Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 9 - Gearing Up (Patreon)

The day I started taking the bio-enhancers was a watershed moment for me. It was only a year after I got my Nexus Implant, and I’d already reached the potential of my constitution. And given that Jeremiah wouldn’t let me leave the city to level, I was stuck. So, I progressed the only way I could, and I’ve never regretted it since.

Nora Lancaster

We made for a mismatched trio as we traversed the city-sized space station called the Bazaar. A tawny furred female minotaur, a stout young man with a square jaw and messy, strawberry blond hair, and me. And we got plenty of odd looks along the way, from both humans and aliens alike. I ignored them, largely because I didn’t care what they thought of me. But there was also the simple fact that I couldn’t really do anything about it, either. I felt naked without Mimic to hide behind. Whatever the case, we walked in silence until, almost thirty minutes later, we found our way to an almost deserted portion of the space station.

There were a few shops around, but most of the stacked cubes looked empty. When I asked Gala about it, she said, “They’ll be occupied once the Integration begins in a few years. For now, there’s not much reason for most merchants to hang around. There are better, more profitable places to set up shop. Of course, it might get even emptier if certain factions have their way.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Can’t say much without getting sanctioned by the system, but suffice it to say that if humanity gets enslaved, there won’t be much room for merchants like me,” she said. “Likely, one or two factions will make an alliance so they can strip the planet down to its core. Everyone else will head toward greener pastures.”

My uncle had mentioned that there were two types of aliens: those who wanted to exploit humanity for all we were worth, and another group who wanted to work with us. I didn’t need any more lessons to understand that the former would almost always outnumber the latter. It was up to humanity to tip the balance, and according to my uncle, we’d already lost the fight before it even began. The liaisons on the ground had seen to that, paving the way for the oppression of the entire planet.

For my part, I had already witnessed our future first-hand. The way those people had been treated at the Rift, forced into a cycle of reward and punishment that had rendered them into unthinking slaves – it wasn’t something I would soon forget. Nor would I ever let that happen to me or anyone else I cared about. I would rather die than submit to that sort of life.

Of course, when I asked Gala about the Castorix, she informed me that they were among the worst of the worst. However, they were in no way alone in their treatment of the natives, and they often allied themselves with more powerful forces with the same overall outlook. Still, it was somewhat comforting to hear that they were outliers; most aliens wouldn’t take things quite so far.

But in the end, slavery was slavery, and I wouldn’t be subjected to any of its many forms.

Finally, we reached our destination in one of the less occupied clumps of shops, and when Gala knocked, the door opened and we were greeted by a tiny, green man. He had huge black eyes, a multitude of antennae in the place of hair, and a body no bigger than that of a child. He wore a silvery jumpsuit and a wide variety of jewelry.

It wasn’t until he spoke that I began to reconsider my concept of genders, because he wasn’t a he at all. Rather, she was clearly female, at least by my understanding. Of course, there were plenty of people in Nova City who occupied some space in between, so it was entirely possible that she was non-binary. Or agender. Perhaps her species didn’t even have sexes. So, I decided to use gender neutral pronouns until I knew better.

“Gala, darling!” said the green alien, throwing their arms out wide. “So good to see you! Oh, and you brought friends!”

Gala knelt and gave the other alien a hug, and I couldn’t help but smile at the disparity between their sizes. After the hug, Gala stood and introduced Patrick and me to her friend, who was named Ana.

Ana wagged her finger at me, saying, “I know what you’re thinking, young lady. Ana isn’t an alien name, right? Well, you’re completely correct!” They thrust one of their fingers to the sky; I noticed that there were four on each hand. “Ana is actually short for Anaseteramanimix, and even that is a quirk of the translation construct. The point is that being called Ana helps me fit in. I’ve been studying you aliens for decades, and I do believe I’ve begun to understand you.”

“Uh…okay,” I said.

“For instance,” they said. “I am sure that you are wondering about my gender, are you not? Well you needn’t wonder for much longer, because I am a female of my species. Of course, that’s just for now. Which reminds me – do humans change sex based on their environment? I can never get a straight answer from the information circuit.”

“Uh…no,” I said. “Well, we sometimes change, but only if we want to, I guess.”

Indeed, there was a woman who worked for my uncle who’d been born male. The moment she’d saved up enough money, she’d gone to a specialized doctor and had that issue rectified. I’d never met anyone happier, so I guess the procedure was a success.

“Interesting,” Ana said. “Well, come in. Come in!”

I glanced at Gala, who wore a giant, bovine smile, and followed the little, green alien into her shop. When I did, I was blown away by its décor. Excluding Borack’s private village, the other shops I’d visited had been sleek and mostly without decoration. Ana’s, though, looked like it had belonged to the world’s most vapid teenage girl. The color pink was definitely a theme, and there were posters of various boy bands all over the wall. I didn’t know most of them, but the ones I did recognize produced just the sort of music I loathed. Nothing like Leviathan or Echo Chamber or any of the other bands I followed. They had soul, and by comparison, the boy bands were as shallow as a mud puddle.

“Do you like my posters? I’ve spent years finding just the right ones!” Ana practically squealed. “I try to watch all the shows, too. And I even met one of the boys from Ticker Tape. Not Johnny, of course – I didn’t get that lucky. But Liam was always my favorite anyway. Of course Ticker Tape is no Angel Wings, but a girl takes what she can get, if you know what I mean!”

“Uh…yeah…”

“Oh, but you’re probably up to date on Pirates of Santa Monica, aren’t you?” she went on. “With the way the Bazaar is positioned right now, I’ve missed the last three episodes, so I have no idea if Tate got with Alex! Ugh. I wish I could just go down there and –”

“Ana, we came to browse your wares,” Gala said.

Ana blinked her enormous eyes. “Oh. Right. Sorry. I am such a ditz sometimes,” she said. “But I see humans so infrequently. That’s the downside to dealing in skills. Very few can afford my work.”

“You make skills?” I asked.

“I do,” she said. “But my true passion is great music. As soon as the Integration comes, I intend to go down to the surface and follow Angel Wings as they tour. I might even finance the whole thing! You know what, you could come with me. We could be best friends, and –”

“Ana…”

The green alien blinked her huge eyes at Gala’s interruption, then shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. I get a little worked up,” she said. “But here, let’s take a look at what we have available. What kind of skill are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Can I just browse?”

She nodded, then pressed a button on the wall. Immediately, the posters disappeared, revealing rack after rack of skill crystals. They were all multifaceted crystals, identical in every way. Even the color – or the lack thereof – was the same for each and every one of them. That was outside of my expectations; when I’d absorbed my other skills, the crystals had all been different colors. So, I asked Ana about it.

“Amateurs,” she scoffed. For the first time, her chipper tone had faded. “Some {Skillsmiths} like to code their skills in various colors. It’s a waste of Mist and time, and I won’t have it. My skills are pure and uncluttered.”

I nodded. Each of the skills were identifiable by a small holographic label beneath the shards, and I was blown away by the sheer variety on display. However, I also noticed that the vast majority of them overlapped with skills and abilities I already had. For instance, there was [Fighting Instinct] which, when I asked for an explanation, Ana’s description sounded remarkably similar to Combat Focus. There were many others there as well, from [Rifles] to [Pugilism]and everything in between. Strangely, there were no skills that mimicked my [Mistwalking] abilities, further cementing its value in my mind. Already, I’d seen that most people weren’t prepared to combat it, and I hoped that would remain the case.

In addition to the more combat focused skills, there were plenty that would grant abilities in various trades. There was [Construction], [Horticulture], [Mining], and [Hunting], and that was just the tip of the iceberg. In addition, I saw [Tailoring]and [Armorsmithing]. However, given that I had no intention of splitting of attention between combat and a tradeskill, I ignored most of those.

But the moment I laid eyes on [Acrobatics], I knew I had to have it. So, I asked Ana about it, and she said, “It doesn’t grant any abilities. Nor will you see modifiers on your status. Instead, it drastically increases your proprioception. Likely. Skills can affect different people in different ways. It depends on suitability.”

That was news to me, but I didn’t want to inadvertently reveal any of my secrets. I suspected that getting nine abilities from a single skill, like I had with [Combat Utility] was a rarity. So, I changed the subject, saying, “Increased proprioception sounds really useful to me.”

“It’s a waste of a skill slot for most people,” Gala interjected. “Think about it. Say you’ve only got one or two skill slots. If you’re a warrior, are you going to take something like [Rifles] that can help you deal damage? Or are you going to go with something that lets you flip around?”

I nodded. That made sense. If I had to choose between [Acrobatics] and any of the skills with which I had started, it wouldn’t have stood a chance. But now? [Combat] was so overpowered that it opened up room for a niche skill like [Acrobatics]. For most people, it would’ve been a silly choice, but I had seven skill slots. I had room to spare. So, I chose it.

I was similarly unconflicted about the next skill. The second I laid eyes on [Demolition], I had no desire at all to continue the search. Still, I asked Ana about it, and she said, “Good eye. It’s another one that doesn’t really come with any abilities. Pure modifiers. But they’re strong. If you like explosions –”

“Who doesn’t?” Gala interrupted with a wide grin.

“There’s no substitute for a good [Demolition]skill,” Ana went on. “I was lucky to have the opportunity to blueprint that one. Most explosives skills are either combat- or non-combat-focused. This one is a nice blend.”

With that, my choices were made, and Ana stated a price. However, this time, it was Patrick who spoke up with an objection, saying, “Three million is practically robbery. There’s no way we’re paying that!”

Ana narrowed her eyes, saying, “Smuggler.”

“Better believe it,” he said. Then, to me, he added, “I have an ability that sometimes tells me when I’m being ripped off. It just triggered. This alien’s trying to cheat us.”

“Cheat you?!” screeched Ana. “I never! Three million was the starting point! That’s how bargaining works, young man.”

“We’ll do a million,” he said. “Not a credit more.”

“I spent more than that on the blueprints!” she protested. “The best I could do is two. And that’s barely enough to keep the carnagogs at bay!”

I had no idea what a carnagog was, but I still got the meaning. After that, she and Patrick continued to dicker back and forth until, at last, they settled at a million-and-a-half credits. When it was finished, I’d half expected Ana to throw us out, but instead, she got my attention and said, “You’d better keep that one around. Handsome and a good trader. Such a great combination. I don’t suppose he can sing, can he? He’s not pretty enough to make it in a top-tier band like Angel Wings, but with his strong jaw, he could –”

“Ana!” Gala interrupted.

“Right,” said the alien, a purple blush finding its way to her cheeks. “Sorry. I get a little worked up is all.” Then, she looked at Patrick, saying, “Come look me up when the Integration starts. I might have a job for you.”

“O-okay,” Patrick said, having lost the air of confidence with which he’d negotiated. I expect that an ability might have been involved, the change was so dramatic.

I thanked Ana, promising to come back and visit her when I could, and then we left. As we walked, I used the Bazaar’s interface, which had automatically hooked into my HUD, to set up a Rapid Transference of the skill crystals. It was expensive, but I hoped that my goods would be waiting for me when our consciousnesses returned to our bodies on the surface.

Eventually, we made our way to Dexter’s shop where I hoped to find a cybernetic solution to my injured hand. When we drew close, Gala left to go back to her own premises, saying that she and Dexter didn’t get along. As she walked away, she said, “Don’t forget to come back by, even if you don’t have any credits to spend. I might have something for you.”

We parted ways, and Patrick and I quickly made our way to Dexter’s cube. The alien himself was unchanged, with his four arms, burgundy skin, and three legs. However, he seemed just as down about Jeremiah’s death as Gala had been. After he offered his condolences, he led us inside and activated what he called a privacy net. Once that was in place, he asked, “What can I do for you?”

“I need a hand,” I said, raising my left arm. “I also need some kind of subdermal armor.”

“Budget?”

“Just tell me what you’ve got,” I said. “I’ll figure out the budget after that.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, you’ve got two options for defense. I have the Tak-Mura Kinetic Sheath.  It doesn’t offer much protection for blunt force, but it’s amazingly resilient against penetrative attacks.”

“And that’s subdermal armor?” I asked.

“It is,” he said. “Easy to install, too. No real surgery necessary. Just nineteen injections in the appropriate spots, and the Mist does the rest. No muss, no fuss. The other advantage is that it doesn’t affect movement at all. Not like the metallic versions that increase weight and decrease flexibility. Even the top-tier ones make their users more like walking tanks.”

That made sense to me. The people I had seen who’d used such armor weren’t exactly quick on their feet.

“What’s the other option?”

“Personalized shield,” he said, crossing one set of his arms. “Implant on your back. When you activate it, it starts draining your Mist to create an almost impenetrable shield. This one’s made by Erdogan Enterprises, so it’s better than average, but even then, we’re talking a few seconds of protection before it needs to recharge. But for those few seconds, you’re looking at complete invulnerability.”

“Downsides?” I asked. “Other than the Mist expenditure, I mean.”

“If you use it, you probably won’t be able to use any active skills or abilities afterwards,” he said. “It’s a great way to escape death, but it’s also a tradeoff. Both options are almost entirely undetectable on your world, too.”

“Oh? And the Sheath? Anything else I need to know about it?” I asked.

“It’s upgradable,” he said. “This is top-of-the-line stuff, so all you’d need to do was inject the right upgrade module, and you’ll have stronger armor. Very expensive, though, and those sorts of things aren’t available around here. It can also utilize boosters which will repair the armor.”

I nodded. My uncle had mentioned boosters to me once or twice, so I knew that they were hypos that would inject condensed Mist into the body. He’d described them as a good way to recover expended Mist, but if they were also useful for regenerating the Sheath, that just made them that much more valuable.  To date, I’d never even used one – mostly because, with my high Mist attribute, they weren’t necessary – but I’d definitely have to buy some if I chose to use the Sheath.

“Which would you recommend?” I asked.

With one set of his arms still crossed, Dexter scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Pros and cons with either choice. Invulnerability, even if it’s limited, can be a powerful card to play. But the Sheath is more well-rounded. It really just depends on what you want.”

“What about both?” I asked.

“Not possible,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a third or fourth tier cybernetics skill, they’ll draw too much power to coexist.” ‘

“Tier?” I asked. “What would you call [Cybernetic Mastery]?”

“Tier-2,” he said. “Impressive at your age. But not enough to run both of those implants. Sorry, kid. You’re going to have to choose.”

“Make it the Sheath, then,” I said. The way I saw it, if my survival came down to a couple of seconds of invulnerability, I was probably going to die anyway. It was better to go with the option that would help me in a wider variety of scenarios. Still, it was a difficult choice. “What about the hand?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” he said. “I have hands that can transform into cannons, ones that can spout mist-blades, and ones that are virtually indistinguishable from flesh and blood. You need to tell me what you want, and I’ll give you options.”

I nodded. I’d already given it some thought during our journey from the ruins of Mobile, and I’d decided that, if possible, I would go with something as close to my old hand as possible. So, I told him as much, adding, “The less detectable, the better.”

He scratched his chin, then asked, “You’re a {Mistrunner}right?”

“What? How do you know that?” I demanded, my heart beating out of my chest as panic mounted.

He held up all four hands, saying, “Whoa, whoa! Don’t get all worked up! It’s part of my array, okay? I just use it so I can tailor my suggestions to the customer. I can’t tell anybody about it, either. Not without significant sanctions. And we’re under a privacy net, so even the system can’t see what we’re doing.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but I also didn’t think it mattered that much. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, especially if he already knew my secrets. Which he obviously did. “Is that why you steered me away from the heavier armor options?” I asked.

He nodded. “It is,” he said. “Look – I’m on your side. Jeremiah was my friend. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, believe that, okay?”

I glanced at Patrick, who looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere but in the same room with the pair of us. Then, I sighed, telling Dexter, “Yes. That’s my class.”

“Rare one,” he said. “Ultra-rare, even. I’m not sure I’ve ever met an actual {Mistrunner}. Makes a guy wonder what Jeremiah did to get you that class.”

“What does it matter?” I asked. “How does that affect which hand I get?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned around, and when he did, the wall slid open to reveal a shelf full of cybernetic hands. Some were claws. Others were clearly cannons, like the one used by the giant I’d encountered only a few days after my Awakening. But Dexter went to one that looked strikingly similar to a real hand, albeit without skin. The muscles were black and striated, while the bones were a matte grey.

Dexter retrieved it, then held it up to me. “This is what’s known as the Hand of God,” he said.

“What? Why?” I asked. “It looks pretty ordinary to me.”

“Oh, that’s because it’s supposed to,” he said with a grin. “Nano-fiber muscles. Mist-infused titanium bones. It’s stronger than any organic hand, provided that the owner has less than a three-hundred Constitution attribute.”

“Okay? It’s a strong hand,” I said. “What makes it special?”

He dug his fingers into the forearm, retrieving a cord. In a lot of ways, it looked similar to the one I could extract from my undamaged wrist. However, where my cord was an unexciting black, the one in the Hand of God was laced with gold. Dexter said, “This is why. Any connection made through this jack will be almost four times as fast as anything else on the market. On top of that, the hand is entirely undetectable by anything on your planet. Anything on mine, come to that. It’s only when you get to the higher-tiered sectors that you’ll have any chance of it being detected. Even then, it would take specialized equipment.”

“Interesting,” was my response, but I was pretty much sold already.

“Self-repairing, too,” he said. “Up to a point. If you get the thing crushed somehow, you’ll need a good [Cybernetic Engineer], but for anything you’re likely to see in the next few years, it’ll hold up.”

“Well, that sounds perfect for me,” I said, already seeing the possibilities. With my modifiers, my Mistwalking ability was already very fast. With that jack, I could blaze through any defenses I might find. It almost felt like it had been tailor-made for me. “I think we have a winner.”

“I don’t know if Jeremiah told you, but he bought something that he intended to give you,” Dexter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “When you showed up today, I assumed you’d come to collect.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“One second,” he said. “Let me go fetch it.”

With that, he pressed another button, and another portion of the wall resolved itself into a door, through which he disappeared a moment later. A couple of minutes after that, he returned with a simple bracelet in one of his hands.

“This is a Kyrobe Cutter,” he said, and a shimmering hologram appeared above the bracelet. It was long and sleek, and I didn’t need him to tell me what I was looking at. I’d been studying hoverbikes ever since I was twelve years old. However, this one was clearly far superior to the models I’d seen back on Earth. “Completely collapsible inside the bracelet, so you’ll never be without a ride. D-Grade durability. E-Grade Speed, which means it’s probably faster than any Earth-made bike, and not by a little. And it has the added bonus of being a cybernetic, which means that it can be affected by some of your skills and abilities.”

“I…I don’t…I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“No thank you necessary,” Dexter responded. “Like I told you, Jeremiah was a friend, and this was a favor to him. So, no matter what else happens here, the Cutter is yours. Now, let’s get down to it. I can’t take less then eight million for the other implants.”

“Bullshit,” said Patrick, his first contribution to the conversation. And so, the dickering began, and in the end, we paid a little more than half of Dexter’s initial asking price. Once all the agreements were signed and I’d set up the Rapid Transference, we said our goodbyes. And off we went back to Gala’s shop. I couldn’t help but wonder what she had in store for us.