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

[HelioBM]

I'm a real man, with a capital letter M! I've taken down dozens of alien monsters and bandits, I'm surviving on an unfriendly planet! So why do I feel like I've been fucked over like a naive schoolgirl?
Probably because that's exactly what happened.
Moxie seems to have a thing for being at the top of the "who's having it" list. Nah, I can understand her, but... okay, bygones.

When I finally regenerated my pelvis and back and was able to get out of bed, I found a familiar face at one of the bar tables.
- You look like you fought hard, - Lilith remarked, swallowing a bite of hamburger. - You haven't been this ragged since the unicorn.
She talks like we've known each other a long time... It's for the best, I suppose.
- Uh-huh. - I sighed. - A desperate battle with the boss of the zone.
- And how was the result? - The girl asked. She eat her sandwich ad sipped drink from a tall brown mug.
- A draw - I reported, flattering myself a little. - But I'm not going to take a rematch anytime soon. I need to be sober about my strengths.
- Debatable, on both counts, - another female voice said, and I flinched. Shit, where and when did Moxie come from behind the counter...? - But the result was well worth it, sugar.
- Speaking of which - Lilith remarked, clearly (and probably fortunately) getting it all wrong. Well, judging by her next words. - What about my work?
- Just a couple minutes, dearie, - Moxie said. - First up, our hero of the day.
I walked up to the counter.
- Ms. Moxie, - I said, not quite sure how to address her. - Do you happen to have any succubi in your family?
- Hmm? - She said questioningly, raising an eyebrow. - I don't recall. Furies, no succubi.
You'd have to wonder how to take that. There's a joke in every joke, especially in this crazy world.
- In that case, breakfast, - I nodded.

While I was eating breakfast, Lilith had time to get her job and leave, but another MC I knew appeared at the bar: Brick. The big guy looked a little dazed, and when he saw me, he came toward me.
- Great - he said; I nodded. - Listen, you've been on this planet longer than me, right? - I nodded again. - Do you know who that weirdo is, the bony one with the blue eyes? He's either a magician or a traveling doctor.
...We-ell.

As I suspected, Brick met Death... or Death met Brick, heh. And it was, frankly, outrageous.
- Anything you'd like to say? - I asked, looking up at the sky. - I don't have the best opinion of you, but I thought you were playing fair. And here it turns out that I lost the drone, and everyone got an advantage for it? Is that it?
"Incoming message received!"
"Well, for my sake, if you've got Second Breath, protagonists cannot to not have it. Besides, you've managed to get an inappropriate bonus ahead of the plot again. Eridian relics actually started to be used much later, and you're already using the adapter."
- That doesn't mean I have to pay for everyone, - I pointed out. - I get my bonuses fairly. If you claim you stick to fair play, stick to it until the end.
"Incoming message received!"
"..."
"Incoming message received!"
"..."
Seriously, two messages with multiple dots.
"Incoming message received!"
"...Okay. Is it okay if the Vladoff don't pay attention to the ammo overruns from all your turrets? All will be connected to the supply module."
I wondered. Well, that's fair enough, in my opinion. Brings it closer to game mechanics - I'm sure that's how it would be there, that all turrets don't use up my ammo - instead of away from it, and quite convenient for me.
- Ok. I hope it continues to be fair, otherwise why set it up in the first place.

In fact, overall with this arrangement, I remain on the plus side, and quite significantly so. The main problem with multiple turrets is that they eat up my ammo. If I don't have that problem... Well, quantity turns to quality.
I smiled involuntarily. Life is looks bright!

Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*Shi*!
I shot behind my back at the sound and immediately jumped sideways; the skag landed heavily on the footprint my feet left in the dust. Swiftly I turned around, hesitating due to the bullet in my side. Alas, my revolver wasn't powerful enough to do much damage, not enough to kill, but it is something still. I'd have to get to that dump truck ahead... I'd already gotten rid of the rakks, but the shotgun was out of ammo.
It started out pretty good. Another point in the Dahl quarry indicated by Tannis, some side work, I even found something to sell in the workers' cabins (and Claptrap found someone's stash). Then I left the doucherobot to snoop around the huts and beyond, and headed out to mop up the area myself. Another colony of skithyds was destroyed easily, making me relax.
Unwisely. Relaxing on Pandora was fraught with danger.
The signs of a skag pack were obvious; piles of droppings, plus burrows in the quarry walls. So I set up the turrets, and walked up to the dens, luring the skags out. The first batch of critters bent easily and cheerfully, and then...
I don't think I need the adults. The ones that came out next.
Alpha skag, threat level 11. And that might not have been such a problem - the beast was nowhere near that megascag - if it hadn't been for two factors.
For starters, it wasn't a regular alpha, but an "elemental". I have no idea how this absurdity works ("Pandora" answers all questions just like "Magic" in some other setting), but some local mutants have... I'm not even sure how to put it... "charged" with the "element". I wouldn't be surprised if it's because of the Maliwan guns that were eaten - the "elements" are the same.
This one, with the green skin, was corrosive. And while normal skag burp quickly ate through metal, this one had... My poor turret melted like a candle in an oven from one spit.
And then came the second alpha.
In this situation, the most reasonable thing to do was to scramble, which I hurriedly did.
...It was definitely my bad day. From somewhere up the slope, a pack of rakks took to the air. Those things aren't really dangerous on their own, just territorial and annoying, but when they attack together with someone else, from the ground and from the air... it becomes a problem.
Like it was not problem before.
The grenade - how quickly they're used up... - made the acid creature hesitate and growl, but alas, it wasn't enough to kill the alpha. At least it gave me a chance to fire a shotgun volley at the diving rakks, halving the pack (at least someone on this planet is fragile... relatively), and to look for a place to take the fight - a dump with piles of waste rock and a couple of abandoned dump trucks. By the way, the mystery of the abandoned equipment was explained simply: there was no valuable technical stuffing left in these giants, all digitized and taken away, leaving only metal hulks.
The second skag got the remains of the "Wave" ammo block, and he (she?) did not like this gift. Reload on the run - why can't ECHO send ammo directly into the gun?!.. - and immediately unload again, first at the second half of the flock of restless rakks, and then at the angry skags... and not get spat on. I definitely will no longer go out on a mission without a ceramic layer in my armor.
A puddle of skag burp began to dissolve the stones - but still slowly - and I, with a heavy heart, threw the second grenade. Only one left...
The plus was that this sacrifice was not in vain: the explosion covered both alphas, and their health, along with greetings from "Wave", fell below half. The minus was that I suddenly ran out of ammo blocks for the shotgun. "Wave" is a powerful thing, but it uses double the amount of ammunition for each shot.
Unfortunately, machine gun fire was much less effective, and there was no way to catch the skags with a shot in their vulnerable mouths - I'd have to save my skin amidst their spitting and jumping... The hope was that piles of rock and trucks would provide some cover, especially if I managed to kill the corrosive skag first.
The last grenade... My heart was bleeding. But I'd rather it bleed than spill out.
Throw... shit. The learned creatures leapt to the sides. The corrosive crouched down and growled, opening its mouth... and immediately received a line from the machine gun, I emptied the entire pabe.
The skag's health bar is empty. Kudos to you... Vladoff, I guess.

Dealing with the lone remaining skag was relatively easy, and it rewarded me with a new level boost, but this incident was a sobering shower for me. I've been getting overconfident lately; unnecessarily so, as practice shows. In general, Pandora has been a bad influence on me; I've become much more likely to do rash things, more impulsive in general. This is uncharacteristic of either me, the Earthling, or my character. In the future, my motto should be "Caution, Preparation, and Self-Control".
It's decided, I'll do it. And no risk if it can be avoided.

* * *

All in all, Pandora turned out to be an interesting place. At least here, Siren was free to use her abilities without fear of being burned at the stake, or burning someone's property. What's more, her abilities also allowed her to earn money...
It was dangerous at times, yes. But she wasn't unused to danger.
On the other hand, some jobs were too risky for her alone. Or simply required missing skills.
Nothing unsolvable, though.
She made a call to the code stored in the ECHO. Paused for about five seconds, and the call was answered.
- Hey, what are you doing now? - The girl asked.
- I'm running - the man on the other end of the line responded. The sounds of gunshots could be heard, then - a roar and the sounds of blows. - No fucking risk... I apologize.
- If you're busy, I can call back later - Lilith suggested, listening with curiosity.
- No, I'm available for a chat with a beautiful girl, even for free - the engineer responded. - I'll just wash off the blood so that the shovel doesn't rust...
The girl decided that this definitely deserved a story. However, later.
- You invited me to a romantic walk with the extermination of bandits and skags - she said. - Well, I have a counterproposal. How would you feel about a little romantic fire genocide of varkids?
There was a short pause.
- Lady, well, how could I turn down such proposal?
Lilith grinned. It sounds like it would be fun.

 

[HelioBM]

Working with Lilith was... interesting. My character had a history of dealing with either civilians or mercenaries; in this case, it was probably something in between. The girl definitely had experience in survival and, well, not professional mercenary work, but something close to it, so she didn't have problems inherent to civilians like insecurity and tendency to panic, and she knew how to use weapons well, and any kind of weapon (although she preferred SG), but she had her own problems that needed to be corrected. First of all, she had very little, if any, experience in teamwork. And only half the trouble was with role-sharing and the like; more problematic was that she nearly fried me when she used her ability. Fortunately, she has a fair measure of control over the fire that occurs when she uses her ability, so it's a matter of practice and consideration, but the difficulties are there.
The second problem... well, this too is a matter of practice, generally speaking. Simply, the girl didn't know Pandora very well, and tended to underestimate it. I'm not an expert on the planet myself, obviously, but in the short time I've been here I've learned to respect it - in a bad way - and to be wary of it.
All in all, working together with the girl was good for me - especially for the future - but it was good for her first and foremost. Whatever "mysterious cosmic powers" the "siren" possesses, I'm 100% sure that Pandora is more than capable of chewing her up and digesting her without even noticing. Much more in her favor is the fact that she's obviously one of the main characters in the story. Plot armor is stupid to underestimate, even if AlBa honestly intends to play honest, pardon the tautology. And he does seem to be playing along with that, though it's hard to tell how much.
As for the "siren" abilities - they were entertaining, albeit rather odd. I didn't really question her - we're not that close - but some things were obvious. Her main ability, outwardly similar to delayed teleport, was actually closer to invisibility, with the addition of waves of fire when entering and exiting this sorta-invisibility. From what I understand, modern technology is quite capable of recreating this, at least in appearance; personal cloaking systems are rare but not unknown, and similar fire blasts are an option on some shields. All of which raises some vague questions about the nature of her powers.
That wasn't the only thing Lilith could do, however. For example, she could create an energy blast from her hand, which I had mistaken for a weapon when I first met her. It was only about half a meter long, not very powerful, but it was spectacular. She also seemed to have the rudiments of pyro- and electrokinesis, and used them almost unconsciously, both for defense and attack. The latter, however, in a rather odd way: nothing obvious, but as we worked together, I noticed again and again that her preferred elemental weapons were clearly more effective than they should be. I even checked; yes, in my hands, the same SG hits weaker. Interesting.
Anyway... I've held off on the "main quest" for now, especially since it's kind of progressing as it is - Tannis is working on the Eridian records. In the meantime, I'm going to try to more or less get the main characters, and them, to cooperate with each other. Lilith's call, so, was a surprise, but a pleasant surprise. And money is money.
The client we met in person was a large broad-shouldered man with a limp on his right leg. As he said, "I used to be a security guard for a corporation, but then a bullet hit me in the leg, and I realized that I'd rather be on the road of adventure... And then I settled down as a farmer." In general, a deserter, quite well, judging by the size of the farm and the order, settled down on this crazy planet.
As for the order - to clean up the territory, to fix the mobile drilling rig, to send the indicators, depending on them to conduct a second test drilling in another point. Nothing special, but Lilith couldn't handle the technical part herself - she had no knowledge or licenses. In fact, the only reason she took the job was because she remembered me.

Come, kill, leave. Routine. Only livened up by incidents like the time the siren nearly fried me, and a smattering of conversation along the way and in the process. Obviously, we didn't pour our hearts out to each other, but no time passed in silence.
I found out that the girl had never heard of the planet Earth, but she knew the planets Water, Mud, and Peanut Butter. She found out that most of an engineer's work is coffee makers, and that I get tangerines from my nominal boss instead of a salary. All in all, a very informative conversation.
- What can you tell me about the Vault? - Finally, the girl got to the point. I shrugged.
- It's there. And I strongly suspect I may get a lead on it after a while. Initially I was not going to bother with this venture, but life is so twisted at times... There is, however, a hitch. I'm a tough guy, but not tough enough to compete with all the people who want to get their hands on the treasury on their own.
- Are you recruiting? - Lilith asked.
- Informing, - I told her. - For now, it's still just an opportunity that may not materialize. If you think it's better to try on your own, it's up to you. If anything, we can always leave each other alone. We also have to live up to the issues of sharing the spoils. It's just that it's easier to live up to it as a team. Quantity turns to quality, after all.
- Vladoff's slogan? - Lilith asked.
- This too - i agreed.

We split the fee for the work equally. Objectively speaking, I did a little more, but I wasn't picky - money is money, relationships are relationships. I mean, in terms of the prospect of further free work. In terms of personal relationships, I'm not going for anything... especially not after Moxie anytime soon. And frankly, until I'm sure Lilith can control her abilities, I wouldn't risk it anyway.
All in all... Well, aside from making contact with Lilith - working contacts - I've gotten some ideas. Dahl's abandoned equipment might well be put to good use; it might be worth doing something like that. At least probe the ground, for starters, and take an inventory of what I've seen and where. Find some laborers, surround the camp with turrets... If i aim them inside, the workers won't even need to be paid. We could take out the bandits.
Hmm. It's an interesting prospect, but it's something we'll have to feel out and think about.

- There's not much use for raw materials on Pandora, dearie, - Moxie pointed out. - Without fabricators, it's of little use, and the fabricators are all in the hands of corporations... almost all of them.
She thought for a moment; tapped her neat, long fingernails on the counter.
- You know, sugar... What do you think of unverified information? - she finally asked.
- I think it should be verified - I remarked. The woman nodded.
- That's a good point. I have certain information that relates to your questions, but it needs to be verified.
She tapped her sleeve, then a few taps on the holographic interface that appeared, and an image appeared of a lanky man with an elongated face and a lopsided mustache, one side shorter than the other.
- Michael Slap - she informed me. - Was a storekeeper for the Dahl, now storekeeper for a gang, undecided on a name.
- Not decided on the name or its called so? - I clarified.
- Did not specified - replied the woman, looking at me and making sure that I am serious. - You can find out for yourself.
I nodded, and she continued.
- He might know where to find the Vanguard Support Fabricator and the keys to it.
О. That piqued my interest, to say the least. A Vanguard Support Fabricator is basically a field factory that's supposed to provide advanced units cut off from supply lines with whatever they need. First of all - low quality hand weapons and ammunition, but even the typical set of schemes includes various things, including household items, and the set can be expanded. It is true that new schemes are difficult to introduce, but even so - the thing is very valuable. Hell, just the ability to produce ammunition is enough to live on! On Pandora, ammo blocks can be used instead of money.
Which raises the question.
- Given that you did not hold on to this information - everything is complicated? - I inquired. The woman shrugged her shoulders.
- It's just unverified information. And even if it turns out to be true, it's just a first step.
I nodded.
- I see. Well, I guess I'll give it a try, but still - what's your interest?
Moxie smiled.
- Worried about me? That's nice. But don't worry, I won't let you down.
I'm sure you will.
- I don't doubt your abilities, and I don't mind that it's good for both of us, - I said. - Even if you end up with a bigger profit. I'd just like to know if there's anything I should be wary of separately.
- Nothing that could be considered a trick, sugar, - Moxie said. Despite the lighthearted words, her tone became more serious. - My interest is in the very elimination of this gang. I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.
I frowned. Her last words didn't sound lightweight at all. It was either personal, or she needed something on their property (more likely the latter, since she didn't know the exact name), but either way, if Moxie hadn't gotten rid of them yet, they were strong enough.
- A lot of people, or well entrenched? - I inquired. - Or are there pros?
- All together - Moxie didn't disappoint me. - A few dozen people in a Dahl outpost with infrastructure and defenses intact, including fixed turrets, and Dahl officers at the head, with licenses to run the defenses.
I grimaced. It wasn't worth it to go at it alone, even with heavy weapons, which I had trouble with.
- I'm not badass enough to storm a fortress alone, - I said. - The subject is probably sitting there unseen, isn't he?
- As far as I know, - Moxie agreed. It's getting better and better... If I was holding the defense alone, that would be fine. But my "character class" is much better suited to defense than offense.
No, I can't do it alone.
But if not alone… Hmm. There are options. Theoretically, I could even hire someone... but I'd have to either pay or share. I don't have much money, I don't want to share. How can I make it so that I can be rich and healthy, and preferably without getting paid for it...?
The door of the bar opened, and in walked-- Oh. Roland.
Moxie and I looked at each other.
- Mr. Dethlove, Miss Moxie, - the black man nodded to me, and focused on the hostess. Uh... Well, if I were the main character, that name would be appropriate, I guess. I could tell he'd misheard.
I didn't correct Roland, though, not yet.
- Do you have a job? - The black knight asked. - I've heard that you can do it.
- Actually, sugar, you're just in time, - Moxie said. - We were just talking about that.
Well, there you go. Now all that's left is to contract the main character to do an impossible quest for a ridiculous small amount of money.
Simple as that.

 

[HelioBM]

Stationary turrets... That's a separate story. Compared to portable infantry turrets, they're like a tank compared to a knight. In fact, it's a whole building, not only with its own controlling AI - it's just a bit more advanced than the one on my turret - but also with a self-supporting complex. It is true that the latter is often very economical, but nevertheless such a turret is more than capable of working without supervision and maintenance for many years and even decades.
Dahl installed many of them on Pandora. They were very cheap for the corporation, and they guarded the borders of the areas where the Dahl worked, or set up recreational and supply centers, or farms. The simple AI directive was that any object without an identification code approaching a certain boundary would be warned first, then shot dead with a large-caliber cannon.
The Dahl then fled without even thinking to at least disable the turrets - why do it? After all, it wasn't their problem.
The result was... odd, I'd say, but nothing special for Pandora.
Most of the more or less colonized areas of the planet are still surrounded by concrete turrets, firing on anyone who tries to cross the perimeter. A kind of invisible - and lethal - wall.
Which don't really bother anyone, really. Aside from the fact that the most populated areas are connected by roads that are not blocked by turrets, there are a number of ways to overcome this rather sloppy and hole-filled defense. Underground passages, air - turrets can shoot down air targets, but their range is short - FTS stations, maybe something else... So this "fence" is both there and not there. Probably more good than harm, though - the turrets shoot Pandorian wildlife from outside the zones. It's not that it stops the skags from breeding inside, and they use the underground passages, but at least it's something.
And somewhere these turrets are guarding some of the Dahl facilities. I'm not sure why not all of them, given that they're quite effective; it's probably due to the limited range, so if they decide to take the object they're guarding seriously, they'll just destroy it from a distance - turrets can't shoot down artillery shells and missiles, and something more advanced can be put on an object that deserves serious defense from the start.
In any case, there are a number of fortified objects of moderate importance, equipped with one or two turrets. Most of them are adequately protected from outsiders by these turrets - even on this insane planet, few private citizens have their own artillery and missiles, or "large caliber" lasers - but... When the Dahl escaped, they left not only their buildings and equipment, but also their personnel on Pandora.
A lot of personnel.
A fucking lot of personnel.
And not just ordinary laborers, colonists, and other low-ranking folk. Among the abandoned on the planet - maybe some of them were left behind? Who knows... - there were those with certain powers and access.
Come to think of it, Tannis is one of them.
In any case, there were officers left on Pandora who had access to control those turrets. And some of them, when they became bandits, couldn't help but take advantage of a gift like a fortress with cannons. A real castle that would make you a king, even an official one... And that's what I had to deal with.

I managed to convince Roland... well, I'm not sure if it was "as easy as expected from the protagonist and the quest", or still oriented to more realistic and less "game-like" expectations. But either way - I was able to do it. By promising a trophy share, including rewards for bandit heads, plus, if it works out, a lifetime discount on ammo.
But before I could actually act - or rather, before I could decide whether to act - I had to do some reconnaissance. Roland may be a MC, but he was still a professional military man.
Speaking of which, he was almost like a colleague of mine. A vanguard fighter with technical support in the form of a personal turret. And speaking of that "personal"... I remembered, or rather "remembered" something hard to say how significant, but interesting.
Turrets of various kinds are used very widely. Why aren't there equally widespread use of methods to hack and take control of them? And why does a deserter, which Roland is - I don't want to say anything bad about him, I know too little about him, but it's a fact - still have his turret, which is supposedly Atlas' property? Well, it's all connected.
The AI that controls the personal turrets (and ECHO) has several layers of protection and owner recognition, at least one of which is tied to the owner's DNA. Literally, the DNA code is used as a crypto-key. I'm still not sure why corporations don't leave some sort of backdoor to be able to at least remotely disable, but at any rate it's literally impossible to hack even a simple AI turret or ECHO. At the same time it is some kind of insurance against personal tech revolt, without a DNA key it can't work.
Obviously there are subtleties here that I don't know about, but the big picture is this. Personal AI is unhackable, and often can't change owners... frankly, it reminds me of familiars, a concept from fantasy, in a technogenic version.
It would seem that personal equipment should have weaker defenses than powerful corporate installations, but the opposite is true; bosses and staff in corporations change, so it's impractical to tie control rigidly and unchangeably to any one person. Hacking defenses are still very serious hard, but some options do appear.
First of all, though, usually the most basic and simple is to get physical access keys. Well, or digital, the point remains, especially with the technology of digitalization, it's practically the same thing.

A small concrete building surrounded by a wall, roughly the same as Don Quail's outpost. Two turret turrets controlling opposite directions, slightly smaller caliber than the border turrets, but still more than enough to kill. If there was some alternate entrance like the one again available at that outpost, no sign of it was visible. Not a lot of people were visible yet either, but there were shacks being built both behind and in front of the wall; the local boss was definitely planning to develop.
That's the bad news. Of the good... There was no good news.
- We could have a sniper siege - Roland suggested thoughtfully. - Or try to impersonate the gang's recruits, given that they're expanding, it shouldn't be difficult, and then start acting inside... But if we can't get control of the turrets, it'll be difficult to leave the facility.
I nodded.
- We'd have to find out who has the keys, take them alive, and force them to hand them over... Too risky, on many levels. Even without turrets it is problematic, and with them at all...
I grimaced.
Roland's ECHO came to life; he frowned and looked at the device, but the next moment the situation became clearer: there was a hologram of Angel in front of us. And I wondered why she didn't show up after the first contact...
- If the problem is the turrets, I can help you, - she said. - I can't hack into them, it's beyond my capabilities, but I can affect the secondary systems and block them from firing... temporarily.
She's a bit too... familial, but it would actually be useful. If we can trust her.
Roland's presence helped, though. The protagonist isn't going to die that easily, so this can't be a setup to get rid of us. Especially since we haven't done anything for this suspicious non-Shodan yet, so it's too early to get rid of us, but it's quite an opportunity to gain some trust.
- I have reason to believe she can be trusted in this situation, - I said. - What do you think?
- Hmm... - the black man said. - Angel, is there anything else you can do? Information on the floor plan, personnel, anything?
- There are a couple of surveillance cameras in the building - after a pause the hologram answered. - I'm trying to connect to them... done.
Two more holograms appeared next to the one representing it, showing a couple of rooms - a long empty corridor, to be more exact, and a barrack with several bunk beds, on which half a dozen people were lying.
- Not much, - Roland said, and I nodded.
- I'm transmitting a map of these rooms and the video feed from the cameras to your ECHOs, - Angel added, and I received a notification of an incoming message.
- That's something, - Roland remarked. - What about the intercom?
- ...I think I can keep you up to date on their negotiations.
- Now it's beginning to look like a plan of operation, - my partner for the mission said with a nod. - We'll be counting on your support when it begins.
The hologram nodded and disappeared.
- Experience in commanding idiots? - I inquired.
- Experience in commanding idiots, - Roland nodded.

We finally gave up on the attempt to infiltrate under the guise of wanting to join. Or rather, we adjusted the plan, because neither Roland nor I had the slightest desire to go through the "newcomers' test". We both didn't like robbing and beating civilians, and we didn't want to work with them afterwards.
So we decided to do things a little differently.
Most gangsters are very careless and inattentive. Even if this gang is led by former officers, they are not able to eliminate such qualities in their subordinates - rather, minions - they are too low-quality human material. If the gang consisted entirely of professionals who had deserted or abandoned on Pandora, that would be another matter, but the language we captured confirmed that there were only a few of them. So instead of recruiting, we "recruited" a recruiter to pass under the guise of recruits... um. I'm surprised I didn't get confused by that word construction myself.
In any case, the remote-controlled bomb in the bandit's pants - Roland's idea, my execution - quickly induced him to cooperate. To be on the safe side, Roland and I put on face-hiding trophy gas masks, and accompanied by our "key", aka "tongue", went to the castle of the self-proclaimed Baron Flint.

It turned out to be much easier than I expected. No one was paying much attention to us; if our "key" had signaled something, there would have been trouble, but he wasn't taking any chances. So we just walked confidently, like people who knew what they were doing and were probably engaged in some important business, into the "castle".
We stopped in a deserted alley - and our thug settled down with a knife in the back of his head. Roland's quick and precise blow seemed to separate the skull from the spinal column.
Ruthless and effective.
Roland sat the corpse in the corner and listened. I noticed the sound of footsteps, too; the ex-Atlas man pointed his chin toward the corpse, and I nodded, sitting down beside him and patting his cheeks.
- Dude, what's wrong? - I said, sounding concerned. Roland stepped out into the hallway.
- Hey, bro, come here, I need a doctor's help, - I heard his voice say.
- I don't--
- I knew you'd don't refuse, - Roland interrupted the bandit. - You got a face just like a doctor's.
- Hey, I-oh, fuck you. Somebody's drunk off their ass again, isn't he?
The bandit that came out of the hallway-- Uh. He had a wooden mask on his face. Anyway, I stood up and stepped aside, pointing at the corpse.
- Wo, bro's in bad shape...
The masked bandit sighed and crouched down next to him... only to immediately receive a knife to the back of his head from Roland, who was following him.
- I could use another one... - the soldier said thoughtfully, taking off his mask.

This should have been the beginning of a story of heroic endurance and the desperate struggle of two against many in the stone bowels of a bandit stronghold. The reality, however, was somewhat different.
Instead of a shooter, it was stealth action mixed with tower defense.
"Look, there's a straight corridor here on the first floor, there are rooms here. Right here" - Roland jabbed his finger at the image Angel provided - "the wall between the rooms is half destroyed. So if..."
Two turrets at the end of the corridor. Cover them with corpses.
We're good to go.
Open the door on the right, throw a cluster grenade, - Roland's modifier - close the door. My partner was doing the same thing with the door on the other side, but instead of a grenade he threw a small black box - a compact module of the Scorpion turret.
Most corporations have a portable turret ideology that is radically different from what Vladoff uses. If our turret is just a digital construction scheme plus network AI, the others use special modules. The main advantage is faster deployment, only a couple of seconds against about five seconds when using typical digital construction through ECHO, but such turrets are more difficult to modernize - not impossible, but more difficult - and if the module is damaged, there are difficulties with its repair, unlike the non-material-based CRETINy turrets of the Vladoff.
The turret's cannon rumbled to the screams of the bandits; I smashed the door with my shoulder and flew into the room, killing the big guy who had managed to survive. The room was expectedly and unpleasantly covered in blood, but there were no survivors left.
For a second, Roland's turret - which quickly silenced - was joined by my sweet couple's shots; apparently someone from across the hall had jumped out into the corridor. Making sure I really didn't have anyone alive here, I glanced at the camera image transmitted to my ECHO; the corridor was empty. Roland had managed to disappear; he got the stealth part of the event and I got the fun towers. Set up another turret in front of the doorway, and now the Wave at the ready.
I didn't have to wait long. The camera image showed several bandits coming down the stairs; a big guy with a shotgun, two of normal height (one with a mask, the other with just a plastered face), and a dwarf. The dwarf was holding a pilot-assault rifle and a grenade, the other two had automatic rifles.
I waited for them to walk down the corridor, estimated their positions and trajectory from the camera, and fired a load of circular saws.
An engineer is not only a set of typical licenses, but also good spatial imagination, knowledge of geometry, and the ability to play billiards... nah, you have to do something between missions, right? I'm not talking about coffee makers - that goes without saying.
The absurd physics of this absurd planet makes all fired disks keep their angle regardless of ricochets, and it makes it very easy to estimate the trajectory, but even so to calculate it and hit the target accurately is at least problematic, especially when you are aiming at the ECHO image transmitted from the camera. Still, I... well, let's just say I did it.
In fact, the corridor was narrow enough that it was almost impossible to miss. It was more a question of where they would hit, and how much of their damage would be lost in ricochets, but these weapons were designed for ricochets, so not much.
And one disk hitting the neck was enough. For all the survivability of the Homo Recens, the neck is still a vulnerable place; after all, it's where the arteries that feed the brain pass through.
That's why I wear a steel collar on my armor. The bandits, however, neglected such protection.
Another advantage of the "Wave" was that this "shotgun" fires without rattle and flash, so the bandits did not even realize what came from where. However, they realized that they were targets here and ran back to the stairs. Well... "Don't run from a sniper, you'll die tired" is now in the "don't run from a turret" variation.
I picked up the weapons that had fallen out of the corpses' hands - including a grenade, mm-yum... - and returned to my position. Then, after thinking for a second, I moved to the room on the other side. It was a little cleaner after Roland's turret than after the grenade, and it wouldn't hurt to put another turret here.
I stuffed the corpses from corridor in the "grenade" room, so that they wouldn't be immediately conspicuous.
The next batch of bandits acted smarter: a big guy with a big shield was in front, two machine gunners were behind him, and a punk with a sniper gun was left near the stairs, wiggling the barrel from side to side. I sighed sadly. Well, as it came, so it went....
This time the ricochet was simpler, untargeted, and with a grenade. Modern grenades don't react to blows, you can even hit them with a sledgehammer (though you shouldn't, take a pity for poor thing), so it didn't do anything from hitting the wall.
But to the walls, after activation by timer - quite well.
Bandits, even more so.
Most modern material shields can withstand bullets, even large caliber ones, but they are relatively vulnerable to explosions. And more importantly, my grenade split into many small grenades flying in all directions, some of which simply flew over the shield, falling behind the shield-bearer's back - or even on his shoulders and head.
The blast wave rolled down the corridor, mostly past me. The turrets hopefully covered the corpses, but the bandits... well, the grenades didn't kill the machine gunners - which, however, was immediately fixed by the turrets. As I had hoped, they are safe, my cuties...
There was still a sniper alive - before the volley from the "Wave".
Second Wave on the second wave of hostiles. All right, let's go.
This time I didn't have time to remove the corpses: a third wave followed. The camera survived, too, and I saw only two people coming down the stairs. Large, but of ordinary human size; both with shields - and with "shields". Both the usual tangible plate of armored material to cover against frontal fire, and comprehensive energy protection.
Also, and this was far more disturbing, both of them were not in their usual bandit gear, but identical armored suits with white Dahl triangles.
"Ex-Dahl officers, threat level: 12," the ECHO reported.
From behind the shield, a grenade flew into the corridor, with a sort of humming sound....
Reflexes, or perhaps instincts, worked faster than reason. Activate ECHO, start the barricade's digital construction program. Seal the doorway. The sound of a grenade... homing modifier.
Explosions erupted outside; dust kicked up, but my barricade... not that it "held," it just recovered.
Turrets rumbled, but... I won't even put a tangerine on them in this fight.
Should I use a grenade? The two remaining ones? With shields and armor, even that might not be enough. I still have my trump cards in the form of turrets in the side rooms, but the enemy already knows where I am and will expect fire from them. They'll probably use grenades again now; besides, they can cover each other with shields, and sweep the rooms with grenades and shotguns.
A rustle made me turn around, ruining the tactical plans I'd been making, and I narrowly dodged the sawaxe in the dwarf's hands. Not quite dodged, actually; my shield was halfway down.
And then a second dwarf emerged from a narrow vent hole in the wall.
In games, it's always MCs climbing through vents. For some reason, almost no one thinks that enemies can do it too.
The rifle in the second dwarf's hands rang out, knocking down the rest of my shield, and I parried the sawaxe with my shovel.
- Sir, your second is violating the gentlemanly rules of dueling! - I said.
- What? - the dwarf with the shotgun asked perplexedly, even pausing its reloading, and immediately got in the face with his friend, whom I kicked in his direction.
- How the cultural level has fallen - I noted judgmentally, shooting the axeman with my pistol. His head exploded... hmmm, no brains visible. - No intellectual one either.
Another dwarf came out of the vent, this time with a knife at his height. The turret installed in the room finally came to life; not sure why it took so long, will need to run diagnostics if I survive. Either way, coming in with a knife to a gunfight isn't too sensible... A shovel is another matter.
The barricade in the doorway shuddered under the gunfire outside. I don't like this situation...
I pick up the dwarf's shotgun, and start digitally building another turret. My shield rebooting, but I'm not injured; however, a couple enemies behind the wall remain a problem. I even missed an opportunity to use a grenade.
A glance at the camera image, a glance at the barricade - covered in cracks, won't last long - and the digital construction starts up again. Not another barricade, but close.
A shield of wood, metal, and ceramic appears in my hand, a slightly modified version of the one I used in the skirmish with the Eridian guardian. It would only withstand a couple or three shots, really, but it should be enough for me.
My energy shield rebooted; another shot from outside blew a hole in the barricade, and I immediately slammed my shield into the barricade, shattering it and smashing it into the shield.
And at the same time - turning the enemy a little to the side, and opening his side for the turrets.
The bluish shroud of the shield flickered and disappeared under the twin volleys; the armor didn't last long either. No, the Dahl fighter tried to retreat and get out of the limited firing zone, but I caught him in the shoulder with the edge of my shovel. A second and he was down with a bleeding hole in his side; the ECHO showed that his health bar was empty.
The second man of Dahl, standing nearby, obviously realized it too, because he threw another grenade, aiming over my head.
He shouldn't have done that.
Before the grenade could detonate - I couldn't hear the engines humming, so it wasn't homing - it met the shovel, sending it flying back.
An explosion, and I rushed forward. The grenade returned to its owner didn't kill him, but it knocked his shield down and stunned him, and I couldn't let the opportunity pass. The enemy still had time to fire his shotgun, but my shield held; sopromat rules. There was no time or need to change weapons; I just slammed my weight into the shield, knocking the enemy into the wall, and began to strike with my shovel. To the arm, to the head... Kick to the legs, again with the blade....
In the battle between the Dahl armor and the Vladoff shovel, the shovel won.
From somewhere above came the rumble of gunfire and explosions. Roland wasn't wasting any time either, apparently. I grinned, and after making sure the second enemy was dead, I unhooked the shield from his arm. It'll come in handy.
I didn't have time to look around for other goodies - more enemies might show up at any moment, and I couldn't even hear them over the noise - so I just retreated back to my position. We'll collect the trophies later.
- Do you need support? - just in case, I asked on the line dedicated to Roland. - And by the way, Angel, do you have anything to report?
- Not necessary, I'm almost done - my partner said.
- He was almost done - Angel confirmed.

That wasn't an exaggeration. I spent some more time and effort on the new guests from the ventilation - this time, unexpectedly, a few skags, and unexpectedly, varkids - and then...
- The second floor has been cleared - Roland reported.

Actually, the operation didn't end there. First we combed the building for hiding people - we found a couple of bandits and some civilians, hostages and servants - and then we waited for the absent bandits to return to the base, who also had to be eliminated.
All told... A dozen dead in the bedrooms (plus the two next to them), thirteen at my place, twelve at Roland's on the second floor, a dozen more returnees....
- I expected it to be harder - Roland voiced my thoughts. I shrugged.
- Well, four hands can do a lot of work.
Yes, it was a trap - there were two of us.
All kidding aside, even though it was relatively easy, it was only because of Roland and Angel's information. I extended my hand to the ex-Atlas man.
- We did a good job. I hope we can continue working together in the future.
He nodded and shook my hand.

 

[HelioBM]

We got a lot of trophies. The weapons and ammunition of the bandits - some of them, though they used digital storage, had specialized modules instead of ECHOs, or no protection at all, or minimal protection that could be opened - were only a small part of the booty. Roland took Michael Schlepp, the gang's storekeeper, alive, and he opened up our treasury and armory.
Sometimes the risk pays off. That's not to say this gang was particularly rich or well-armed, but... To start with Roland's trophy, which he honestly took from the ringleader's body. A revolver from Tedior, one of the "unique series" they used for their advertising campaign a few years ago. Not only is it basically good in every way, but it comes with a bonus of free ammo every day, a special service from the manufacturer.
I am envious.
However, Roland earned this weapon honestly, and we had discussed the division of trophies in advance. And most importantly, I didn't miss out either. Though the armory had no weapons comparable to this revolver, there was a worthy analog from Jacobs, with all its advantages and disadvantages. No free ammo, and worse overall, but still. There was also a decent assault rifle from Vladoff, a grenade modifier... Unfortunately, there was no decent shield.
However, all this was secondary, and even money was not the main thing, although there was a lot of it in the "treasury".
I'll start with the dubious.
There were several Eridian artifacts in the ringleader's collection. "Slight increase in survivability", "slight increase in resistance to fire", "moderate increase in dexterity"... I risked trying the last one, since its effect should be the most noticeable... well, what can I say - it was easier to reload weapons. And the recoil is easier. Not much, but noticeable. Perhaps even worth using... Resistance to fire can also be useful, in certain situations.
The second point... perhaps it would be worth saying "regrettable". The collection included not only Eridian relics, including the Eridian cannon, by the way. There were also trophies taken from corporate agents. A Hyperion night vision device, a shoulder support system for the Dahl themselves, an Atlas electronic cartridge belt... Vladoff's engineering visor.
Quite old, but still better than mine - higher quality, and more functions. Considering that no special licenses are required to use it, I immediately replaced mine with it. Thank you, unknown comrade, for your contribution to my well-being...
The third item is definitely useful. Several license keys, a couple of used ones, for multiple users, and a few disposable ones. Maybe the bandit planned to sell them, I don't know. A few relatively useless ones, but one of them was for synthesizing armor alloy; weak, between "civilian" and "for junior officers", but even so far better than the plain steel I've had to use. And it's a good thing if the steel is...
Anyway, even though it required materials to synthesize - solvable - it was stronger and lighter than what I was using now, even in its basic form. And you could use layered composite, and use the right angles of plating... All in all, my survivability would have to go up. The car could be strengthened, too, again.
The next, fourth, item... Weird. Well, at least by the standards of normal planets. Nothing surprising on Pandora, I suppose.
An invitation, with an electronic access key, to a certain "Club of the Badasses". I would have just ignored it, were it not for two factors.
First, my ECHO flagged it as an important object, even before I noticed it myself. And second, the thing came with the ringleader's journal, which... shall we say, described its usefulness.
According to his entries, some lunatics, the founders of this club, well... gave out rewards for doing crazy things. "Badass," it said. Show proof on the site, get points for it, points could be exchanged for rewards. There was a list of tasks, plus you could submit something of your own to the founders. The late leader, according to his records, even got some licenses from this "club". Hmm. I'd say it's like a way to get extra cash on top of the levels. Hey, Almighty Bastard, you got anything to say?
It don't. The fact that the ECHO pointed to the key spoke for itself, though.
And then there was the storekeeper. Or rather, that he actually had the information I needed.
- In ca-caves, under the Dahl's av-avannpost on the Dead Mountain stashed fab-fabricator - shifting his gaze from Roland to me and back, confessed a small man with a large bald spot, desperately afraid of us. - Sunny Ku-kuk took the processor module, John Three Crosses took the activator key. Then they f-fought to the death, and fought for a long time, until the Three Crosses finished Sunny off. On this occasion he had a big drunken party, after which his drunken self was eaten by skags. But Sunny had a son, Moonny, who got the processor. He made an amulet out of it and wore it around his neck until he gave it to his lover, Catherine Puffass. In the end, when she separated from Moonny, she sold the amulet to a shaman from the island of Wam-Bam, from whom, in turn, the amulet was stolen. After that, the amulet was lost for a while, until it resurfaced in Ma-Marcus Kincaid's shop, where a tramp traded it for a revolver.
- Listen, how do you know all this? - I asked puzzled.
- Rumor mills is grinding - The storekeeper shrugged his shoulders. - As for the key, the skag that ate it was soon shot by Mordecai the hunter, and then the next day he exchange the key in Moxie's bar for drink.
...
If it wasn't for the helmet, I'd be rubbing my temples. Moxie, you glorious bastard lady... I'm pretty sure she knew all that. Well, maybe not all of it, but the location of the key components.
I feel like a goddamn protagonist.

And what did Moxie say in response to my "report"? "Oh, that's how it is."
At least she didn't break call out at that, though the image did disappear briefly. When it returned, the woman was holding a cocktail glass.
- Sorry, darling, work is work, - she remarked, pushing the cocktail somewhere on the counter. - So you need a key and a processor.
- That would be nice, - I replied sarcastically.
- Hmm. How about a deal? I'll get you the "amulet" from Marcus if you help me improve my base, which you and Roland so kindly freed from bandits.
Bitch. But for some reason I'm not even angry.
- Agreed - I sighed. Considering that she started with the item that was listed as Marcus's, and not hers, I can assume that we'll have to work separately for the key.
Well, what can I say - Moxie does not disappoint.
Although this time she had me much less pleasantly.

Moxie wanted to turn the fort into a new arena that would be not just a fortified area, but a special... complex, with a set of devices that would "add fire," including literal ones. Serious work, and requiring, for a change, not only the use of ready-made technical solutions through licenses, but also real work in various directions - from design to debugging.
It's worth giving the lady credit: she didn't try to make the most of the situation. The captured building, objectively, was not needed by me or Roland, and she paid for the work not only with CPU, but also with cash. Moxie has an extremely strong grip - in every sense of the word, yes... - but she's also great at manipulating others without making enemies. Yes, I got screwed (again), but it remained mutually beneficial.
Starting to admire this woman, frankly.

 

[HelioBM]

The processor unit is actually not just a processor (with control AI included), but a set of intentionally flashed schematics of what the fabricator can produce.
It was in the part where they were stored that the hole for the thread was drilled.
This explained why Marcus didn't try to get the fabricator for himself: it was mostly the weapon's digital schematics that was damaged, or rather destroyed. The unit allowed testing through external devices, and my ECHO diagnostics showed losses.
However, the unit was still quite working, and there were enough working schematics for my needs. Including cartridge blocks of all kinds. There were armor plates and shields, but they were of such low quality that I wouldn't even be able to sell them cheaply, and I wouldn't use them. Especially with a trophy license for armor alloy.
And anyway, it's still the skin of an unkilled bear. In order to turn into the larva of a tycoon-industrialist, I still need to collect the materials for evolution - that is, the access key, and the fabricator itself. And then I need to extract the raw materials for processing.
...It all sounds like I'm going to be settling down to live on Pandora. What a... strangely unperceived as absurd thought.
And, speaking of absurd thoughts... Roland and I made a nice profit on our last crazy venture. So now and then the thought began to arise - if this venture was so profitable, then maybe it wasn't a crazy at all?
I'm fighting it. The remnants of common sense are more valuable the less of them there are, just like with any other resource.

After Roland left on his own, having taken his honestly earned share, I took up a new job in my specialty, given to me by Moxie - at first alone, then other workers arrived, bandits in appearance, but quite worthy builders. And - this brought unexpected bonuses. The building had to be remodeled to fit Moxie's needs (a couple times I thought it would be easier to build from scratch), and in the process I came across a secret vault. Some money and ammo - including a stockpile of grenades, regular and rocket-propelled! - and a strange Eridian relic. Nah, they're all weird, but this one's weirder than usual. It looks remotely like a shard of a very thick-walled vase, and the ECHO identified it as an "Eridian relic. Fragment ????" And it marked it specifically. It's a quest item, probably even a story item... I'll give it to Tannis later and let her handle it.
But first, I'll attach the tracker. Just in case.
I also had to clear another area for the archaeologist, where I encountered an incident strange even for Pandora. As usual, I was clearing the usual wildlife, the standard set of skags, rakks, and skithyds, as suddenly a bullet flew in from somewhere. Well, or rather, the ECHO showed from which side bullet hit the shield, of which there is still fifteen percent, no more. Sniper, definitely... I immediately took cover behind the prepared wall - remember, children, caution first! - and was only a fraction of a second ahead of the next bullet. The ECHO AI again indicated the direction of the shot, and I let my shield recover and tried to see the enemy. Barely had time to move my head away, avoiding another bullet...
Well, I won't drag out this story - it was tense, but rather tedious - and I'll get right to its denouement. The sniper was a skag.
...Yeah.
I find that hard to believe, but it's a fact. It looks like the skag tried to swallow the sniper, but it couldn't fit all the way in, so the barrel was sticking out of its mouth. And this thing was somehow managing to fire the gun in a way that was beyond common sense.
P-pandora, my ass. That's the kind of environment you have to work in.

- What do you want me to do? - I asked incredulously.
In exchange for the key, this Pandorian showbiz (and entertainment industry in general) owner wanted nothing more than to have me fight in her arena. As she stated, "a good fighter will contribute to the spectacle and promotion..."
- Isn't that a bit of a complicated scheme if you want to get rid of me? Although, this way you won't have to pay a hitman, and you'll have a show... Anyway - nope.
I've given it some thought.
- And by the way, it's not gonna work for you. I'll either set up a bunch of turrets in advance, or I'll cheat in some other way, but either way, it won't be a show. After all, my motto is "caution and discretion."
Moxie raised an eyebrow and looked at the 'Money is Money' inscription on my armor.
- It's a new motto, - I explained. - Life makes you grow on yourself and set new goals. I'll write it down later. In any case, this option does not suit neither you nor me.
- All right - the woman did not insist. - In that case, another option. I need someone to deliver a package to a friend of mine, and take something from him.
I looked at her suspiciously.
- Was this option prepared in advance to look like an good alternative to the first one? - I asked.
- Why not? You can take any of them - this fox said. I've given it some thought.
- How much more problematic would he be than the first option?
- It's less dangerous, - she said instead of answering, confirming my suspicions. - It's just that... Crazy Earl is a bit... difficult to communicate with.
I thought about it some more.
- Is he deaf and mute and living in a bunker that has to be reached through skag packs and minefields?
Moxie looked at me with interest.
- Have you thought about working as a fortune teller? You bet there'd be customers.
I sighed.
- How good was my guess?
- Fifty percent, - the lady said. - Usually fortune-tellers don't get more than twenty, so think about this career.

I finally agreed. In fact, it was obvious from the start that I would. Moxie managed to convince me that she'd given me this "quest" instead of doing it herself not only because of its complexity (there was no question of "not so much"), but also for a number of reasons ranging from personal animosity to the fact that I was on hand in time... at least, not under her heel.

The fact that the object of my assignment was nicknamed "crazy" didn't bother me; the same Moxie is also called "Mad Moxie." Anyway, look for someone normal on this crazy planet. I can't even vouch for me. Besides, he's not deaf and dumb, and he's out of land mines. I guess.
Anyway, I just needed to get to the bunker through the skag-filled junkyard. It was nothing.
The main thing was to make sure those skags didn't turn out to be - again - armed.

Have you danced with the devil... uh, not quite the case. For all the evilness of the skags, there's no way they're the devil, even the ones that belch fireballs (elemental effects, yes).
However, the pale light of Elpis, Pandora's moon, gave the scene a slightly mystical look. Piles of wreckage of some sort of machinery, including even whole vehicles, overgrown with Pandorian vegetation and mosses in places, fluorescent flowers poking through the metal. The growling, the whining, the sounds of gunfire and the squeal of circulars ricocheting off metal... Fantastically exciting.
At least from the outside. On a computer screen, it must have been interesting and maybe even beautiful.
For me, it was intense and dangerous work.
Yes, it's probably worth noting that as a result of Moxie's last assignment - and closing part of the quest chain - I gained another level, reaching 13 (hopefully a number of no consequence), which brought me another portion of the agony of choice. Two portions, actually, as I discovered to my considerable annoyance that I still hadn't used a point from the last promotion.
However, this time the decision was made quickly, albeit with a bit of doubt. One point each in Technical Competency, closing it out, and in Basic Military Training. Turrets are the basis of my combat power, plus this skill helps a lot with other things, and military training on Pandora is like school education on normal planets: you can't get anywhere without it.
And these two upgrades clearly demonstrated their value during the walk to the abode of a psycho living in a junkyard among skags. Especially when combined with the new armor materials.

Despite the improved eyesight and the fact that Elpis provided ample reflected light, visibility in the junkyard was poor. The mountains of junk weren't light-conducive, you know... Skags could come out of just about anything, so I grudgingly accepted the waste of ammo as fact and shot first for sound, having quickly learned to distinguish wind sounds from extraneous sounds. And now - something squeaked, clattered, and I immediately fired a volley from the shotgun - a regular one - in that direction.
- Meow - quite unconvincingly, and even mechanically, came from the direction where I heard the sound. Well, at least it wasn't a skag....
- There are no cats on Pandora - I reported.
- ...Woof? - After a short pause, the unknown person suggested.
- Dogs, too - I hummed, lowering the shotgun. - A free recommendation: next time, you should study the fauna of the planet you're traveling to.
- Thanks for the advice, meat bag, - said the voice. I immediately raised the shotgun again, and asked suspiciously:
- Claptrap?
- I have nothing to do with this disgrace of a robotkind! - said the voice indignantly. - Don't insult me by comparing me to these inferior, non-functional, aesthetic-less parodies of a real death machine!
- I won't believe it until I see it, - I said firmly. As far as I could hear, the voice came from the same height as Claptrap's. - Get out, or I'll spare no grenade.
A bluff, but it worked.
- All right, all right, but don't shoot - the voice hastily reported, and from behind a pile of junk rolled out... rolled out....
This unit was really unlike the woe-robot, the owner of which I have the misfortune to be, but its appearance - primarily the design and coloring, white-blue-orange, stirred in me unpleasant memories.
- Maliwan? - I asked suspiciously, and it sounded threatening even without my intention.
- That's right, let me introduce myself: T0ST-R2D2 of the Maliwan clan, former Minister of Economy of the Free Confederation, - he tried to bow, but it didn't work well on wheels.
...О. Indeed. Toaster.
- Be thankful you wasn't a coffee maker, - I muttered, loosening my grip on the weapon slightly. - I have a short conversation with Maliwan coffee makers. What are you doing here?
- Well... It's pretty intimate, - the robot folded its arms, similar to Claptrap's. I pointed my gun at him suggestively. - But, as a demonstration of my friendly intentions... You see, I'm a refugee. After the unfortunate end of the Free Confederacy, I was probably the last survivor. A lucky chance allowed me to arrive on this remote planet, leaving my past behind, but fate has condemned me to loneliness...
- Anyway - I interrupted him.
- Anyway, I'm trying to reproduce, - the robot said with a touch of irritation. Oh. Well, there are materials here, I suppose. However...
- Uncontrolled self-reproduction by robots is actually forbidden, - I remarked.
- We can make a deal - the robot noted.
- Like what? - I asked.
- For example... Attack, my brothers! - shouted the toaster and rushed for cover, and then shots rang out from all sides.
...I knew I couldn't trust Maliwan's tech.
- Uh, my brothers? - The robot repeated uncertainly from behind the pile of junk he was hiding behind. - Brothers! Sisters?
I clapped my hand on my chest, the inscription on which now read "Caution and discretion above all else - but money is money".
- I've got a turret set up at every convenient point, - I announced, walking over to the toaster. - Any last words?
- All I wanted was to create an army of killer robots and take over the world. Is that too much to ask? - the robot asked sorrowfully.
- This planet is already too crazy, - I said, and pulled the trigger.

 

[HelioBM]

About half a dozen of the robots he had build from the trash was not enough to raise the level; it is reasonable, they were weak. Well, i still got some crumbs of "exp" for them, I hope, and what's more important - the ex-minister had a digital storage with minimal protection, in which there was a fraction of uranium, platinum and gems, which remained valuable on Pandora. Plus there were several licenses to manufacture robot components; hacked from Maliwan, it seemed. In the Maliwan-controlled territories, the death penalty for such things, and even the other corporations disapprove of piracy: eve if pirates start with their competitors, they then take their licenses, and then how can corps make money then? On Pandora, however, it was easier: here is realm of anarchy, and although there is a presence of corporations, but corps hold no dominance.
Anyway, pirated licenses should be used with caution, but they'll still come in handy.
The robots used as weapon built-in equipment like microwave radar and laser rangefinder, plus a couple of low-quality guns with traces of skag droppings. But as it is, a catch where you wouldn't expect it. Plus a sense of deep moral satisfaction from avoiding an extra dose of insanity.

Did I say anything about an extra dose of insanity? Well, in his ocean, which is Pandora, it would have been an insignificant drop.
The coordinates Moxie had given me revealed a bunker, with a massive, respectable metal door, like a prison door, with a narrow observation slit, now closed from the inside. I hit it with my fist, shook my head respectfully, then picked up a piece of metal and began pounding on door.
The result was the appearance of a pack of skags from nowhere… I was sure I'd cleared the area. After I had killed this refugees, i meen hiders-runners, I took up my pounder again... well shucking fit! I even mixed up the letters out of indignation, I'm fed up! Do they have rubber holes? How do they all fit in there?
This was the last batch, and finally the bolt on the peephole disappeared, revealing a skinny, almost pointed face with an obvious bit of madness.
- Earl? - I inquired.
- Crazy Earl - he corrected, moving his jaw in displeasure. - Get the fuck out.
The bolt closed. I sighed heavily and pounded on the door again.
To my slight surprise, the "peephole" opened again.
- What do you want? - the owner inquired unfriendly. Um... First you should have asked this, and only then sent out.
- I'm from Moxie, to deliver a package - to pick up a package - I explained.
- Ha! You can try to say it is siren riding a unicorn! - he said sarcastically, and closed the door again. I rubbed the bridge of my nose (I tried to, considering the helmet), and again resorted to the only available method of interaction: I pounded on the door again.
The slit opened.
- I can't see the unicorn - the psycho reported, and it closed again. I felt a certain heaviness, and pulled off my helmet. I wiped my face with a velvet handkerchief with the initials U.U. (I wonder where I got it...), and put the helmet back on.
Okay. As much as I'd like to blow the hell out of that door and take the bunker master by the scruff of the neck, I don't have that much explosives, and he's probably got a corridor behind the door that's well shot by a dozen turrets. So.
- Echo, get me Lilith.

- Hello, most beautiful siren I've ever known.
- You start with... - Lilith thought for a moment, and then hesitantly finished - ...the truth?
- Telling the truth is easy and pleasant - I remarked. - In any case, would you like to drink a flavored coffee, admiring the mystical light of the moon, illuminating soaring in the cloudless, bottomless skies, flocks of rakks and a car dump with skag bloodstains?
Siren stared at me for a few seconds this time.
- You know, that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me in my entire life. - She sighed heavily. - And the sad thing is, I meant it. Yeah yeah, that says a lot about my life....
The girl shook her head.
- Are there any more tangerines?

- I knew you only wanted my body - Lilith remarked.
- Well, no? - I objected. - Abilities too, and a stuffed unicorn.
- You men are all the same, - she grumbled. She smiled, though, her eyes sparkling. - All you care about in a girl is a beautiful tattoo. And a dowry.
- A girl is not only beauty, - I remarked, setting the replica of the effigy in its proper place. - But also the contribution she can make to the common cause. But seriously, I'm surprised you agreed to come. Flattered, but isn't that a little careless? Especially to drink something out of someone else's hands. As far as I know, there's a good reward for sirens.
- Well, you have a good reputation, - Lilith remarked, sipping coffee from a small cup. Moxie's managed to get milk somewhere; I should be able to find a channel myself, but so far I've had to pay a hefty markup. - Besides, there are very few poisons and tranquilizers that work on me, and I have an analyzer for them.
She tapped a finger on her ECHO; I nodded. The program for analyzing poisons in food is quite functional and useful even in the free version, and if I were Siren, I'd be generous with the full version, it's worth it. Still, reputation pays off...
I took a critical look at the installation. It's fine. At the very least, I'll have some good pictures to remember and sell later.
Sir Hammerlock, whom I also had the pleasure of meeting (and a small job installing a set of hidden cameras; no, he's not a voyeur, but a hunter and xenozoologist, though one doesn't interfere with the other), was kind enough to lend me a copy of the stuffed unicorn. Why would I want it? Please don't ask - such questions destroy the harmony of madness with irrelevant common sense.
- Please, - I said, waving my hand invitingly. Lilith nodded, tipped the cup into her mouth, and climbed onto her steed with a tangerine in her hand.
I went to the door and pounded on it; a crack opened.
Lilith let out an energy blast from her free hand.
- Siren on a unicorn - I said. - Is that okay?

 

[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.

 

[Bijes Tratincica]

The fic is refreshingly fast-paced and nails the power progression.

The prose is so-so, good for the medium, but also very unfamiliar with how grounded and descriptive it is while never entering that unique fanfiction stream of conscious that's ubiquitous these days.

Shame about the formatting. It would work in a book, but most fic readers can't tolerate raw blocks of text or hyphenated dialogue.

Dialogue is alright, if strange at times. It's understandable, but it has this quality of 'be amazed at how clever this is' right as my reading comprehension drops. I have to imagine a lot of subtext is lost in the English version.

Otherwise, my one complaint is that I wish the protagonist's goals were a bit more substantial. He definitely wants to survive and return home, but that's the basic goal of every isekai. The expectation is that inserts stumble in that goal here or there, grow to care for the people they interact with, learn to like some parts of their new life etc...

Basically, a source of inner conflict could go a long way to mask the narrative loop of 'get harder quest, kill stronger enemies, get better loot and level up'.

Altogether, this is a solid fic you've written, and even if nothing changes, I look forward to what's to come.

 

[HelioBM]

The fic is refreshingly fast-paced and nails the power progression.

The prose is so-so, good for the medium, but also very unfamiliar with how grounded and descriptive it is while never entering that unique fanfiction stream of conscious that's ubiquitous these days.

Shame about the formatting. It would work in a book, but most fic readers can't tolerate raw blocks of text or hyphenated dialogue.

Dialogue is alright, if strange at times. It's understandable, but it has this quality of 'be amazed at how clever this is' right as my reading comprehension drops. I have to imagine a lot of subtext is lost in the English version.

Otherwise, my one complaint is that I wish the protagonist's goals were a bit more substantial. He definitely wants to survive and return home, but that's the basic goal of every isekai. The expectation is that inserts stumble in that goal here or there, grow to care for the people they interact with, learn to like some parts of their new life etc...

Basically, a source of inner conflict could go a long way to mask the narrative loop of 'get harder quest, kill stronger enemies, get better loot and level up'.

Altogether, this is a solid fic you've written, and even if nothing changes, I look forward to what's to come.

Click to shrink...

At last someone left comment Thank you for it.
Yes, you right - some references lost in translation, and translation itself not best, obvious.
About "personal connections and growth" - this fic completly, in all its totality, wholesomly, NOT about it :-D It is about world of Borderlands. And about its crazyness and absurdity, which grow on MC.
Still, MC at beginning of this fic and in its ending is different... Pandora changes people...

 

[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.

 

[Alex_Hellfire]

Poor Gandalf if only he had a shotgun too would of made the movies a lot better

Thanks for the chapter

 

[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.

 

[Alex_Hellfire]

Thanks for the chapter

 

[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.

 

[Alex_Hellfire]

Thanks for the chapter

 

[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?

 

[Alex_Hellfire]

Thanks for the chapter but not gonna lie was kinda hoping to go "from the depths" mode (love that game) with the ship and maybe turn it into an airship to dominate the high seas!! With bigger turrets!!!

 

[HelioBM]

Thanks for the chapter but not gonna lie was kinda hoping to go "from the depths" mode (love that game) with the ship and maybe turn it into an airship to dominate the high seas!! With bigger turrets!!!

Click to shrink...

Every man needs his machine gun... :-D

 

[DeadlySoren]

Hey man, this is great but please run it through a grammar checker or something. Or at least use proper quotation marks for speech instead of dashes. It's so jarring and multiple people talking to each other is damn near incomprehensible.

 

[HelioBM]

Hey man, this is great but please run it through a grammar checker or something. Or at least use proper quotation marks for speech instead of dashes. It's so jarring and multiple people talking to each other is damn near incomprehensible.

Click to shrink...

It IS right writing of direct speech. Direct speech and quotation writen differently. When somebody always use quotation it is wrong, annoying, and hard to read.
About grammar - sorry for mistakes. It is translation, and it obvious far from perfect.

 

[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.

 

[Alex_Hellfire]

Hahaha that last part was great

I would suggest spacing your paragraphs and some sentences out would make it less like your reading a wall of text, then it would flow abit better from conversations and scenes

Still I enjoyed it Thanks for the chapter

 

[DeadlySoren]

It IS right writing of direct speech. Direct speech and quotation writen differently. When somebody always use quotation it is wrong, annoying, and hard to read.

Click to shrink...

Um no. I'm not sure what language you're translating from but in English, hyphens are not used to denote speech or dialogue of any kind. ' ' or even " " are acceptable. - - is not. Proper speech punctuation usage for the English language is very much part of the language.

 

[HelioBM]

Um no. I'm not sure what language you're translating from but in English, hyphens are not used to denote speech or dialogue of any kind. ' ' or even " " are acceptable. - - is not. Proper speech punctuation usage for the English language is very much part of the language.

Click to shrink...

Nope. It is modern manner of writing, probably mostly from lazy net authors who mix together quotation and direct speech, and it is wrong.

 

[HelioBM]

Oops. I am skip one part and post wrong part, sorry.
Correcting done.

 

[DeadlySoren]

Nope. It is modern manner of writing, probably mostly from lazy net authors who mix together quotation and direct speech, and it is wrong.

Click to shrink...

Mixing them together is wrong if used in the same context yes. However using hyphens is more wrong. It's not even correct punctuation for dialogue in any context.

Maybe it's correct in the language you are translating from. But not in English. The two sources below prove my point. One is Oxford unis writing style guide and there is a section on hyphens and a section on quotation marks. The other is a guide from a publishing agency.

https://www.ox.ac.uk/sites/files/oxford/media_wysiwyg/University%20of%20Oxford%20Style%20Guide.pdf#page15

How to punctuate dialogue

Fiction writers: Learn how to punctuate dialogue, when to use dialogue quote marks, dialogue tags, dialogue attributions, action tags, action beats.

www.ajcollins.com.au

Edit: could also just pick up any published book written in English and see that - - are never used for speech and ' ' are.

 

[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.