Shepherd's Crook: Omegaverse: Volume 2 (11 page)

The picture switched to a view within the cockpit of one of those C and C ships, Shannon in the control seat. She began to coordinate throughout the fleet, her voice calm and in control, adding enough power from ships not under attack to the ones that were, such that the attacked ships were able to maintain at least an equilibrium with the power being thrown at them from the planet below.

The Arn had switched their tactics at that point, focusing all of their firepower on a single ship at a time, which was enough to take out the shields in a single blow. If Shannon hadn’t adjusted her response as well - turning the entire fleet into a shield regeneration force for the single beleaguered ship, allowing it regenerate in between the attacks that came every thirty seconds - the fleet would have been decimated in only a few minutes. As it was, Shannon had saved the fleet, the attack, and, thus, the colony.

All of that, Duncan marveled, and she’d still had enough brain bandwidth to be able to shunt off enough power from her and Jordi’s ships to give him the power needed to fire the gatling gun. He wondered if missions like this would be generated on player run colonies - if, someday, players would flock to defend Shepherd’s Cross from alien attack.

He looked at Shannon, laughing and smiling with everyone else and he had a thought. He sent off a quick email to Phani.

After the newscast ended, Duncan opened his inventory to go through the loot he’d gathered as sole survivor on the planet. He began handing out, one to each of his friends, the heavy laser guns that the Arn had used in the ambush. The massive, power hungry, heavy hitting weapons weren’t good for much of anything except, of course, the kind of ambush Duncan and his friends had triggered.

Once he’d given the guns out to everyone else on the mission, including Shannon and Jordi, he still had five left over. He gave two more to the Bigweek guys and kept three for his group. They’d make a nice beginning to his station’s arsenal he thought, amused.

“Well,” said Clancey, “this explains how they could take us out so quickly. These things are monsters.”

“Yeah,” said Third, “it also explains how Taipan could take out the whole house by himself. They’re not much good for close quarters combat.”

“The grenades did most of the work,” laughed Duncan.

“Let’s see,” said Matt. He changed away from the news channel, bringing up a replay of the battle. They watched the view from inside the Arn attack house from just before the ambush was triggered.

Duncan saw himself and his friends, through a window on the lower floor, dashing across the open ground as the eight Arn on the ground level hefted their large weapons then simultaneously fired at the charging humans. The powerful laser fire from both floors ripped through the armor and bodies of his six friends as each was targeted by at least two of the Arn. He didn’t see any bolts that weren’t aimed true. It was devastating.

Then they watched as Gray Eagle’s fire ripped through the building. All of the Arn dropped for a moment, presumably to allow their weapons to recharge, before standing in twos and threes to begin returning fire on the gatling gun. As the heavy bolts swept through the building, the Arn in the targeted location would drop to the floor, only to rise again to fire after Gray Eagle moved his fire to another part of the building.

Then they saw the three grenades, in turn, come through each of the ground floor windows. The explosions, rapidly following each other, ripped through the room. Duncan mused that one or two grenades would probably have been enough. He wasn’t sure that any of the Arn were alive in the room after the first explosion, and the third had definitely been overkill.

“Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?” laughed Tex. Duncan smiled.

They watched the rest of the fight; laughing, cheering and congratulating each other. Duncan received a response from Phani, sent a thank you, then opened the package. Looking through it in his inventory, he smiled. This was perfect.

“Shannon,” he interrupted the small talk, “I’ve got a present for you!”

He placed a basket on the floor in front of her, a standard wicker picnic basket covered with a red and white checkered blanket. The blanket moved.

Shannon looked at Duncan, cocked her head, then bent to lift the blanket off of the basket.

Duncan’s apartment filled with Shannon’s sudden, shrill squeals of joy.

“I figured,” said Duncan, “that your heroism and genius deserved a special prize. So, there you are, Omegaverse’s very first basket of kittens!”

Chapter 18

Eric West smiled, looking at the smoking wreck of the pirate, rolling slowly, leaking gasses and randomly illuminated by the flashing light of fires sparked by exposed hot wiring, quickly extinguished as the escaping pockets of oxygen were consumed.

He’d jumped in from one light-minute away less than thirty seconds before; about ninety-seconds after the freighter-cum-pirate had launched its torpedo toward the oncoming cargo ship. For all the good it had done; the torpedo had been a miss. The cargo ship continued on its course, uninterrupted, while the pirate had begun to accelerate to jump speed. Too slowly, though. The more powerful engines of the HMS Westy, a Delta class destroyer - one of the quickest ships in the universe - had reached jump speed first, and Eric had jumped in nearly on top of the pirate.

His first shots, a spread he’d programmed in and named “Beta Strike” had fired five missiles, spread to target vital systems throughout the ship. Two had hit the engines, taking them out, while the remaining three had ripped through the remainder of the ship - the last exploding outside of, and sending shrapnel through, the bridge. It was now dead in the water, coasting and rolling through space. Helpless. Eric brought the Westy in alongside the derelict, matching speed and course.

“Number One,” he began, “send the drone to examine the cargo hold of that bastard, if you please.” He sat back in his chair, began drumming his fingers on the arm rest.

“Aye aye, sir,” said the AI XO. “We’re being hailed, sir.”

“By the pirate?” Eric answered. “Ignore it.”

He thought.

“Wait. Answer it.”

The screen opened into the bridge of the pirate. Eric read through the ship and captain information.

“Never mind,” he said, “chop the communication.”

It wasn’t Taipan, he’d seen. That was the only pirate he wanted to talk to. The only player he wanted to see, humiliated, in front of him. Otherwise, it was just another player. He wasn’t interested in speaking to them; just blowing them out of space. Even Kato and the Inner Lizard fleet held no particular interest for him. He’d killed them; they’d killed him. A fair exchange. Honorable, exciting, combat.

Taipan, however, was a worm. The worst kind of play-acting hypocrite. Pretending to be an upright, law abiding citizen-miner of the universe, while underhandedly stealing from players to enrich himself. No doubt, he thought, that fancy mining ship of his had been paid for through ill-gotten gains.

It didn’t matter, to Eric, that the shipments pirates took were insured - that was part of the transhipment costs - and that the players never really lost anything; their objects were replaced by the system. They never even knew their particular shipment had been attacked, unless they owned the cargo ship itself, in which case the very minimal ship insurance replaced the cargo. None of that mattered to Eric. What mattered was the principle. It wasn’t that Taipan stole, per se, it was that he wouldn’t own up to it, wouldn’t admit what he was.

Eric looked to the view screen. The drone was returning from searching the the pirate. As it arrived, Eric looked through the bounty. Three torpedos. He laughed.

“Just what I need,” he chortled, “weapons for piracy!”

He shook his head, ruefully.

“I wonder,” he muttered, “why this guy didn’t bother to shoot a second torpedo at the cargo ship.” It never occurred to Eric to open a line of communication to ask the other player. He’d already forgotten that the pirate existed.

He looked to the helm station. Fuel was approaching twenty-five percent. It was time to head back to Kepler to refuel, rearm and repair.

“Number One,” he said, “set course for home port, if you please.”

“Aye aye, sir. And the pirate?”

Eric looked to the rolling, smoking wreck once again.

“Him?” he mused. The ship looked like it had several days worth of repair. Destroying the ship might convince the pirate not to continue raiding. That wouldn’t be any fun. As much as he disliked the thieves, he didn’t want to completely drive them away. He wanted them to keep playing. A hunter needed his prey.

“Forget him,” Eric said. “Let him rot.”

Eric walked into the hanger at the station at Kepler 22B. After docking, and initiating the refurbishment and replenishment of the HMS Westy, he’d decided to take care of some Fleet Bigweek business he’d fallen behind on.

He wrote out a missive to the clan, describing, in detail, his recent encounter. Once again - he frowned as he wrote - he had to hunt and attack on his own. He told them that unless they began showing up for the hunts, he was going to have to revoke their membership rule; to bring in some new blood.

The group had formed a couple of decades before, in one of the earliest massively multiplayer games, and had moved through the years and subsequent games as a single unit. They had decided long before, as a group, to limit themselves to their existing membership rolls; they had very occasionally decided, en masse, to ask rare individuals they met in new online spaces to become members.

As he sent the message, he noticed, on the clan management page, that they’d all been grouped with several players, including Taipan. He began to shake. While not actively members, the grouping allowed them status akin to ‘
ally
’. That, to Eric, implied ‘
friendship’
. He began reading the description of privileges associated with Taipan. Fleet Bigweek had access to Taipan’s apartment on Kepler station.

He began walking, quickly, toward the transporter.

Eric entered Taipan’s apartment, began looking around. He was shocked when a small puppy ran up to him, wagging its tail and squeaking for attention. He bent to pet it and scratch it behind the ears. It rolled onto its -
his
, Eric saw - back and presented his belly for a rub. Eric complied, earning a yelp of happiness. He didn’t even know that there were dogs in the Omegaverse, and couldn’t imagine how expensive it was. How expensive everything in this apartment was.

It was, he had to admit to himself, beautifully appointed. He especially liked the fish-tank thing on the wall. He admired it for a few minutes, then wandered toward the wall-sized window. He scrupulously avoided even looking into the bedroom - that felt too much like snooping. He walked with his hands tucked behind his back; ensuring that if anyone, especially Taipan, happened to enter while he was here, there would be no question that Eric was only looking.

He stopped in front of the window, looking out over the breathtaking view of Kepler 22B and the space beyond. He looked down, toward the station’s docking facilities, and watched as a series of drones delivered cargo - presumably replacement missiles - to the HMS Westy. He felt a surge of pride for the ship he had worked so hard to earn. To
earn
he told himself, forcefully. He’d stolen nothing to gain it.

Unlike Taipan. Everything here, everything around him, smelled from the taint of thievery. As he thought about it, Eric realized what Taipan had been doing. He had his fancy mining ship that he was obviously using as a base of operations. He must have another, small, ship that he was using as his pirate. He was hitting shipping with the small ship, running back to the ring of that gas giant, hiding, then switching back to his main ship. He used that to tranship, via cargo ship, his booty back to Kepler.

That explained the sudden onset of cargo ships that left from the system. That explained how Taipan was able hunt and kill with immunity. That explained why Eric had not been able to find the foxy bastard.

Eric smiled, looking around at the luxury that the bastard had been able to accumulate. He looked to his inventory, to the three torpedos. The beginning of a plan began to form, and he smiled even more broadly.

He bent, pet the dog one last time, then turned and left.

Chapter 19

Charlottesville, VA USA

Duncan looked through the menu, the wine list, for the steak-house. While he liked wine, he couldn’t consider himself a connoisseur by any means. He knew which varietals he liked and which he didn’t, but that was about as far as his knowledge extended. He looked to his friends sitting around the table; Shannon, Clancey, Vince, Matt and Jamie.

He handed the list to Jamie.

“What do you suggest?”

Jamie took a quick glance down the list.

“Since you’re paying,” he laughed; a deep throated, friendly laugh that echoed bass, “I’d suggest the Stag’s Leap Cask 23, 2012.”

“But,” he continued, “since that’s $250 a bottle, I’ll keep looking.” He smiled broadly.

“That’s what we’ll have,” said Duncan, nodding to the waiter, “Two of those and a bottle of Veuve for Shannon.”

“I’ll have a Guinness,” piped Clancey, “you guys can drink the grape juice.”

“What’s the occasion?” asked Shannon. “We all get this mysterious dinner invitation, telling us that you want to treat us all, and now you’ve spent nearly six hundred dollars …”

“Six hundred and ten,” said Clancey.

“ … before you’ve even ordered your cow flesh,” finished Shannon.

“Well,” began Duncan, “I wanted to thank you all for dragging me into the Omegaverse. I have,” he coughed, “actually been able to make a lot of money in the game.”

“Yeah,” nodded Vince, “that rail-gun was insane. Twenty-five million credits.”

Duncan nodded as well, “But that was only the beginning.” He paused to gather his thoughts; as much as he’d thought through this speech - through this whole night - he still hadn’t come up with a way to tell his friends about the Shepherd’s Crook that satisfied him.