Mistrunner 4 - Chapter 17 - Geeking Out (Patreon)

The quarantine of any Initialization is supposed to give the natives a chance. With a hundred years, they can progress and grow so that they can stand up to the wave of invaders and colonizers that will come with the Integration. And yet, we all know it’s little more than a joke. Even if they had twice that time, there’s almost no chance any native population could stand up to civilizations with millennia – and sometimes eons – of development behind them.

Alistaris Kargat

Patrick did his best negotiating with Gala, and I think she even cut us some slack. However, she was still in business to make money, so there was only so far she was willing to go. And in the end, she wouldn’t accept a single credit less than a billion. So, Patrick reluctantly made the arrangements for the transfer while I eagerly looked forward to trying out my new weapons. Fortunately, Gala included quite a lot of ammunition – both full-power and practice rounds – so I wouldn’t have to worry about that anytime soon.

Just before we left, she added, “Don’t hesitate to order more ammunition. It shouldn’t be difficult to resupply after the quarantine lifts, but if you run out before that – unlikely, but possible – make sure you order via that Secure Connection. Most of this stuff is restricted, and I don’t think either one of us wants to be sanctioned by the system this close to the Integration.”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Thanks, Gala. Really. I know you’re stepping out on a limb here, and –”

She wrapped her huge arms around me, saying, “I owe it to you.”

When I pulled away, I asked, “For what?”

She shook her head. “Did I ever tell you how your uncle and I met?” she asked. When I told her that she hadn’t, she went on, “My little brother went down there. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. I was following him across the galaxy, and I didn’t catch up to him in time to keep him from going down. He’d joined a mercenary group as a Rift miner. Stupid, but he was always like that. Anyway, things inevitably went wrong, and he ended up on the wrong side of the mercenary leader. They kept him captive, only letting him out to fight for their amusement. Well, I found out where they were, and when I met your uncle, I asked him to intervene.

“And he did. Killed that whole camp and freed my brother. He’s been laying low since then, and the moment the quarantine lifts, I’m going down there, picking him up, and taking him home. But I’ll never forget what Jeremiah did for me. For my brother. So, I owe him, and that debt transfers to you.”

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“Soon as possible,” she stated. “I can’t afford to slum it in this part of the universe anymore. I’ll set up a colleague to keep you supplied with ammunition, but the shop won’t have near the quality of gear once I go. That’s another reason I sold you those weapons.”

“So, you’re some kind of big shot?” I asked.

She shrugged her massive shoulders and said, “According to some people, sure. Maybe. But I’m just a gun runner.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. Every interaction I’d had with Gala suggested that she was special, and now that she’d revealed a little more about herself, I felt even more strongly that she was one of the most powerful people I’d ever met.

After a bit more back and forth – during which nothing of import was really said – Patrick and I left Gala’s shop behind. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the last time I would ever see her. If she was heading back…to wherever it was that she called home, then that was almost a certainty.

It occurred to me then that I’d never asked her about her origin.

“What’s wrong?” asked Patrick as we made our way toward our next destination.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. I know that expression. You’re upset about something.”

“Not really upset. Just disappointed in myself,” I admitted. “I mean, I’ve known Gala for a while now. Close to ten years. I’ve visited her dozens of times.”

“You’re thinking about missing her?”

“No. Yes. But that’s not really what I was thinking about,” I admitted. Then, I asked, “Do you think I’m a selfish person, Pick?”

“What? No. Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

I shrugged. “Because in all the time I’ve known Gala, I’ve never really asked her about her life. I don’t know where she’s from. I don’t know who she really is, other than that she’s the person I buy my guns and ammo from. I didn’t even know she had a brother, much less one that lived on Earth. It just…that’s not normal, is it? Am I so self-centered that I don’t even think to ask my friends about who they are?”

He didn’t answer.

“Oh, God…”

“Look, Mira – it’s not that you’re selfish, okay?” he said, clearly trying to cushion the blow. “You’ve just got a lot going on.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it is,” he said. “But here’s the thing – you have plenty of time to change, right? Who you are now doesn’t have to be who you are next week. Or next month. Or next year. If you…”

I stopped listening to him because I’d just noticed someone who was paying far too much attention to us. The halls of the Bazaar were never empty, but almost everyone went about their business without bothering anyone else. But just behind us, I could feel someone who’d been following us ever since we’d left Gala’s shop.

It took a little focus to see past the cloud of Mist that comprised their illusory form, but when I did, I saw an unremarkable human woman. She wasn’t looking at us, but I could tell that she was paying close attention to every word that passed between Patrick and me.

And I wasn’t going to stand for that.

Normally, it was impossible to affect someone’s projection. The first and only time I’d seen anyone do it was with Gala, and she’d never turned it into an attack. More, I’d begun to suspect that she was much more powerful than she had first appeared. In any case, I was in no mood to let impossibility stand in my way, so I embraced Mist Control and turned my attention in our follower’s direction.

A second later, I ripped the cloud apart.

Doing so was so much easier than it had been with the dervishes, and the resulting pain was slight enough that I could easily ignore it. The same couldn’t be said for the woman, who let out an agonized scream before the Mist dissipated into the air.

“What the…”

“Sorry,” I said to Patrick, who’d whipped around to see the origin of the scream. By the time he did, there was nothing left. “We were being followed.”

“What just happened?”

“I dealt with the problem.”

“Do you mean you used your…you know…new thing?”

“I did.”

“Do you know what happened?” he asked. “Like, when you tore them apart, did it affect them back on Earth?”

I shrugged. “Not really concerned with it, if I’m honest,” I admitted. Of course, in the back of my mind, I had to acknowledge that there was a possibility I was mistaken. Maybe she hadn’t been eavesdropping. In that case, there was a chance that I’d just killed someone who didn’t deserve it. Or maybe I just severed her connection. There was no way for me to know, and I wasn’t going to spend too much time thinking about it.

After that, Patrick and I spent the next twenty minutes heading toward Dex’s shop. I didn’t really need any new cybernetics, but Patrick wanted to buy some parts. Moreover, we needed to find someone to sell us some heavy armaments for the Leviathan. We’d asked Gala, but she was incapable of referring us to anyone, so I hoped that Dex could point us in the right direction. Otherwise, Patrick would have to build them himself.

When we reached Dex’s premises, we found his cube-shaped shop empty. After asking his neighbors as to his whereabouts, we discovered that Dex had been exiled for reasons unknown. A quick call back to Gala told me that his exile was related to his relationship with me. The Gamori Confederation had pulled some strings and had him kicked out of the Bazaar. As it turned out, everyone I knew had been threatened, but Dex had been the only one without enough backing to resist.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s fine,” Gala answered. “I made sure of it.”

“T-thanks,” I said, a little dumbfounded about how to further respond. “I…I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Consequences, Mirabelle,” she said. “For every action, there is a reaction. This was theirs. You’re fighting a war. There are going to be casualties.”

I sighed. I had always understood the reality of the struggle, and yet, it never ceased to surprise me when someone else paid the price for my actions.

“Do you know anywhere else we can get parts? Patrick needs materials. As high-quality as we can get,” I said.

“There’s a dealer I know,” Gala said over the Secure Connection. “Sending you the location. But be warned – Earthlings don’t usually go there.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone where I’m not wanted.”

She sent the file, which I slotted into my HUD’s map. So, after thanking Gala, we set off. As we did, I kept my eyes, ears, and more importantly, my {Mist Warden} senses trained on my surroundings. Fortunately, we didn’t pick up any more observers, but I maintained my vigilance as we traversed the space station.

At first, there were plenty of other pedestrians, but as we went, the crowd thinned until, at last, we were almost entirely alone as we walked through the wide corridors. More than once, we passed clumps of those stacked, cube-shaped shops and domiciles, but no one tried to obstruct our passage. That was fortunate, because I’d already proven that Mist Control was more than capable of affecting people on the space station, and I was fairly positive that it would be just as effective against the aliens who lived there and the projections people sent from the surface.

The nature of our surroundings changed as well, and the corridors grew more worn with every step. In addition, we left the huge chambers filled with stacked cubes behind. Instead, each new chamber was just a huge, open space. Sometimes, they were filled with crates and alien workers – some of whom drove exo-suits to assist with the execution of their jobs – but other chambers were entirely empty.

“This isn’t creepy at all,” I muttered to myself as I looked around the latest iteration of the latter. “What do you think this is for?”

Patrick answered, “I have no idea. Storage, maybe? Or it could be for use when the quarantine drops. Everyone says the Bazaar is supposed to get a lot busier then.”

That was true, and it was easy to imagine that the workforce required to run the space station would need to be much larger to accommodate the increased traffic. Still, even knowing that didn’t mitigate the unease I felt at being in such a cavernous and empty room. So, Patrick and I didn’t tarry, instead quickening our pace until we finally reached our destination.

To the untrained eye, it looked like a junkyard. Just piles of disparate pieces of robotics, cybernetics, and every other bit of trash one could imagine. However, we’d only taken one step before Patrick’s eyes alighted on something sticking out of the closest pile. He rushed to it, then went to yank it free. He came away disappointed though, because in his projected form, he couldn’t touch anything.

“Ye got a good eye, kid,” came a rumbling voice.

I jerked my gaze in the voice’s direction, and I was surprised to see what I first thought was a human. Yet, when I took a closer look, I saw a few subtle differences.

Like the fact that he was at least twice as tall as any human being I’d ever met. Or that he had only one eye located in the center of his forehead. Otherwise, he wore a pair of what looked like denim overalls with no shirt beneath them. In fact, he wasn’t wearing shoes, either, which revealed a pair of massive feet that matched his other proportions.

“How much?” asked Patrick without even looking back at the cyclops. Instead, he was bent down, his face only a few inches from the…item…he was looking at. To me, it just looked like a piece of trash, but he certainly seemed excited by it.

“For that’n? Four thousand. Not a credit less, or I won’t b’able ta feed my chitrens.”

“Chitrens?” I mouthed.

“Deal,” said Patrick without even haggling, which definitely wasn’t like him.

The cyclops grinned widely. “Know ye had a good look ‘boutcha,” he rumbled. “C’mon, den. Les getcha all settled.”

That was when Patrick finally looked up, though he was clearly hesitant to let the item out of his sight. Still, he blanched a bit at the size of the cyclops. He didn’t let that dissuade him, though. Instead, he said, “Gala sent me here. She said you had a lot of parts available, and if what I just saw is any indication, she was right.”

I didn’t miss the cyclops’ change of expression. He paled as he asked, “Gala sentcha? Did I say four thousand? Meant two, I did. Musta misverbalized it.”

Patrick straightened to his full height and said, “Oh? Awesome. Let me send you a list of what I need, huh? You can tell me what you have, then we can come to an arrangement for everything.”

“Uh…any frienda Gala’s is a frienda mine. Stand-up bovine, she is. Never met a better one, no I didn’t.”

After that, Patrick transferred his list to the cyclops, whose name turned out to Bilibog, before they set about exploring the pile of junk. I had little interest in that kind of thing, so I left them to it. In the meantime, I started to devise a training program that would let me maximize my skills as quickly as possible. I had no idea what grade my new skills were, but if [Acrobatics] and [Demolition] were any indication, it wouldn’t take much concerted effort to train them to their maximum tier.

Especially if I really focused on their progression.

I wanted to advance [Navigation] and [Multi-Mind], but I was more worried about the skills I intended to merge with Mist Control. Because I’d gotten a glimpse of how powerful it could be, and I wanted more.

After all, if it turned out to be as potent as I thought it was going to be, then it could potentially make the difference necessary to see Earth through the coming invasion. If not…

Well, I didn’t want to think about that.

As I waited on Patrick to complete his shopping spree, I decided to consult Alistaris about my training as well. He came from a race that had lived with the system for eons, so it stood to reason that he might know how to get the most out of my time. If I had a way to contact Freddy, I would have done that, too. As a Templar, he probably knew Mist as well as anyone, so I felt that it was probably a good assumption that he could help me with Mist Control.

Nearly two hours passed while I made and discarded plans until, at last, Patrick and Bilibog returned. The cyclops looked cautiously content, while Patrick seemed incredibly excited.

“All done?” I asked.

“Got more than I expected,” Patrick answered. “A lot more. I think I have enough to do some really cool stuff with the armor.”

“Awesome.” I said. Then, I turned my attention to Bilibog and said, “I don’t think I need to caution you against running your mouth, do I?”

He shook his head, which shook his jowls unpleasantly. “No, ma’am. Don’t have to worry ‘bout me none.”

“Tell me something,” I said. “Why are you so afraid of Gala?”

“Uh…”

“You can tell us, Bilibog. We’re her friends.”

He retrieved a cloth from one of his pockets and mopped his forehead. Finally, he leaned close. “Ye didn’t hear this from me, ye hear?” he rumbled in the loudest whisper I’d ever heard.

“Sure.”

“Well, you know she’s Erdikar, right? Used te be, at least. One of them dreadnoughts. I never seen her fight, but I heard stories, I did. Don’t wanna get on her bad side, ye see.”

“Oh,” I said. That certainly made sense. Had she sold me her old weapon, then? That meant the Stinger was even more valuable than I’d first anticipated. It made me appreciate it more than ever, and I couldn’t wait to put it to use. “Thanks, I guess.”

With that, Patrick and I left the confused cyclops behind. As we headed back to the exit, I couldn’t help but wonder about Gala’s past. Had she left the dreadnoughts before her brother had headed to Earth? Or after? More importantly, how strong was she if even someone the size of Bilibog feared her?

None of those questions had answers – at least not that I was going to get. Still, they occupied my mind until we finally reached the exit. As we laid our hands on the exit pillar, I pushed those extraneous thoughts out of my mind. I needed to put myself in the right frame of mind, because now that I had the proper equipment, I had a war to prepare for.