White Sun of Pandora (Only psychos on Pandora) (Borderlands fic, litRPG elements)

[HelioBM]

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...
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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
...О.
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.
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.

 

[HelioBM]

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?"
?...
"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."
"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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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?

 

[HelioBM]

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.

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 guardians, 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
Vladoff'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.
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?

 

[HelioBM]

The mouse cried and prickles, but the cactus gradually succumbed.
That's about me, actually.

Despite all my reluctance and attempts to get rid of this dubious honor (or at least postpone it until better times and higher level), I had to continue the "main quest": with the inhabitants of this world, I am able to cope, but AlBa... well, better not to annoy the gods or near-divine entities, no matter what some people think. Lightning from a clear sky is a very convincing argument, you know. So, having made sure that the seawater recycling station was working properly and more or less protected (though I'd need to put up stationary turrets...), having upgraded my armor and replenished my ammo, I headed for the ruins under the Dead Mountain.
Truth be told, I would have liked to take at least one of the protagonists with me. Alas, none of them could be contacted, and as tempting as it was to wait for them, the invigorating smell of ozone is very stimulating, so I didn't delay.
The dead mountain, and its mine, remained as lifeless as last time. There were more tracks, though; the rumors I'd spread about the treasure were still around.
Damn, are these adventurers or tourists? On the wall, next to a chip bag lying on the floor, "Bil was here" was scrawled crookedly.
...Oh, everything is normal, after all: it was written in blood.

Anyway, back to our non-electric cacti. I fired a line of blue tracer discharges of Thunderer at the guardian in the corridor ahead; he bounced back behind the wall with lightning speed (though no - I'm the lightning speed here...), and I fired the machine gun and grabbed the prepared Wave, from which I hurriedly fired around the corner. Ricochets rulez in these situations...
Fortunately, the guards weren't smart enough to use cover to recover shields. If they had, clearing this dungeon would have been a real nightmare, maybe even impassable (at least alone and with my weapons), and so... I was slowly digging into the extremely powerful shield of the Eridian design from behind the shelter, with the support of the turrets, and it was smashing my turrets, occasionally hitting me - more than half of the shield with each shot, and that's when the shield wasn't shorted out - but overall the situation was definitely leaning in my direction.
Until we had visitors.
I heard them beforehand, by the stomping, and immediately started to digitally build a barricade from the uncovered rear, where the sounds were coming from. That's what saved me.
- Get him! - someone shouted, and I ducked under the cover of the barricade under the lights of the elemental SG that drew the space above my head.
I heard the heavy stomping of two pairs of feet coming toward me.
My four turrets turned toward the new enemy -
- and immediately, two of them sparked and went out of action as they caught the discharge of the Guardian's guns.
I mean guardians. Immediately, two constructs appeared in the corridor.
The SG gunner switched fire to them, and something spinning with a whoosh split the air - a throwing axe.
To my surprise - a slight one, it is Pandora - this primitive weapon was much more effective than a firearm: it shot down the guards' ball lightning and hit one of them. Through the viewing slit in the barricade, I saw the construct get thrown back by the impact and crash into the wall. It didn't do any serious damage to his shield, but still.
I would have been completely fine with my enemies fighting amongst themselves, but alas, today was not my day.
No, they did indeed mesh together, but the main fire still came at my stronghold.
"Strong" indeed.
The turrets went off merrily, sparkling, one after another; I was able to create another one, forcing the Badass Psycho who'd jumped me to retreat with a couple of volleys of Wave, but the situation was bad: there weren't just three bandits, I could see - hear - at least two more, a machine gunner and a dude with a shotgun. And if my hearing was correct in the cacophony of gunfire, there was also the growl of a skag.
Something dark and round, flying toward me... a grenade.
Pulling the trigger, emptying the Wave's cartridge block into the psycho's side. Letting the shotgun out of my hands, intercepting the blade with both hands, and kicking the grenade away... fuck*. It hit the psycho's forehead, too close... bounced off, causing the psycho to stagger.
And exploded in a cloud of fire a dozen meters away from me.
It didn't hit him, but okay. Without distracting myself, I delivered a second blow with the shovel, this time a chopping blow to the leg of the psycho, who was alive and eager to fight despite the Wave's sawblades stuck in his body.
Trees are easier to chop.
Still, I managed to damage his leg enough to make it twist, but that didn't make my opponent incapacitated. Even as he was falling, he struck with his sawaxe... I barely had time to block it with my trusty cold (but loving at heart?) weapon. A sickening sound, a shower of sparks, but the adamantium shovel held.
My hands, on the other hand, were more difficult. There seemed to be no way for my opponent to exert more force than his own weight, but this nutcase certainly didn't know about basic physics. I was already sitting on my ass to keep my head above the barricade walls, but now I was practically pinned to the ground. There was only one thing left to do, something a real man would only do as a last resort.
I kicked him in the balls with all my might.
Wawawa, my poor leg. They're really steel, aren't they?
In my case, physics works, more or less. The blow tore the psycho off the ground and threw him into the air; the shovel hit added momentum, throwing him over the barricade and into the path of another guardian's ball of lightning.
But my situation didn't improve: a skag that had just jumped over the barricade immediately appeared where the psycho had just been.
The thing tried to claw at my still-raised leg, but missed; I jabbed my shovel into its open mouth, materializing a second pistol - a blue gun from Tedior, from the pirate island - and fired a couple of shots at the vulnerable spot. The skag twitched and collapsed, but I could hear two more sources of growling, and there was more gunfire. It looked like a whole gang was here, lucky for me...
Lucky for me, but unlucky for me. By this time my turrets were silent, knocked out by the fire from both sides - one was covered by the psycho's corpse, so it didn't see the enemy - and, thinking I was out of the fight, the bandits clashed with the guards.
At first I thought that a couple of guards would kill the bandits with their killer shields, but it quickly became clear that it wasn't that simple: the humans had their own trump card in the form of nonhumans.
To be exact, they've managed to tame a shock alpha skag.
This big, fattened creature not only practically ignored the guards' ball lightning, but also quickly managed to neutralize one of them, crashing into him with a jerk and knocking him into the wall, after which he began to gnaw on the construct, throwing sparks in all directions. The second guardian tried to fend off his comrade, hitting the skag with his pike-arm and inflicting a deep wound, but the fire of the bandits, concentrated on one target, threw him off.
The situation, which had clearly tilted toward the bandits, was reversed by the appearance of a third guardian who appeared from somewhere in the darkness above, probably from one of the tunnels that pierced the entire mountain. The guard opened fire on the archers on the ground, knocking out several of them, and without interference from them, a couple of guards on the ground were finally able to drive off the alpha skag.
I took stock of the situation and decided to take my chances.
Switching weapons to a sniper rifle. The skag-afflicted guard, whose shield strip, displayed by the ECHO, was flashing red, staggered away from the wall, but before he could get airborne....
...The explosion scattered his remains, the entire guard, and the skag, in different directions. Huh. I still don't understand the principle of the Nutcracker... Or was it something in the guard itself that exploded?
No one seems to have figured out where the shot came from - they may have assumed the guard exploded from the damage done by the skag. I got double cover with the skag, I guess you could say, since I was shooting from underneath it.
The battle continued, and I waited for the moment to carefully intervene again. If one side was going to win with a clear advantage, I didn't want that; ideally they'd kill each other, but at least let them weaken so they could finish off the rest.
...I don't know how I missed that skag, especially since I was aware of the presence of another one nearby, but it attacked me, sneaking up on me at a jumping distance. From the pawing and biting, I was able to close with the carcass of its kin, but then had to roll over, moving away from the acid burp - and with that, I emerged from the shelter of the barricade.
Shit.
A couple pistol shots, and roll over again. A shot, hopefully stray, knocked sparks out of a rock nearby, and then the skag was near again - and clawed at my arm. When did I lose my shield?
It yanked, and immediately bounced away; I fired again, but missed, as the thing leapt to the side and lunged at me again. The shovel remained in the cover I had left; I turned on the mini winch, pulling it up with a cable, but the skag was faster. A bullet of friendly fire hit him in the side, but it was only an SG, and the skag ignored the hit, focusing on me.
My gun bit him more sensitively, but not enough to stop him. A knee strike gave only a fraction of a second of delay, too; a blow with the handle of my gun... the skag clawed at my arm again, biting through the damaged armor. On the other side, the bullet hit me, knocking sparks out of the armor plate and leaving a deep furrow with a sensitive impact.
The blade was finally in my hand... but fell out of my unclenched fingers.
This delay nearly cost me my life, as this time the skag aimed for my throat.
You could say it was a miracle that saved me. Although it would be more accurate to say that I was saved by another manifestation of Pandora's insanity.
- NYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! - came from somewhere above, and blue and red lights sprang from the darkness above us in all directions. The red, fiery ones traveled across "my" skag, and he clearly didn't like that; he jerked back and roared.
- Behold the full power of my magic! - shouted a distinctly female, or rather even girlish, voice, and from above fell a... uh, grenade?....
- FIRESTORM!!! - yelled the girl, and the separating grenade erupted into five clouds of flame, showering me with heat....
...and hardly hit anyone. But it drew attention to the figure above; even the gunfire stopped for a second.
I emptied the magazine of my pistol into the skag, and looked up as well.
...Pandora, damn.
A girl in a black dress was floating in the air, sitting on a broomstick. The most prominent detail, however, was a black, wide-brimmed and pointed witch's hat.
- Lily Rose will show you real magic! - she shouted. - A chain of lightning!
"Lily Rose. ?'A real? witch, and proud of it," the ECHO reported as a second grenade flew towards the pair of bandits.
This one was more effective, and its effect was indeed like magic: lightning traveled from one bandit to another, and to a third, standing off to the side.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the guardian who had been fighting the alpha skag had won, but his shield was nearing the end of its life. Considering that he'd chosen me as his next target... The Thunderer appeared in my hands, and I fired off a line, dodging lightning bolts and single bullets as I ran.
The girl's broomstick went up in smoke, and her descent began to turn into a fall. I jumped, dodging more ball lightning and firing another round at the guard; his shield was almost gone, but my accuracy was poor - and the machine gun wasn't very accurate - and I couldn't finish him off. Rolling over with a machine gun in my hands was a challenge, but I managed to dodge the bullets behind a stalagmite, which shattered into shards but protected me; I fired back, darted to the side....
...Something strangely soft fell on me, knocking me to the floor. A ball of lightning flew over my head, and without getting up I fired the rest of the ammo block at its source.
- Hot! My bottom! I'm not immune to fire!
"Witch" jumped up from the hot machine gun barrel she was sitting on, but despite her indignant scream and the general craziness of what was happening she opened fire with two SG.
The next second I yanked her to the side, behind the nearest cover of stacked crates, pulling her out of the fire.
- Gentler! Despite my great magical power, I'm a delicate, fragile girl! - she said, turning someone's face into a charred mess. - Chain of lightning!
She was still swinging, but I saw a third guard turning towards us, and -
- Hey! - the girl exclaimed indignantly, as the impact of the shovel sent the grenade in a very different direction from the one her mistress had planned. I, however, only jabbed my finger in the direction of the target and opened fire with the Thunderer, which I had time to reload - the auto-pharmacy was able to bring my arm back to full strength.
The lightning bolt not only nailed the guardian, but also caught another bandit. "Witch" hummed, and joined me in shelling the guard.
Huh. She's got some pretty good guns. Purple ECHO-estimated SGs from Maliwan.

A couple minutes later it was over, and the cave finally quieted down again. I looked around, searching for possible remaining enemies, and then shifted my gaze to the girl. Dope, dead bodies, and a crazy cosplayer with firearms and grenades. This situation begs the obvious....
- Would you like some coffee, young lady? - I asked.
- Flatterer... I'm not so much of lady, - she said.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
- 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.

 

[HelioBM]

- 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.
...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.
...О. 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
- 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
- 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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..
О! 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.

 

[HelioBM]

- 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.

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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
- ...О. - 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.
- 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
...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.

 

[HelioBM]

"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.
"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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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.

 

[HelioBM]

- 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.
- 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.

 

[HelioBM]

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.
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.