a courier.


    The roadblock had been cleared, and the point of no return had been passed.


    At the defeated roadblock we lingered a bit longer. To look for survivors and trophies, to make sure that the alarm really didn''t go off and to take care of the control check - identifiers and Athena''s knowledge of internal protocols to help - to repair the Lancer''s armor, to check the reactor... Necessary things, even if they make us waste time. But as the saying goes, take care of your weapon and it will take care of you. Lily''s bear will sign up if you give him the right pen.


    - There shouldn''t be many people in the Citadel right now, Steele has taken most of them to capture key points on the planet - Athena reported. The woman had changed into something that concealed her face and figure, and expectedly armed herself, with a monstrous-looking, blue-gray Jacobs shotgun with four barrels. - Most likely there would be a company on duty and a construction battalion.


    I grimaced involuntarily, and Athena clarified:


    - Our... Atlas construction battalion are not such beasts, they are given mediocre weapons, so everything should not be so bad. But there''s a catch.


    Despite the mask, it was noticeable that she grimaced.


    - General Knox. The old man is extremely dangerous, he''s undoubtedly the strongest fighter in Atlas. He''s got tons of battle honors, feats, and awards that aren''t blown, all more than deserved. Ideally, it''s best not to mess with him at all, or at least to conduct some sort of diversion. He''s using a personal mech, and the EMP won''t help you. Access codes too, the hangar is also the general''s personal quarters with a separate security system. Unless you have really heavy weaponry, I can''t even advise you.


    - Pessimistic - Jim said. The woman nodded silently.


    - Hmm... - Lily said, glancing at me; I held up my hands and shook my head, showing that I had no ideas. Unless I got a corrosive grenade launcher. Or more than one.


    - Do we have good corrosives? - I asked.


    - There was something, but nothing outstanding - Jim answered.


    - Hmm... - Lily repeated, and tapped her fingers on her ECHO.


    - Good luck - said Athena and disappeared. Jim went away, too, continuing to look for something to grab for the benefit of himself and the squad as a whole, I returned to repairing the armored car, and Lily settled in the shadow of it, and quietly communicated on the ECHO; I could hear fragments of phrases.


    - ...Anything to recommend? ...the magister can... ...oh, yes... ...okay, but.....


    "Incoming call, caller: unknown (redirected through alternate Angel protocol)."


    - Hello, Mr. Detlove - an image of a woman appeared in front of me; vaguely familiar, but I couldn''t quite put my finger on where I''d seen her. Age... not definite, same like with Moxie, quite beautiful, but, with a certain strangeness. A little bit like Morticia Addams from the old movies. It''s not really a similiar face, but... There''s a kinship, definitely.


    - Hello... I''m not honored to know - I replied.


    - Spikey Thorne Pepper Spice Lupus-Gold - the lady introduced herself. - You can call me Ms. Lupus, or Mrs. Gold.


    I frowned. What kind of weird system is this...? "Mrs." to address a married woman, "Miss" to a free woman, either one or the other. Unless she was a Lupus before marriage and then attached her husband''s last name...?


    I don''t know. You can expect anything from that family.


    - I see. To what do I owe the honor? - I asked.


    - Lily asked me to help you with a little predicament you''re having, so I thought I''d share a family recipe - the woman said. - It helps a lot with pests, especially mechanized and heavily armored ones. However, it is, as said, a family recipe and I would prefer to avoid sharing it. So.


    "Incoming message with a digital contract"


    - you should sign the contract first.


    I ran my eyes over the text. Uh-huh, uh-huh, I see, the usual...


    - No, it doesn''t work like that. It''s missing the clause about free of charge transfer of the soul in perpetual lease - I noticed.


    - Clause 12b - the lady kindly pointed out. I reread the said clause... oh, so it''s not decoration after all, but text.


    That''s how it translates.


    - In which case, I apologize, indeed it does. Which doesn''t change the fact that you''ll have to find another idiot after all. By the way, can you tell me what language that was? Even the ECHO couldn''t pick it up.


    - Ancient Aramaic - Lily''s mom said, still as kindly as ever. - Okay, if you''re not an idiot, here''s the second sentence.


    "Incoming message with digital contract."


    - ...Um, sorry for the personal question, but you didn''t have any demons or devils in your family? - I inquired. The lady smiled.


    If the first option was an offer to be sold into slavery, then the second... well, into it, but with a decent payment. I was even tempted for a second... nah. After all, I had the Main Quest looming over my head, and the Vladoff wouldn''t like that either.


    I sighed.


    - Again, I''m sorry, but not interested.


    However, even that refusal didn''t seem to upset the woman; she merely nodded, and -


    "Incoming message with a digital contract."


    Huh. This option already looks suspiciously low-key and unobliging. Non-distribution and non-transfer of the recipe and the license to use it, confirmation of the agreement Lily and I already had, and the most suspicious part - a promise on my part to consider three requests from the Lupus-Gold family with the highest priority. The suspicious part was that it was just a promise, not something legally binding.


    ...Oh, okay. If it wasn''t legally binding, there was no need to worry.


    - That''s fine - I decided. - But I''m not signing in blood.


    - Personal electronic signatures and legal systems are secure enough to do without it - the lady replied. - Besides, I have good combat lawyers.


    I shuddered, trying not to show it. Combat lawyers are tough. Mix Judge Dredd, a collection agency, and a goddamn dozen demons from the underworld and you get a combat lawyer. I don''t know if there''s anything in the galaxy more unstoppable and unstoppable than these scumbags.


    Sighing once more, I signed my name and opened the archive with the digital construction scheme, chemical formulation, license - and a ready grenade modifier. Huh.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.- Well, thank you for your help - I said. - It''s been, uh, interesting talking to you.


    - I can say the same, Mr. Detlove - the woman replied. - Good luck, and make a video for me, for the family archive.


    The formulation sent by my employer''s slightly infernal mother was a killer chemical cocktail that dissolved most metals in a fun and funky way. Sure, the armor uses composites, and... a lot of stuff, really, but it''s definitely going to be a good asset against armored pests.


    And that''s not an allegory - it''s best to prepare in advance for possible Pandorian critters. You won''t be fully prepared, but still.


    Due to the disconnected ECHOnet there was a little difficulty in acquiring materials - Angel''s options are limited - but Moxie helped to solve it.


    ...The women in this setting are some very... impressive.


    We did come across a couple of small engineering teams of Lancers doing some work, but the means of identification worked well enough to avoid conflict. Exp, sure, but I''m not a maniac to chase it like that. And I sympathize with my colleagues.


    But still.


    - Don''t you think there are too few guards and people in general? - I asked, frowning.


    - We will not retreat in any case - answered Jim.


    - That''s right, too - I sighed.


    As the Crimson Citadel loomed ahead, we regained access to the ECHOnet. Unfortunately, that meant we had to hurry.


    The fact that Lancer had to be left near another bridge didn''t add to my enthusiasm.


    He was standing in the middle of the road smoking a cigar with his helmet open against all safety rules.


    I wouldn''t really call that thing a mech. It was more like a heavy - very heavy - armored combat exoskeleton, about three meters tall. As far as I could tell, its owner, whose only visible feature was a graying head with a patch over one eye, was not a small man himself, about two meters tall.


    "General Knox," reported the ECHO. - "He doesn''t like Mondays, and this one especially..."


    - You''re just in time," the general said gruffly. - I have time to talk a little while I smoke. No, we could start a firefight right away, but you live longer if you smoke, don''t you?


    My ECHO automap showed a few more red dots, but they were over the edge and not moving, so it didn''t look like he was stalling.


    - Why don''t you listen to the esteemed veteran - I said. He nodded and took a drag.


    - Well, let''s start by introducing ourselves. Alphonso Knox, Commander of the Crimson Lance... well, I suppose you know enough about me, if not from Athena, then from the net, part of my service record is in the public domain. Governor General of this fucking cesspool called Pandora, as you might have guessed on your own. And a man who is extremely tired of all this shit, but not so tired that he won''t finish you off one last time.


    - Jim DiGriz, adventurer and mercenary extraordinaire - Jim introduced himself. - Nothing personal, but I prefer Pandora without megacorps. It''s shitty enough as it is, but at least it''s free.


    - Lily Rose Vinegar Sugar Lupus-Gold - the girl, unexpectedly, made a curtsy. - I''m on a quest. You just happened to fall into my lap.


    - Lupus-Gold? - snorted the general. - Your mother shot me in the right leg. Twice. She paid for the treatment of one hole, though.


    - Pyotr Dyatlov - I joined the trend. - Technically, a sales rep for the Vladoff. In fact - free mercenary, private businessman, professional repairman. Problems with coffee makers? Contact us!


    My companions glanced at me; I glanced back at them.


    - What? You should always take advantage of a good publicity opportunity!


    - And the Vault Seeker - hummed the General, ignoring the publicity.


    - Well, in a way - I agreed. - But it''s like a hobby.


    - A hobby is good - agreed Knox and took another drag. - Tell me, how old is your direct superior in Vladoff?


    - Is that a trick question? - Lily interjected. - I like trick questions.


    - No - the general answered briefly, continuing to look at me. I shrugged.


    - Fifty-two, I think.


    - Mine was five - Knox said, sighing heavily.


    - Five tens? - Lily interjected again.


    - No - the general repeated again.


    - Oh. Clannishness and nepotism work wonders - Jim voiced my thoughts. Knox nodded.


    - Athena''s betrayal, Steele''s failure, now this... - he took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at it. - What the fuck am I even doing on this planet?


    I found myself nodding.


    - We all ask ourselves that question on a regular basis, sir - Jim informed me. - Perhaps it could even be called Pandora''s Ultimate Question. Along with "How much ammo do we have left?" and "Is it gonna *gasp*?"


    - Anyway, I was thinking about retiring with a loud slam on the door, but then you showed up - said the general after a short pause, during which we considered Jim''s words and recognized their truth. "So I thought why not do Atlas one last favor. And there''s a chance for a good fight.


    He took another deep puff and tossed the cigar away.


    - Let''s get started.


    The general''s helmet slammed shut, and the three of us immediately darted away. Jim and I threw grenades behind our backs, Lily threw a bear.


    The flashes of a light plasma gun flashed past; the clang of metal against metal let us know that the robo-bear had joined the fight. I reached one of my pre-prepared shelters and ducked behind it amid the clatter of corrosive SG turrets. No wounds, the shield was two-thirds gone, Lily hid behind her own cover and fired at the general from behind it.


    I peeked out for a second and found Knox clutching at an already slightly sparking and smoking Robogrizzly, and clearly overpowering it.


    The sickening thing i discovered is that the general apparently had a shield as well, not just armor.


    The Thunderer chanted his war song, but before the shield strip could show any significant advancement in the desired direction, the Atlasian reacted by flipping off the bear and leaping into the air. Not so much a flight as a jump, accelerated by the jetpack behind his back... significantly accelerated.


    I suppose a direct hit from the two plasma cannons of the Knox that appeared in front of and above me would have fried me on the spot.


    Luckily, Jim had the Big Gun.


    The monster gun from Jacobs, the orange quality gun that bears that name was (officially) just considered a hunting gun. Well, you can hunt tanks too, I suppose...


    The hit threw the general slightly off to the side, knocking the scope off, by jerk allowing me to survive his shot. Unfortunately, he fell to the ground the next second, and his mechsuit sent a wave in all directions reminiscent of the pulse projector from the Lancer.


    Fortunately, many times less powerful and long-range. Even so, one of my turrets stalled, part of the concrete barrier crumbled, and the remnants of my shield waved goodbye.


    Still, I kept firing, letting the machine gun''s palpable recoil throw me away from the enemy, and even maneuvering this peculiar engine slightly. Knox pointed his hands at me again - or rather, his guns - but then a rock (bear?...) and another Big Gun bullet flew into him, along with a scattering of small-caliber corrosive and shock bullets from Lily''s turrets and SGs.


    Break the distance. If I get hit by his pulse gun, it''s gonna be an barbeque, steaming and well fried. We need to take out the shields, then we need to corrode it.


    A plasma discharge passed between my legs, burning the armor and the meat underneath. A mental command, and instead of a corrosive grenade, a tesla grenade appeared in my hand, attached itself to Knox''s shield; immediately, i switch back. Jim''s cannon roared again, but the damage to the shield was nowhere near as high as I would have liked; Lily was actually contributing more now.


    And then a robogrizzly that was accelerating crashed into Knox''s armor.


    Both mechs went tumbling, but Knox immediately rose into the air and fell again, slamming the bear to the ground and adding discharges from his plasma cannons.


    The bear exploded.


    This time, Lily''s robot didn''t last long at all, but his help proved quite valuable. Knox''s shield finally failed, and now I didn''t have to worry about friendly fire; a grenade went off... And another one....


    The General swung back, knocking Lily''s grenade aside so that he was only slightly caught in the spray, but the one I threw hit the hull, on the opposite side of the tesla, which had just stopped emitting lightning.


    Knox wasn''t just swinging away, though. A shot, and Lily''s shield flashed red.


    No way.


    The heavy Thunderer disappeared, replaced by an assault rifle, and I fired... acid, at the armored suit''s arms.


    Lily avoided another direct hit, but even just a close discharge was enough to nullify her shield and shorten her health bar. The girl shrieked.


    "The health" of Knox''s armor, however, was also shrinking, and another grenade caused him to make another reactionary dash, this time to the side - but in the movement he fired again. There wasn''t another hit on Lily, but another turret was down.


    I rushed to the girl; she was now covered by my concrete structure, so there was some safety, but I had to do something about the wound.


    - Not bad for a mercenary - came Knox''s voice. - In that case, let''s get serious.


    A siren sounded, and the red dots outside of the minigraph came into motion.


    Shit.


    Problems, however, must be solved as they come, and under the sound of shots of the remaining two turrets and Jim''s gun, I crouched near the unconscious girl, assessing her condition.


    Huh. Her dress is armor. The lace and fringe on the surface had burned away, exposing not at all a girlish body, but a black, slightly smoking, tight material. Electroshock, short-term paralysis, burns, not serious condition, she''ll recover soon, but we don''t have that "soon," so I pressed the bracelet of the auto-aid kit against her neck.


    I''m surprised she doesn''t have her own.


    The time spent on the girl was enough for the battlefield to undergo some changes. A couple of Crimson Lance fighters, who had come from wherever, were engaged in a firefight with Jim, another was setting up a turret, and the fourth... was field repairing Knox''s armor. Holy mother of engineering medicine.


    I launched my own turret; Lily hissed, and I pinned her to the ground, keeping her below the barrier. And then fired as well, choosing the Nutcracker this time.


    Whoa. The engineer with the turret exploded spectacularly and his pet followed; success. I shifted my aim to the "medic", but this time the explosion didn''t work; he did fall down, however, hit by Jim''s shot. I shot at one of the remaining soldiers and immediately crouched down to reload... just in time: plasma flew over my head.


    Rise, fire, crouch, repeat. Another soldier exploded; lucky day, it''s not every day you get to blow up two almost in a row.


    Lily fired again, and I barely had time to pull her from where a patch of melted sand immediately formed.


    There are two things with guns in this setting that I just don''t understand. The first is the manual reloading. The second is the incredibly poor accuracy of rocket-propelled grenade launchers. We''re in the fucked up far future, so why the fuck do these fucked up things always go fucked up?


    And yet, when the familiar pipe appeared in Lily''s hands, her counterpart appeared in mine.


    Imagine my surprise when I realized that my rocket-propelled grenade was exactly on target, exactly where it was supposed to go.


    ...But it didn''t hit it, not one or the other. Knox used exactly the same trick we used on the Lancer: a plasma projector pulse. His men were already dead, and friendly fire was no threat to them, but the grenades were in range.


    At least the general was caught in the blast wave, causing him to stagger, and I immediately fired a second and final rocket-propelled grenade. I''ll put it on Lily''s bill, they''re freakishly expensive.


    The girl, who didn''t care much about the price, repeated after me, and I switched back to the corrosive, at the same time launching the digitizer with it, and immediately to the shotgun.


    And just in time, too, as Knox made another dash for it. If it hadn''t been for my oncoming shot, he would have rammed Lily and me, but as it was, he smashed our cover.


    The girl and I rushed in different directions, tossing grenades. My left arm flared with pain and went limp; it was good that I could still feel it, but the way the left side of my body twitched wasn''t good. No fire from Jim''s side, but the turrets stepped in for their boss, continuing to pick at enemy already damaged armor.


    Lily threw at the general... Not a grenade. A bottle, with a "handmade," as far as digitally constructed, "mom''s recipe" concoction.


    The Knox hand cannon that the vial shattered against melted, and exploded before my eyes. And I immediately retrieved my own bottle from the ECHO vault.


    This infernal mixture was far less convenient to throw than a grenade capable of partial targeting, and it had no explosion whatsoever. Plus it was almost useless against a shielded target - but Knox''s armor, as tough as it was (and it was, judging by the scratches left by the Big Gun), held it up to almost nothing.


    The main thing was to keep the spray off us.


    Both of Knox''s hand cannons were out of action, but he simply kicked Lily, throwing her a dozen meters away; the girl fell and froze again. He turned and lunged at me, no jet propulsion, but still fast; kicked, and I flew away, too.


    It hurts, but I manage to get up and throw the "ordinary" corrosive; or rather, on the contrary, throw and then get up. Switching the auto-pharmacy mode to a more optimal one made the pain recede a bit, and even my left arm moved.


    Four more soldiers appeared at the gate to the Citadel; Knox ran toward them. I rushed toward the grenade launcher that had fallen out of Lily''s hands like a three-legged turtle that wanted to live.


    Though her gun was better than mine, it wasn''t as accurate as mine.


    But it was good enough.


    The grenade exploded on the ground, between the two engineers who had rushed to help the bosses and the boss himself. The bullet from the sniper behind me made another hole in me; I let the grenade launcher out of my hands.


    And replaced it with a Nutcracker with one bullet in the AB.


    Two soldiers were aiming at me. I aimed at one of them.


    Explosion. And another hole.


    I fell, knocked down by the recoil of my own rifle. My leg was shot, but I was able to sit up and materialize the assault rifle.


    An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a foot for a foot.


    Two explosions in a row affected the general''s balance in a bad way, and my shots - sensitively recoiling even despite the work of the auto-pharmacy - did not improve his situation at all. Still, unlike me, he was able to get up.


    - There''s nothing to shoot with - I grumbled gloatingly.


    ...Fucking dramatic irony.


    On the body of the armor, in the area of the chest, opened a niche, from which stuck out not large, but quite decent barrel.


    *uck.


    The grenade modifier "with teleport", trophyed at the checkpoint, was really shitty: white quality, low efficiency, in addition there was no normal targeting system - you had to set the target manually. It was just a trophy to sell for cheap.


    But there it was. And i also had a mentally controlled ECHO.


    The barrel on the armored mech was still extending when the grenade appeared in my hand - and disappeared again.


    And reappeared again, this time right in front of the barrel.


    The explosion didn''t turn the gun around as I''d hoped. But it did enough, creating a hiccup, and preventing Knox from noticing what I had noticed.


    Jim, who had dropped out of the fight some time ago, had not escaped or died. The mercenary was wounded and crawling, but he was only wounded, and he was moving, moving closer to the enemy.


    And a bottle appeared in his hands.


    Acid with the clinking of glass doused the armored man''s leg, and it buckled under his weight, forcing him to fall.


    And then Jim threw the usual corrosive.


    - Fucking planet - Knox wheezed.


    - At least you didn''t run into Claptrap - I wheezed.


    - Agreed - Jim wheezed.


    - So this is where I''m going to die...? At least it was a good fight - Knox said. - And while you''re at it... If you survive, give Atlas Command I hate them. And a bullet.


    - Will be done - Jim replied, and fired into the hole in the armor.


    The commander''s death didn''t mean we were safe, but our disabled team couldn''t even move. Lily was still alive, but unconscious, I couldn''t get up, Jim... well, the mercenary playing the sloth on the ground was still the most mobile of us. Give it at least ten minutes and things wouldn''t be so grim, but now... If a lame janitor found us now, he could probably beat everyone to death with a broom. Then level up dramatically, but that''s another story.


    Fortunately, neither the janitor nor the new soldiers showed up, and it was immediately clear why.


    The siren that was still going on suddenly changed its tone, becoming even sharper and more piercing. And then a voice was added to it.


    - Attention! All non-evacuated personnel must leave the area immediately! The Crimson Citadel will self-destruct in five minutes!


    It was echoed by a second voice, filled with grief and anguish--


    - No! My money!


    Who''s yelling?..


    Oh. That''s me.

 End is near?

    I felt attraction towards the treasure, almost lifting me off the ground. Alas, even the mighty power of heroic greed wasn''t enough to overcome the chthonic, chained-to-the-earth power of lack of HP. So all I could do was to crawl towards Jim, seeping tears and blood, to share - no, not the grief of the money flowing through my fingers, but just the effect of the medikit. Then the two of us courageously crawled toward Lily, and away from the impending explosion.


    Shit. All this pain and suffering, all this effort, all this futility, is unp...


    ...oh, rock.


    ...unpaid! The moral pain of it was comparable to the physical pain that tormented me. The latter was gradually dulling under the influence of the first aid kit and probably the natural regeneration of my body, but the former was only aggravated with the timer sounded from the Citadel.


    And, by the way, we should be as far away as possible. Who knows about Knox thoughts, he could activate an atomic bomb. Or some weird, locally-inspired absurdity.


    But we couldn''t get out of here quickly, so there was a second option: to create a shelter. Alas, I still didn''t have time for something serious, and I didn''t have a lot of materials, as the digital storage of the ECHO was far from limitless, but I was able to cover our disabled team with a couple of walls. Which I started to do when the three of us got together.


    Lily stirred; turned her head, looking around, opened her mouth to ask something...


    - Countdown to self-destruction! Ten, nine...


    ...and closed it.


    I, in turn, raised my face to the sky; there wasn''t enough material for a proper roof.


    - It''s shameless to deprive the heroes of honestly earned loot from the boss! - I voiced my concerns. - And more importantly, it''s against all canons!


    - ...Zero. All the best in the next life!


    The ground shook. The flash was visible in the hole above me - for a moment I was afraid that AlBa had decided to strike me with lightning - and the rumble made my whole body "buzz". Something drummed into the walls I had created.


    And then something massive and elongated fell into the hole from above, embedding itself in the ground.


    The rumbling and banging continued outside, but there was silence - or rather, silence in our little hiding place.


    - Listen... How do you do it? - Jim finally asked, not taking his eyes off the weapons container sticking out of the ground.


    - Connections - I answered, also not taking my eyes off the container.


    Our treasure chest was locked, but that wasn''t a problem: unlike the late General''s personal digital vault in the ECHO, which I''d cleaned up so I could look at it later but hadn''t counted on being able to open, this one had a simple corporate lock designed to protect it from drunken idiots, mostly. There were plenty of ways to deal with it when you didn''t have to worry about security and consequences.


    And inside.


    - This is mine - I said, pulling out an orange shield from my seat.


    - You''re putting together a patriotic Vladoff kit? - Jim chuckled.


    - An option - I agreed, taking the old shield off my belt and replacing it with my new charm, which soothed the pain. Mostly the pain of loss.


    "Shield Atomic Flame Engine," - the ECHO reported. - "Capacity: moderately high, reload speed: moderately high, stabilization speed: moderately high. Unknown additional function."


    Like the other orange items (and some purple ones) I had seen before, the shield had an inscription on its body - "Polymer Power!". Although the ECHO didn''t display the exact numerical characteristics (I wouldn actually like such game convention, and it''s not that actually game-like - shields have measurable characteristics, right?), it did show a comparison with my previous shield, and it reported that the "Atomic Flame Engine" was superior to it on all counts.


    Perhaps next time there wouldn''t be such serious injuries.


    Lily didn''t take anything from the ''chest'', but put a beacon on it - and took the general''s head. "I''ll show it to my mom, let her be happy," she said.


    - So take the whole carcass and make a scarecrow - I hummed. The girl froze and made a facepalm.


    - My mistake - she admitted, and that immediately raised her grade in my eyes. A girl who can admit her mistakes is nice. If anything, it applies to men, too. - Well, I guess we can still sew it up....


    She looked at me hopefully, but I held up my hands.


    - No, no, no, no, not my field. I''m more of a coffee maker, and it''s not going to make coffee.


    - Too bad - Lily sighed. - A little necromancy would be nice right now.


    While she dealt with her bloody trophy, I contacted Roland. We had a protocol, and in this case I just sent him a text message - "The Crimson Citadel has been destroyed, General Knox has been killed, but he was able to evacuate his staff beforehand. The fighters will probably join Steele." Now it''s time to recover a little more so that I can move around properly, and then we can go back to the Lancer.


    - Good gun - said Jim, stroking his new purple revolver with satisfaction. I would have taken it myself, but since I''d chosen the shield, Jim had the right to choose something for himself. - And by the way, amigo... Don''t worry so much about the money. If the Citadel was evacuated in time, the treasury was probably taken out anyway.


    I nodded sadly. He was right, and it wasn''t that we''d been left with no loot at all - even roadblock, after all, had given us something - but it was still a ruthless dash of hope. The treasury of the entire expeditionary corps.


    ...Wait a minute. If it was evacuated, it wasn''t scattered by the blast. And we may yet meet.


    I felt my spirits lift. Wait for me, our separation is temporary... I hope so.


    - It''s worth tracking the evacuees before they join forces with Steele''s forces - I said. - Divide and conquer. We won''t be able to destroy them all, especially in this state, but...


    - But to weaken them, to strike a financial blow, perhaps, - the mercenary picked up my thought. - That''s a good idea. It''s hard to say how feasible, but why not try? Well, they could use air transportation...


    The use of aviation on Pandora is very limited. Primarily because it''s easy to cross the turret-guarded border by air, and the corporations prefer to keep the population within clear boundaries. There are still some, the anti-grav from the junkyard is a testament to this, and bandits are making their own flying jalopies, but in general only the corps have aviation. As a result, it is almost impossible to track the movements of aviation, and if Atlas men used space transportation, which brought them to the planet, the matter becomes impossible.


    But, uh.


    - Angel, you''re up. Hyperion''s got airspace monitoring stations, and Dahl must have something like that.


    Just in case she''s busy and can''t eavesdrop. - I duplicated it with a message. It seemed like a good bet, as I received a map with three moving dots on it, and right before my eyes, one of them separated from the others, heading in a different direction. Somewhere to where the protagonists are now, it seems. They, by the way, for some reason began to be called "Vault Hunters", although as far as I saw, their activity in this direction was very little, if any at all. Inertia of the game basis, I suppose.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.    It''s more likely that Tannis should be referred to as "Vault Hunter".


    In any case, reinforcements to counter militia forces didn''t interest me; in our current state, we can''t fight them anyway. But the treasury, in the sense of what the main forces intend to do there, is worth checking. So there are no unpleasant surprises.


    Hmm. That''s true, isn''t it?


    I nodded to myself and voiced my conclusions.


    - We need to get to the Lancer, recover, and try to figure out what the evacuees are up to. We don''t want to get into any sudden trouble.


    Jim nodded.


    - I agree. It''s worth finding out what else they''re up to, and where our money is.


    That "our" made me a little queasy, but I nodded too; it was fair.


    Homo Recens physiology, plus modern medicine, is something. My Earth body, with injuries like that, would, if not vigorously protest with a desire to retire, at the very least require several months of bunk leave. The Pandorian version... In two or three days I should be in shape.


    Unfortunately, a couple days, especially Pandorian days, is enough for things to change drastically. Fortunately, so far my suspicions have not been justified.


    "Commandant" Steele''s forces were focused on holding back the militia, and they were doing an excellent job of it, as the latter were not eager to put their heads down either. Without a clear and obvious objective, the enthusiasm of the natives waned; I suspected that some were even making a small business out of it. The same Marcus might well be supplying both sides with used ammunition and weapons. Perhaps even of my own making.


    Or not. After all, the Atlasians must have their own vanguard fabricators.


    ...No, don''t be greedy. Although I would like to get my hands on it, of course.


    ...But to see if I can make money from it, I must.


    During the forced recovery downtime, Jim, as the most zealous and best driver among us (and the most capable at the moment), was conducting a mobile reconnaissance of the activities of the main forces of Steele. Even sent a video of the lady herself; quite interesting, though of an odd sort (color, primarily).


    Annoyingly, she had familiar-looking "tattoos" on her skin. A siren, or just an imitation?


    Sounds like another "boss" to me. Maybe even the final one.


    I''m not sure what Lily was doing (made stuffed general, I think), but I was testing my new acquisition, among other things. The results were strange.


    My new shield had several properties. When received melee hit, it occasionally released a white, sticky liquid, a kind of superpolymer with variable properties that could ignite, could activate an electrical discharge, or could simply restrain the victim''s movements. This, however, was of limited use, despite the abundance of close combat enthusiasts; more valuable was the fact that when the shield was depleted, the polymer covered the user with a layer of additional protection, covering wounds and plugging holes in the armor. The shield had its own digital construction module and digital storage, plus an evaluation algorithm, so this layer of plastic on the body did not constrain the user''s movements.


    More than one skag suffered in the experiments, which was an added plus.


    War is war, lunch is lunch. Lily and I were racing B&B with croissants - the access to the goodies alone was worth saving her, I was even starting to consider proposing marriage and a prenup again - when my ECHO made itself known.


    "Incoming call, caller: Patricia Tannis."


    - Are you alive in there? If not, you don''t have to answer - you probably have more important things to do, like feeding the worms. Worms are an important part of the ecosystem, in case you don''t know, and Pandora''s soil desperately needs their work.


    - I''m probably alive - I replied. - You seem to be, too. But feel free to correct me if I''m wrong.


    There was a pause. Checking to see if she is alive.


    - Diagnostics show you''re not wrong.


    Told you.


    ...Shit. I was beginning to understand Tannis.


    That''s a bad sign.


    - Well, that''s all well and good, but I contacted you about something more important than clarifying the existential status of a pair of primates - the archaeologist continued. - Ms. Steele and her goons were kind enough to provide me not only with a dozen rifle butt pokes - by the way, I don''t need them, so can they have them back? - but also valuable archaeological information, as well as the last piece of the Eridian artifact... did I mention that it had been collected? It wasn''t destroyed, but deliberately split into pieces, apparently.


    Damn it. Roland wasn''t ahead of them after all. That sucks, it''s a plot artifact.


    Losing it is probably a plot point, too, though.


    Wait a minute. I think I know what this is. At least, I have an idea.


    - Unfortunately, I haven''t finished researching it, so I want you to return it, plus my notes borrowed by Ms. Steele without my permission. I fear she intends to use them for some sinister purpose. Perhaps even to publish in her own name... though the latter, of course, is unlikely. After all, Ms. Steele is only a mass murderer and war criminal, not a despicable plagiarist. It shouldn''t be particularly difficult if she doesn''t want to give after a polite request - she only has a few hundred soldiers, a thousand at most. The reward for this would be phenomenal!


    - Will you raise it higher on the list of co-authors? - I asked.


    - And I''ll even share the notes I have left - Tannis nodded.


    - First of all, do you know where they are now?


    She knew. For the simple reason that it was her deciphering of the Eridian records, cleared by me and Atlas'' forces, that had determined the current location of Steele and her forces. "The Salt Plains," the place where the passage to the Vault is hidden.


    Uh-huh, so that''s how simple and anticlimactic we''ve come to the finale... I smell a catch. Well, not really: there can''t help but be a catch.


    Tannis didn''t know anything about Steele''s abilities, but she did say something interesting. And not just interesting, but something that clearly affects me...


    So, a piece of lore.


    From my previous work with Tannis, I already knew something about the Eridians. A highly advanced civilization that likes to entertain itself with gladiatorial fights fought by anyone other than the Eridians proper; mostly various artificially bred critters like the same skags, though this is very low level. The show has to go on and not get boring, so they created more and more powerful critters, purely biological and biomechanical, like the same guardians, trying to create more and more efficient, spectacular and deadly models for more and more spectacular shows.


    Aside from the advanced biotechnology that these assholes used for such nonsense - yes, I''m judging other people''s culture, you can sue me - they were pretty advanced in other things. Apparently in digitalization - that''s their technology, after all - in shields and energy weapons...


    And also, according to what Tannis had read, they''d made a breakthrough in yet another direction.


    They were able to contact another universe, to open a passageway.


    That''s what AlBa was talking about.

 The princess is in another castle.

    It''s pretty obvious that I didn''t have the slightest thought of rushing head-on into a superior opponent. Even if this world doesn''t follow the "MC always arrives on time, even if that ''on time'' is late" rule, it''s unlikely that Steele is going to destroy the Vault along with all of its contents. Hell, come to think of it, there''s a non-zero chance that I''ll be sucked into a portal, so I''d better get ready in advance, and gather a lot of stuff that might come in handy on Earth. First of all licenses, of course, but it''s hard to get them on short notice.


    A search in ECHONET on the request "license acquisition" yielded an unexpected result. Turns out we have our own local weapons manufacturer on Pandora. S & S Munitions, at one time was sort of a non-major Pandorian corporation. However, since they were actually a subsidiary corporation of Atlas, they''ve been getting sicker and sicker lately, with the "parent" pulling resources out of them. Now they''re barely functioning at all, and are selling off what property they have left.


    Hmm...


    ...Why don''t I take out a loan?


    I highly doubt that even the best combat lawyers are good enough to go to another world, or even another universe, for a lender. Although, of course, AlBa could get wacky... but it would be a very strange version of the Terminator.


    Alas, loans and banking in general are not so good on Pandora. It''s more like borrowing money from people you know, on trust, or on the security of property. I can transfer my property, even sell it... but it is better not to hurry with it. Although my story would seem almost finished, and there is nothing to worry about, but still... Yes, and it will not be possible to sell my enterprise quickly. But I can offer it as collateral.


    But there''s still the question of who to turn to. Not Marcus. Even though we''ve come to a neutral relationship with him, but still.


    Moxie, perhaps? I could go to Lily, but after talking to her esteemed mother... Moxie is less chthonic.


    - Moxie, can you tell me where I can borrow a decent sum of money against my business?


    - To you? I don''t suppose anyone would lend it to you - you''ve got too good a reputation.


    Eh?..


    However, Moxie immediately clarified the situation - quite obvious, really. It''s all about how the business will be taken back in case of emergency: when the owner is known to be more than capable of standing up for himself, there''s no guarantee that you''ll be able to take what''s owed from him. On the other hand, if he''s weak, there''s no need for any obligations - you can just come and take it.


    Anarchy, you know.


    Shit. I''ve become a victim of my own reputation.


    The most frustrating thing is that now is the perfect opportunity for raider... ahem, force requisition... um, to be enterprising and acquire property at zero cost. Without Atlas'' force support, one could simply show up at the current S&S bosses and take what they have left, perhaps paying a token amount. Perhaps even money. However, I still wouldn''t risk it alone, and putting together a team...


    ...Hmm. Maybe I will.


    - When do you intend to attack Steele''s forces? - I inquired.


    - It''s hard to say exactly - Roland replied. - At the moment they''re fighting the Eridian guards, and there''s no point in getting in the way. Plus a good portion of the militia forces are engaged in containing and thinning out the forces from the Crimson Citadel.


    - Too bad we couldn''t blow them up - I sighed. Having previously captured the treasury, obviously. Alas, the chances of laying hands on it were getting slimmer and slimmer.


    - The chance of complete success was initially very low - said the soldier. - What you managed to do is already respectable. If you want to participate in the final attack, I will contact you.


    - I''ll be waiting - I nodded.


    - Yup, I''m in - Lily nodded.


    - ...But I haven''t even said anything yet - I noticed.


    - What difference does it make? - The girl looked genuinely surprised. - The more I observe your activities, the more I am convinced that near you, Magister, strange shit happens all the time. Which means i need to stay close.


    She shrugged.


    - It''s not only interesting, but you always pay your dues fairly, including for my security.


    - Work ethic is an investment in reputation - I said. - If you can''t get rid of witnesses, you have to leave them with the right impression. Anyway, if you''re in shape for a new adventure, I''d like to invite you to participate in a little requisitioning.


    - What kind of things? - The girl asked.


    - Depends on how things go.


    Going on a weird sidequest right before the final battle? It''s common, any RPG fan will tell you that. Although I do prefer the machine gun and sniper, but those are details. The bottom line is that I need licenses, and there are too few free ones available... or rather, there aren''t. There are too few publicly available free licenses. Licenses, memory modules for ECHO, digital construction schemes - on Earth, at least on my home planet, all this will be priceless. So, since the end of the story is in sight, we should hurry up and get everything we can.


    Hopefully the Eridian guards will hold out long enough.


    - Look, Mr. Deathlove - the man in front of me sighed, and my cheek twitched. Man, why the fuck are they all twisting my last name? Death might take offense! - Our firm is doomed. The founders, as far as I know, have been murdered, and we, the remaining employees, are trying to sell off the property to escape Pandora. If you help us get off this damn planet, I''ll give you all the electronic keys and access codes I have for this branch of S&S.


    Huh. Jackpot? It''s an obvious quest, though. And hence...


    I raised my hand.


    - Mr. Zaidenko, a small favor. For a couple of minutes, please don''t move from your seat or do anything.


    The man gave me a puzzled look, but nodded.


    - Lily, take a convenient place for defense - I said, and hurriedly set up the turrets.


    "Incoming message, sender: AlBa. "Cheater!"


    - Just a man who uses his abilities wisely - I objected. - And in fact, from the looks of it, you were the one cheating.


    Of course, as soon as I accepted the quest, bandits appeared on the horizon. In vehicles - luckily, regular couriers and converted trucks, not armor - and lots of them.


    Way more than usual. A whole little army.


    Some might say it was because they were about to storm an armory where resistance could be expected, but that was all nonsense. The office was breathing down its neck, and the guards had mostly scattered, but a gang of a hundred men... That''s obviously overkill.


    Fortunately, when it became obvious what kind of horde was coming at us, Zaidenko voluntarily opened the armory, aka the warehouse of finished products, and I began to hastily stamp new copies of the CRETIN turrets on the distant approaches. My AI could only pull a limited number of turrets without additional processors, so I was going to build new ones as the old ones were destroyed, retreating inside the building.


    Which I successfully did. There was a lot of shooting, a lot of dead bodies, a lot of wasted nerves, especially when reinforcements came to the bandits, and then on the smell of blood came the skags - still have doubts that AlBa cheated? - but in the end, everyone went down. All the enemies, at least. The NPC... that is, the workers, were protected.


    I honestly expected a new attack on the march, where I won''t have the maximum number of turrets, so I tried to requisition the cars left after the bandits. Fortunately, this is Pandora, so even the relatively peaceful employees of the armory knew how to shoot. Unfortunately, there weren''t many surviving vehicles, but there weren''t many workers either.


    I''d try to recruit them, but since I''m aiming for the end of the story...


    Anyway, on the way to the spaceport, there were incidents... but nothing I feared - just a swarm of varkids. One car overturned, but the passengers survived.


    And then it was time to investigate exactly what I''d gotten.


    Oh... geez.


    The result of this quest was, shall I say, ambiguous. I got a building with most of the equipment (some of the workers grabbed something), but without workers. Finished products from the warehouse for the most part went to the turrets, and was destroyed with them. There was expectedly no money at all, but there was some resources, which I do not mine myself yet... not much, alas.


    But most importantly, my new property was an administrative center, not a production center.


    This, in fact, was quite ambiguous in itself. In my current situation, it was probably for the best. All I had was a small prototyping workshop, but in addition to the fact that its fabricator was even more valuable than the Vanguard fabricator I had - albeit much less productive - I not only got almost all of S&S''s licenses, but also something as fucking valuable as a design terminal with all the software. This¡­ In essence, I had in my hands the freedom to produce any S&S gun, and any modification thereof. With that, you can set up on any planet, formalize a company, and produce products.


    ...And how hard it was for me to think of not being able to haul all the equipment with me.


    The designer software is intentionally created so that it works only on the designer terminal, just downloading it on ECHO will not work. And this prehistoric-looking hulk is not that not transportable at all, but it is unrealistic to take it with you to a hypothetical Eridian portal even if you clear out all Atlas forces first. It''s almost like a computer from the seventies, twentieth century.


    ...I''m pretty sure the terminal looks like that solely so I can''t steal it away.


    Ok. That doesn''t mean there''s nothing I can do.


    Convert digitizing schematic files into a suitable format for ECHO. Digitize all instruments and spare parts, if possible. Load all technological documents, technology descriptions, and manuals into the memory. Get my hands on a couple of digital vaults and rejoice in the increased inventory size.


    And then realize the obvious (but for some reason only now) fact, and fall into a deep depression.


    All this technology, all these weaponized (and not only) wonders, all this mind-bogglingly absurd hi-tech - all these fucking absurd "technological" wonders.


    ...They won''t work on Earth. I''m not betting my hand on it, only because I don''t bet on that kind of thing at all.


    - For the first time in ages, I feel like getting drunk... - I muttered.


    - Magister? - Lily asked. The girl had taken part in shooting bandits, and it seemed that she was quite happy with this side quest.


    - There are worlds with magic and worlds without - I said. - And you can choose one or the other.


    If my realization is correct, I won''t even be able to carry the valuables with me, because what''s in the digital vault can''t be retrieved.


    - Oh, is that it? - Lily asked, and I looked at her suspiciously.


    It doesn''t matter.


    - And the important thing is that often magic is relatively ordinary and familiar things - I continued. - I have serious doubts about digitalization, too.


    The girl thought for a moment.


    - That''s an interesting point of view - finally, she said. - Actually, I had such thoughts. But it''s not interesting enough and it''s too commonplace, so...


    I nodded.


    - You didn''t need magic per se, but something colorful and interesting.


    - Master, did you happen to be enrolled in an online psychology course? - she asked.


    - Why would I need all that darkness and superstition? - I wondered. - No, I just realized that there was a high probability that the higher powers had screwed me more than expected, and all my efforts were in vain. You know, like when you start playing an online game, investing in your character, picking up a build, and then a patch comes out that changes the balance.


    Lily grimaced. She thought for a moment and pulled out a bag of brownies, which she handed to me.


    I nodded gratefully.


    Whatever my suspicions, hope springs eternal, and the chance that I''d be able to sneak at least any valuable metals with me was not zero. So I pulled myself together, and continued to prepare for different options.


    The short message from Roland contained only geographic coordinates and the name of the nearest FTS. Well, it was time to move out for what would probably be the final battle.


    We need to get more explosives.


    - The tentative plan is quite simple, but sensitive to detail - Roland said. - We follow Steele''s remaining forces, not letting them retreat, but not engaging them in combat, pressing on the remaining guardians in the area... there were plenty of them. If the guardians win, good, if Steele gets to the Vault, good, attack as soon as she opens it.


    I nodded, but I noticed:


    - That''s a pretty good plan, but I don''t think Steele doesn''t realize it. Unless she''s desperate, she must have some kind of trump card of her own.


    - You''re right, it worries me too - Roland agreed. - The most likely possibility is that there is some kind of weapon in the Vault and she knows about it. So there is an option to attack before the opening, but Ms. Tannis doesn''t know how to do that, but Ms. Steele almost certainly does.


    - Tannis will probably figure it out if we can''t do it ourselves - I remarked. - The problem is that if we know the exact location of the Vault, people will go there. And we''re guaranteed to get more megacorps.


    Soldier nodded.


    - If we don''t empty the Vault as quickly as possible, it''s not only a missed opportunity, it''s a magnet for trouble - he said. - Atlas is on his last legs, so he was an easy enough opponent. If Maliwan, for example, or Hyperion were to show up, it would be more difficult.


    I sigh.


    - So we''ll let Steele pull chestnuts out of the fire. But let''s be vigilant, I don''t believe it will be easy.


    Everyone present nodded in agreement.


    Actually, there was another problem: the problem of sharing the spoils. However, I didn''t bring it up.


    In fact, there had never been any really large-scale battles, not even wars, in the history of Pandora. Despite the incessant violence, from the point of view of Earth''s history, it''s all a ridiculous fuss of negligible scale: not even thousands of fighters, only hundreds, and even that is very rare. The norm is a dozen or two fighters on each side... well, or one or two Vault Hunters, and a few dozen bandits.


    Steele originally had about a thousand and a half men with him. Now there were about three hundred of them left.


    Unfortunately, the remaining ones were the elite. Equipment, skills, and even morale - according to the observations of the reconnaissance drones, they were fine, excellent even.


    What was particularly troubling was Steele herself. The blue-gray-skinned lady was indeed a siren, and a professional, unlike Lilith, who, though she had gone through the school of life, was still an amateur. The problem, however, was not the skills she displayed - she was a good shot, it was a fact - but what she didn''t display: her abilities, minus the hand-to-hand energy attacks that were nearly as good as Lilith''s, remained a mystery. Scout drones had picked up the glow of her tattoos a few times, but that was all; usually after that, the drones were shot down.


    There were a lot of interesting things to say about the place we were in - for example, this canyon was mysteriously invisible from the air - but I wasn''t in the mood for that sort of thing. The finale, or something like it, was fast approaching, and I highly doubted it would turn out to be one technological bummer. The final game needs a final boss, after all, and Steele, for all her abilities (I''ll give her credit, she was much better with guardians than I was), still didn''t seem like a final boss; General Knox was more impressive. So I had two theories, both of which were unpleasant and, worst of all, could be combined: either Steele would get her hands on some kind of battle gear like Knox''s mecha-exoskeleton, which would dramatically increase her threat level, or there would be an Eridian gladiatorial champion stashed in the Vault. Hell, a few megaskags would be enough to devour most, if not all, of our militia. And this is just the lowest level of Eridian toys, an obsolete model. I don''t want to find out what their best of the latest was.


    I remembered Skull Island, the terrain detail that gave it its name, and I shivered.


    At least the Atlasians didn''t have armored vehicles: the canyon leading to the Vault was too narrow and uneven. Unfortunately, this was compensated for, at least in part, by the medium exoskeletons, or mechanized armor, present on almost all of the fighters. There were some aircraft, but they were shot down by the guardians, mostly while attempting to land at the end of the canyon, near the supposed location of the Vault.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.    In general, it should be noted that something strange was going on in the canyon. From the outside it was a plain, with a small, unremarkable ravine as an entrance. Inside, it was a narrow path on the slope of the canyon''s drop, with the sky above, a cliff to the left, and a chasm to the right, from which the guards appeared. That said, the flat hard surface visible from above was not a hologram or anything like that, it was quite tangible. Even for Pandora, it was impressive. If I were to speculate wildly (why not?), I''d say that if this Vault really is some sort of laboratory for the study of space and other universes, they used their designs to distort space. It''s a great disguise.


    And a perfectly defensible position. The fact that the guardians did not kill all the Atlasians, forced to move in a chain along the narrow path, can only be explained by a miracle and the highest professionalism. And by fact that the Eridian robots, or whatever they were, did not attack with all their forces at once, issuing new waves only as their fighters were eliminated and the Atlasians advanced.


    - Did something happen? - I asked, noticing Roland frowning. He glanced at me, hesitated, but answered.


    - It seems so. The Citadel forces have stopped near one of the FTSs, and they''re doing something.


    - They can''t count on reinforcements, so they want to evacuate...? - I mumbled out loud. - Wait. Their ship is still in orbit?


    Roland nodded.


    - They can''t fire on our forces, they''ll hit their own, but they''re still up there.


    - And they still have...


    - ...Drop pods - the soldier finished for me. - We can expect a landing and a rear-guard strike in the near future.


    - Steele will rear us when we rear her - I nodded. The Roland''s expression changed slightly. - Has it already begun?


    He nodded.


    - The first pods have been dropped. Some of the militia have gone to destroy them, the rest of us should get into action. The ship''s changing orbital position, no need to find out what else they''re up to. Plus, Steele''s forces are almost at the bottom of the canyon, we can''t let them get a foothold.


    Yeah, they''ll put machine guns there and mow down the approaching infantry... I nodded again.


    When the "tail" of the Atlasians came under fire, the chain of soldiers accelerated their movement, focusing on defense. Fortunately, like us, they didn''t use grenade launchers for fear of destroying the way back, but hand machine guns, due to the cover of thick armored shields, were also a problem; it was as if we had a moving fortress wall in front of us. At least we had those too, and the direction of movement played in our favor, but in their favor was the heavy armor missing from the militia.


    We had Mordecai and Brick, though.


    The militia''s machine gun fire had almost no effect on the Atlas Elite''s armor. Roland''s attempts weren''t very effective either; I wasn''t even trying that way from this position.


    Mordecai''s shots were rare, but every bullet from his corrosive sniper found a target behind the shields. The hunter preferred to hit at arms and legs; not out of any mercy, but simply because it was the most advantageous in this situation, creating gaps in the wall of shields.


    Brick acted more simply, using basic, fundamental physics, laws of momentum transfer and fulcrum instead of precision and calculation.


    He threw rocks. Big rocks.


    At times, the Lancers managed to pick up a comrade flying into the abyss, but one who tried to do so fell off the edge together  with Brick''s victim. And, again, our big man''s actions created gaps in the enemy''s defenses, which were exploited by our marksmen, especially Mordecai.


    ...Brick threw a live skag at them once, and I don''t want to know where he got it.


    Ahead, the glint of the guardians'' plasma discharges and flashes of Atlasian return fire were visible. A single member of the Crimson Lance was definitely inferior to a single Guardian, but the men were coordinated. If the Guardians had some kind of overall control, it was clearly flawed, and now it was having a big impact. The Lancers were taking out the technologically superior robots one by one, concentrating fire of multiple guns on them, and the guardians were getting fewer and fewer, while the human casualties were low; the Lancers engineers were field repairing the armor right in the battle, applying patches.


    Shit, how are we supposed to take them out...? The fewer guards left, the more pressing the question became.


    And that wasn''t the worst part. Both my visor and my sniper scope gave good magnification, and I could see the bustle of the Lancers who had reached the bottom. Several engineers had set up a digital projector, and were hastily assembling some sort of device from the parts it was creating... shit.


    - Mordecai, can you stop the engineers from assembling the FTS? - I asked through the ECHO. Almost immediately, one of the men working below fell. At this distance, even considering the windlessness...


    ...Shit. No more guardians. I never expected that to be frustrating.


    With their comrades behind them, the released Lance forces couldn''t shoot at us, but they could still get a little more movement, so they could attack from the bottom of the canyon.


    I peeked out from behind the shield of the militiaman in front of me for a second - immediately taking a bullet stopped by my shield - and fired a stack of Wave circulars roughly between the rock and the enemy. Huh, the Lance soldier went off the edge... It''s not much height, though, so he''ll survive.


    There was a roar. Brick snatched the shield from one of the militiamen, and shoved the others out of the way - at least he didn''t throw them off... oh, he did throw them off - and rushed forward.


    Shit. It''s like bowling.


    - Support him - I heard Roland''s ECHOed message, and we rushed in the direction of the people flying like pins.


    "I wonder if Brick could turn over a tank...?" - I thought aloofly, shooting someone in the face. - "Probably yes... I hope Lily doesn''t go ahead - I don''t want to find out if her mother manages to make it to the other universe. §°h, tits¡­ were."


    Funny thing - a massive melee at close range. Not my thing, but it has one upside: when the hustle and bustle around you ends, you feels extremely alive.


    ¡­Well, almost.


    - AGAIN? - Death asked, looking at me. - OK. THE TERMS ARE THE SAME.


    He put on his glasses and unfolded the paper, muttering something about feed quotes. I think.


    Fortunately, there was still no shortage of replacement candidates nearby, and while their defenses posed some (obvious) problems, the corrosive SG was quite capable of solving them.


    - You might want to think about changing your line of work - the skeleton remarked and disappeared.


    There were no buildings at the bottom of the canyon, only a slightly raised platform with a pile of rocks on it. It was to this that Steele hurried, holding the cone-shaped Eridian artifact in her hand, which, along with her hand, was enveloped in a gradually intensifying blue glow. Most of her fighters continued to hold their defenses, a small group covering the engineers trying to revive the desperately sparking FTS, and Siren seemed oblivious to anything but the object in her hand. A few more quick steps, and the artifact - a key, definitely - lifted from her hand, hovered in the air for a second, spinning, and then dropped into a notch in the ground.


    The ground beneath her feet shuddered. And then the pieces of stone piled on the platform in front of Steele began to rise into the air, coalescing into some sort of structure... an arch.


    A portal arch.


    A flame erupted next to Steele in a near explosion, from which another female figure with glowing tattoos emerged like a wingless phoenix.


    Lilith. She attacked the very moment Steele opened the portal.


    However, despite all the "commandant''s" previous concentration, it failed to take her by surprise; she jumped back, firing her revolver - or rather, the two revolvers that had appeared in her hands. The flash of flame only licked her, just missing her shields, and in the next second Steele was two.


    ...And then one again. As her transparent, hologram-like copy disappeared, punctured by a black and red tentacle as thick as a foot, shot out of the portal.


    And more and more kept coming out.


    Magical girls are vulnerable to tenacles, it''s a well-known fact. From what I''ve seen, however, all of us here are vulnerable to these non-gender-discriminatory tentacles.


    Several of Lance''s fighters found themselves strung up on outgrowths that ignored their armor in a matter of seconds. The stuff wasn''t all-piercing, and I could tell that their shields were... not exactly stopping them, but at least hold one hit, but if that was any consolation, it didn''t last long.


    A large eye appeared among the cluster of tentacles, and in defiance of common sense, it fired a laser roughly in my direction.


    I dove forward and down as soon as I saw the eye, sensing with my ass what was about to happen. Alas, not everyone around me shared my understanding of the stampede.


    At least a quarter of our squad was mowed down, leaving their lower halves smoking. The attack also caused the road we were traveling down to collapse.


    - Let''s kill the monster, we''ll deal with each other later! - I yelled, materializing a grenade launcher in my hands. It''s not like farting at this thing with a SG...


    The tentacles spread like anemone wide enough that even with the RPG low accuracy I hit them, making a sudden splash of purple... blood, probably.


    - EXPLOSION! - and a new explosion blossomed on the tentacles.


    - Lily, retreat on your broom! - I commanded through the ECHO.


    - But this place is so interesting! And I can take care of myself!


    - Re... port the main forces of what''s going on! Only you can fly!


    The girl tsked.


    - Keep the broadcast on.


    With those words, she tossed the bear in my direction and soared into the air.


    "Message received with attachments."


    Huh. Still, Lily, for all her badassery and weirdness, is a good girl, and knows the way to a man''s heart. She sent me a stack of grenades, simple and reactive.


    However, the next moment a tentacle stretched for a couple of hundred meters pierced the stone next to me, and I was not thinking about women.


    On the plus side, tentacles aren''t poisonous, and you can live after a single penetration, especially if you don''t tell anyone. On the plus side, the Lancers heeded my call and focused their fire on the monster threatening both sides, not on us. On the plus side, they had enough grenade launchers and grenades.


    Everything else is a minus.


    ...Ah, no - the fact that the creature was obviously so huge that it couldn''t squeeze through the portal, an optimist might also call it a plus.


    That didn''t stop more and more tentacles from popping up in place of the ones torn off by the explosions. Oh, and to make things even more fun, the wounds it been inflicted with were healing quite quickly, though the elemental effects were definitely counteracting that, especially the fire ones. What can I say... I was expecting a vicious final boss - I got it.


    In fact, everything was... well, on the level of the final boss. Yes, death is near, yes, extremely strong, perhaps even cheater, creature, but - it was clear that not invincible. It''s regeneration was far from instantaneous - actually, Brick''s was faster. Its tentacles were powerful and fast, but predictable and not unstoppable.


    And foolishly, or out of greed, or whatever, when a dozen tentacles were torn off, the thing that the ECHO called "Destroyer" stuck its face out into the portal. Or at least part of it. It looked like a mixture of a skag''s face and a dewlap, perhaps.


    Sticks out, and it''s stuck.


    On the one hand, this added to the problem, since it was more agile with its tongue than with its tentacles, and two more lasers were added to the one that fired from time to time. On the other hand, the muzzle had clogged most of the portal, so there were only six tentacles left... alas, new ones still coming through to replace them.


    There was just one question. My ECHO, unlike all previous enemies, did not display a health bar. And consequently.


    - Can this thing even be killed with a conventional weapon? - I muttered, firing a circular Wave in the direction of the eye. The organ seemed vulnerable, but the creature covered it with tentacles and a thick eyelid lid.


    Suddenly - good thing it wasn''t exactly underhanded - I got an answer.


    - According to my data, in our universe, the creature is vulnerable, and it is showing signs of feeling pain. Also registering changing biological indicators... Transmitting assessment program.


    Whoa. The health bar is finally showing up, and it''s already been halved.


    Just as I was getting excited about it, a tongue pierced one of the few remaining Atlas fighters and dragged it into the monster''s mouth. Someone immediately launched a grenade into it; the tongue twitched, dropping its victim, but it was unlikely that even a homo recens would survive such a thing. The empty health bar confirmed that.


    - Send it the others - I told Angel.


    - I already did - she said, and then fell silent.


    I didn''t have any cover I could use to create a turret, but I did have Lily''s gift. Hand grenades... I didn''t risk getting close enough to throw them, and I didn''t have a teleportation modifier (that trophy one was crap anyway), but rocket-propelled grenades were still quite relevant. The creature''s hide was incredibly tough, but the Lancers observation and sacrifices had found a number of vulnerabilities: something like articulations on the tentacles, the mouth, the eye, previous wounds... And as for the hand grenades...


    "Use them."


    Covered by a stack of corroded armor shields, Brick sent me a smirk in response, and grenades flew from his side into the monster one after another. Now that''s someone who has no problem with throwing distance...


    The eye of the Destroyer began to flare up for a dangerous laser attack just as I was reloading the grenade launcher... oops. I don''t have a grenade launcher. I defended myself against the tentacle. The weapon was fucked, I was thrown, but I was still alive. However I still had to survive.


    Roland, however, had a grenade launcher, and his projectile hit monster under the eye, causing it to twitch and discharge into the sky; the lower part of eye turned milky. Immediately, a hand grenade fell from the claws of the Bloodwing onto the top of it, clinging to the flesh and erupting in a cloud of persistent flame.


    Lilith and Steele, spread out on opposite sides of the battlefield - still not victims of the tentacles, against all odds - were making seemingly token contributions with their assault rifles, but the ECHO showed a slightly but shrinking health bar, and the magnification of the visor allowed me to see the burns their bullets were leaving on the monster''s vulnerable parts.


    - Mommy... - someone squeaked, and the number of Lancers was reduced by one more. At least the dead man had left me a brand-new grenade launcher, just what the doctor prescripted... As the tentacle whistled over my head, I picked up the weapon. Oh, there''s still a grenade left, we''re living.


    - THAT WAS FAST THIS TIME. YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY THINK ABOUT CHANGING YOUR OCCUPATION - said Death.


    - I''m sorry for the inconvenience - I repented, hurriedly looking around for someone to feel sorry for. Damn, there were no more Lancers I could "accidentally" shoot.


    Shit.


    This could have been a good place to end the story, but... Caution and prudence, mind them and they''ll save you.


    And money helps, yes.


    Sighing, I slipped my hand into the special armored container on my belt, and pulled it out of there.


    Death stared at me questioningly, as if unsure of how to feel about it.


    - Is something wrong? - I asked. He sighed and waved his hand.


    - JUST DON''T DO THAT AGAIN.


    - As you say - I agreed and shot the hamster.


    By the way, I also got a warning from AlBa too not to do it again, but the main thing was that I was alive. Again. And once again I began to contribute to the victory of the Pandorian madhouse over the anotheruniverse madness.


    If you''re expecting a dramatic, pathos-filled story of desperate struggle and miraculous victory, I must disappoint you. This battle was bloody, hard, but without any intrigue. We just poured kilogram after kilogram of ammunition into the creature, trying to survive ourselves and finish it off, and in the end we succeeded.


    Well, how "succeeded"... The creature twitched more and more as it was wounded, and at one point it jerked with such force that it slid back into the portal, leaving behind a sizable chunk of flesh. Immediately, the glow in the arch faded, the arch itself crumbled into stone, and the artifact-key that had activated the portal jumped out of its slot and rolled away, falling apart into three pieces.


    - Did we really survive? - Mordecai''s voice in the ECHO sounded somewhat puzzled.


    - We''re the toughest badasses on Pandora! - but Brick sounded pleased. - Only, uh, where''s the treasure?


    - And we still have a little problem - Lilith said, pointing her gun at Steele. She looked around, released the machine gun - her ECHO also slipped from her belt and fell to the ground - and slowly raised her hands.


    - I surrender - she said, looking up at me. - Mr. Dethlove, I believe I have something to report to your superiors.


    Glances crossed at me, and I grimaced. I waved my hand.


    - I don''t mind, but we''ll talk about it later.


    "Message received, sender: AlBa.


    Achievement: ''Very big game.''" Although it wasn''t you who struck the last blow, and there was no last blow, but you made the Destroyer of Worlds flee in shame (seriously, that thing ate a couple of them, it just wasn''t comfortable on Pandora). Be proud of that!


    ...Perhaps I''ll toss in a memento. Later.


    Mission received: Your "princess" is in another "castle". You''ve made it, and you''ve reached the Eridian Vault, which contains a portal to another universe. Unfortunately, not the right one. But higher spirit, perhaps you''ll have better luck next time!"


    I facepalmed.


    - Bastard.

 The epilogue of this part.

    - Boss, we''ve got something weird going on here!


    - Don''t scratch it, it''ll go away on its own - I said absentmindedly. Nothing''s been happy lately...


    - No, boss. It''s obvious, but that''s not what I mean. Look at this.


    An ex-gangster ex-miner who had become a miner again (history, as we know, moves in a spiral) pulled out of his pants a long, thick, red - crystal.


    Huh. Not at all what one would expect.


    - Where did this come from? - I inquired. - From our quarry?


    - That''s right. The analyzer was jammed, so we didn''t try to saw it, we decided to show you first.


    Two weeks had passed since the memorable battle with the Destroyer. I''d largely withdrawn from the political fallout (though I''d picked up some personnel among the surrendered Atlas survivors), and Roland, as a former Atlas employee and career officer, had taken over. By the way, we were not left without loot; this time we didn''t have to remind AlBa about the rules of game design, and not far from the inactive portal we found... not a cave, but rather an overgrown niche with several containers filled with Eridian artifacts of various kinds. The key to the portal, by the way, I quietly got my hands on, so that no one was interested in it.


    All seemed well - I''d survived, I''d gotten my hands on valuable loot and profitable property, peace and order had returned to Pandora (actually, no - we''d just prevented that by getting rid of Atlas), but...


    Before, I had a Goal. It was more or less clear and understandable, and although I didn''t really know the specific steps necessary to achieve it, I could be sure that I would reach it - if I survived. Now there was uncertainty, even from AlBa there were no new messages, and I realized that I wanted to go home. And yet I wasn''t sure I could go back.


    I would have left Pandora, except that the only chance I had left to return to good old Earth lay here. So, alas, this madhouse won''t let me go.


    At least my situation has improved considerably, thanks in no small part to the most valuable piece of loot I got after taking out the Destroyer.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    - Let''s be clear, Ms. Steele - I rested my chin on my hands on the table. - I''m only formal is employee of the Vladoff, and I''d prefer to minimize contact in the future. However, if you''re interested not just in surviving as a defector, but in getting something for yourself, why don''t you work for me? And help make my little business big. If you''re good enough - head of security, I suppose - you can count on a stake in the enterprise.


    I wanted to rename S&S to D&S, but this very proud woman demanded that her name come first as a condition. And I warned her that people would ask why D instead of M.....


    Oh, and I had a fight with Lily because I didn''t want to sell Steele to her.


    Anyway, life is made up of ups, downs, and depression as black as Pandorian coffee for lack of milk.


    And of surprises.


    "Eridium crystal," my ECHO reported, and something in my head clicked...uh, no. Only the name came to mind. - "Do a search for matches on the net?"


    Hmm. Well, why not.


    "Requesting & searching in progress," the device reported and displayed the active symbol.


    - In general, leave it here, if you find more - put it separately - I instructed the employee. - Oh, and thank you.


    - Glad to be help, your maje... I mean, yessir, boss! - the man stretched out, saluted, and then walked out. I have no idea where they get these habits, but on Pandora, it''s best not to ask such questions.


    I looked down at my desk, at my coffee, at my to-do list, and with a sigh I got to work.


    It was already evening. Steele had gone on a shooting spree with some suicidal idiots, and I was about to go to bed when the ECHO reminded me of itself.


    It wasn''t the result of a search, however.


    ...Well, not exactly.


    "Incoming call, sender: Hyperion Corporation offices."


    Huh. Well, let''s see what it is.


    A thin, fairly young man was staring at me.


    Vaguely familiar.


    Who i immediately took a liking to with one simple word.


    - Hello, Mr. Dyatlov. My name is Jack, and I would like to offer you a contract for the extraction and sale of an interesting resource...