Mistrunner - Chapter 7 - Equipment Equals Survival

I’ve always thought of myself as a hard man. I was never entirely pitiless, but I could kill without much remorse. However, the moment I saw the myriad ways people had been taken advantage of, my heart wept. I’ve been fighting it ever since.

Jeremiah Braddock

For a second, I couldn’t pull my eyes from the floor, which was made of some sort of dull grey metal, though instead of a slick surface, it was subtly textured. Shaking my head, I blinked a few times as the nausea abated. Then, I finally raised my eyes. And what I saw was enough to elicit a gasp of surprise.

There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people around, and I could tell by some of the fashion choices that most of them had not originated in Nova City. A good number of them wore crisp suits with curiously high collars, and most had visible cybernetics. It made me feel self-conscious about my own clothing, let alone my uncle’s long coat and apparent lack of mechanical parts.

“W-what…”

“This is the Bazaar,” my uncle said, standing over me. I reached out to grab his hand, hoping to use him for leverage. However, when I did, my hand passed through his with a barely visible flicker of distortion. “Like I was trying to say, we’re not really here. Your body is a projection.”

“How?” I asked, looking around as I climbed to my feet. The word “room” seemed inadequate to describe the space. It was bigger than the entire Dome, and what’s more, I could tell that it was only a smaller part of the whole. That’s when I noticed the windows. Even as my uncle started to answer my question, I rushed away and pressed myself against the glass surface.

Outside was something I’d never expected to see. Earth loomed in front of me, blue and white with splotches of greens and browns. I gaped, unsure what to think.

“It’s a satellite,” I muttered.

My uncle had joined me, and with a smile I could hear in his voice, he said, “It is. A space station, actually. When I was much younger, this space was filled with lesser satellites. They governed communication, navigation, and everything else. But after the Initialization, they all went dead. The Bazaar replaced them. It’s a space station the size of a city, and it’s as close as the aliens are supposed to get to Earth, at least until the Integration in ten years.”

“There are aliens here?” I asked, finally tearing my eyes from the view of Earth. I looked around, seeing nothing but strangely dressed humans. “Where?”

He laughed. “This is just an entry point,” Jeremiah stated. “There are fourteen of them. The rest of the station is structured like a city, with residential pods for the aliens as well as more public spaces where we can conduct our business. Most people aren’t aware, but there are also plenty of restricted areas where humans aren’t allowed.”

“What’s in those areas?” I couldn’t help but ask, though I didn’t really expect an answer.

“No one knows,” Jeremiah answered. “Weapons, maybe. Soldiers. Whatever they plan to send down there when the hundred years of Initialization are up. I don’t think you’re stupid enough to think it’s anything good, though.”

I glanced back through the window. Suddenly, the situation didn’t seem so awe-inspiring. In fact, as reality set in, I felt a deep sense of dread. After all, if these aliens had the technology to build such a space station, then what chance did humanity have? How did you fight something like that?

“That look,” my uncle said. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” was his response. “We’re a lot alike, you and me, and my first time up here, I felt the same thing.”

“And how did you get past it?” I asked.

“At first? Drinking,” he stated. “Lots and lots of drinking. Then, a bunch of killing. Finally, acceptance. You’re the result of that last part. I can’t save humanity. Nobody can. Everyone down there is doomed. But I could save you. I can give you a chance to not only survive what’s coming, but to forge a path to something better.”

“Why, though? I’ve seen what people can do,” I said. “If we all worked together, we could –”

“Look around you,” he said, sweeping his arm around.  “And tell me what you see.”

I followed his gesture, and for a couple of minutes, I truly studied the crowd. At first, I didn’t see much past my first impressions, but after a few moments, I started to see patterns. Each time one of the people in suits appeared, they’d head off toward one of the exits. Usually, along the way, they were joined by more of their kind.

“Who are the people in suits?” I asked.

“Corporate liaisons,” he answered.

“Liaisons to who?”

“That’s the answer,” Jeremiah said. “The aliens, they couldn’t legally set up shop down there.” At the last, he pointed to Earth. “So, they made connections with powerful people. Most were rich before the Initialization, so they already had some infrastructure in place. But using the Mist, the alien technology, and good, old-fashioned greed, they were able to create safe places for humanity. Nova City is one of those places.”

“There was a price, wasn’t there?”

“Of course,” my uncle answered. “There’s always a price, Mirabelle. Nothing comes for free. It was true in the old world, and it’s even more true here. The aliens, they don’t care about conquest. All they want is an increase in profits. So, as long as that’s facilitated by their liaisons, they’re content to just let things go the way they’re going. The liaisons get their little slice of power, and the aliens get to exploit Earth and humanity for all they’re worth.”

He sighed, saying, “On one hand, we probably couldn’t have survived without them. Or not nearly as many, at least.  They’re responsible for much of the technology that allows us to feed so many people. The great vertical farms that grow all the soy and corn, the drones we use to fish, and the factories that have put technology at every person’s beck and call. But to do that, they’ve made slaves of humanity.”

“What happens in ten years, though?” I asked. I didn’t like the idea of a bunch of aliens exploiting humanity, but there didn’t seem like there was much I could do about it. My uncle had hinted that he’d spent years – maybe even decades – fighting against them, and he’d made no real headway. But as bad as that situation was, it wasn’t the end of the world. So, there had to be something else on tap.

“Clever girl,” he said. “But you’re not ready to know that yet. It would take hours to explain intergalactic politics, but suffice it to say that there are degrees of exploitation. On one side, there are the relatively benign aliens who run the Bazaar. So long as they get their resources, they’re not going to hurt anyone more than absolutely necessary.”

“And the other side?”

“Aliens who want to come in, strip-mine Earth and take everything in one fell swoop,” he said. “They won’t care how many people are killed. They won’t care if they leave an unlivable rock behind when they’re gone. They’ll come like locusts, consuming everything, then move on to the next planet when they’re finished.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s a locust?” I asked.

He gave a grim chuckle. “All that, and you latch onto a bug,” he said. “Locusts are insects that used to come in great swarms and ruin crops. I don’t think they exist anymore. Lots of wildlife ended up like that. But you’ll see.”

I tired to ask more questions, but he cut me off, saying, “We only have a short time here. Let’s go.”

With that, he led me through the Entry Point, which was a strange experience. Even when I should’ve bumped into people, I just phased right through them. Most hardly seemed to notice, but some – usually ones wearing those strange, high-collared suits – glared at me when I got too close. One look at Jeremiah cut off any complaints, though. I wasn’t sure whether they knew him or if they simply had enough experience to recognize a killer in their midst, but it was a bit funny to see indignation and anger turn to abject fear and a desire to be just about anywhere else. And I confess that, once I realized what was happening, I may have let myself drift into more than a few of them on purpose.

After all, Jeremiah’s little speech had labeled them as enemies, and I was inclined to agree. At best, they were rich snobs like I’d seen in the more prosperous districts of Nova City. At worst, they were the sorts of people who would sell out their entire race for a little more power. Having a little fun at their expense was the least I could do.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, we made our way to the Bazaar proper. And it was a bit underwhelming, at first. It was a simple, though intimidatingly large, hall with hundreds of room-sized boxes, stacked one atop the other, and with lifts running between levels. The place was a far cry from what I’d expected, which was a space-age version of one of the markets back home, complete with fantastical aliens hawking their wares in colorful, open air booths.

Jeremiah strode through the place with confidence, and I struggled to keep up – which, given that I didn’t actually have a body, was a bit concerning; shouldn’t I be capable of any speed I could imagine? At least I didn’t experience fatigue. In any case, it took us almost an hour of walking before we found our destination on the seventeenth level of a dense clump of cube-like rooms. On the door in front of us was an alien symbol, the likes of which I’d never seen.

My uncle banged on the door, and a second later, it slid open. That’s when I blurted out the question that had been on my mind since the very beginning of our trek through the space station.

“Why can we touch the station itself? I thought we weren’t really here,” I said.

A rumbling laugh came from inside the shop, and I looked up to see the strangest creature I’d ever beheld. He mostly looked human, though his torso was a little too long, and his eyes were way too big. But what really set him apart was the fact that he had four arms. And three legs. Oh, and his skin tone was a deep burgundy. He wore a series of criss-crossed, leather-looking straps across his chest and a pair of matching pants. His feet were bare. Like I said – mostly human-looking.

“She got all this way before asking?” the alien asked, his mouth moving completely independently of his actual words. “Next, you’re going to tell me that you didn’t inform her about the translation constructs.”

Jeremiah massaged the back of his neck, saying, “We were in a hurry.”

Another booming laugh, and then the alien focused on me. “You are here,” he said. “You’re just comprised of Mist, which is contained by the station via a series of –”

“She doesn’t need the details, Dexter,” Jeremiah said. “Like I told you, we’re in a hurry.”

The alien looked disappointed, though given his strange appearance, I couldn’t be sure. He recovered quickly, though, saying, “I suppose that’s how it has to be, then. I look forward to a day when you can come up here in person, old friend.”

“Ten more years,” Jeremiah said. “Which brings me to my niece. She’s going to need an optical implant and an arsenal node.”

“Budget?” the alien asked.

“Top of the line.”

“Ho,ho – big spender over here!” Dexter crowed, tilting his head back. He bent down to look me in the eyes, which was a distinctly unnerving experience.

“Uh…ever hear of personal space?” I asked, flinching away.

“Not in my line of work,” Dexter stated. “Too bad I can’t handle the installation. I hate leaving that up to you barbarians. Nothing for it, though.”

“Just show me what you’ve got, Dex,” Jeremiah said, rolling his hand.

Dexter went to the nearby wall, punching a series of buttons I hadn’t originally seen. I wasn’t even sure they’d been there before; aside from a chair and a counter, the shop had been entirely bare, as far as I could tell. That changed a second later when the walls came alive, shimmering as they revealed a series of machines. Or cybernetics. They looked strange when they weren’t attached to someone, but I could recognize most of them easily enough.

He grabbed something off a nearby shelf and held it up. To me, it looked almost like a rubber sleeve, though I could see the intricate wires and circuits woven throughout the material.

“Mark Four Arsenal Implant,” Dexter said. “Hurk Munitions.”

“Nothing from Adavant?” asked Jeremiah asked.

“Not unless you’ve got an S-Grade clearance,” Dexter stated. “You didn’t become an admiral in the Adavant Alliance sometime within the last few weeks, did you? It feels like I would have heard about my good friend getting such an illustrious posting. Especially since Earth is quarantined right now.”

Then, Jeremiah uttered the words that would make the difference in any negotiation. “Money is no object, Dex,” he said. “I’ll pay whatever you want. I know you have one. That’s why I came here.”

Dexter coughed. “No object, you say?” he said, recovering quickly. “I don’t think you understand how risky moving something like an Adavant Arsenal Implant is in this climate.”

“You heard what I said,” Jeremiah stated. “You always ride me because I won’t upgrade my implants. I haven’t gotten anything for myself in almost thirty years. Do you know why?”

“Because you’re cheap?”

“Because I’ve been saving,” Jeremiah answered. “For this very moment. When I say I’m sparing no expense, I mean it. I want the best of everything you have.”

“Seven million credits,” Dexter said. “And I can’t take a single –”

“Done,” Jeremiah said.

“What?” Dexter said, clearly having expected Jeremiah to haggle. For my part, I just stood there, virtual mouth agape. Seven million credits. That was enough to set us up in King’s Row, and with plenty left over. And it had only bought one implant.

“Better be some implant,” I muttered.

“It is!” Dexter insisted, recovering himself. “It’s the best spatial storage implant available! Four quick-access weapon slots. Three upgradable storage nodes, each of which will contain up to three cubic meters of whatever it is you want to carry. It requires an access point to store or retrieve anything with significant mass, but that’s true of any storage node. Outside of the weapon slots, of course.”

“Like I said – done,” Jeremiah stated. “Now, what do you have for optics? Remember – I’m not interested in the cheap stuff you usually sell. Only the best. You know what I’m looking for. Combat HUD. Navigation. Interface assistance. Full-body integration. Everything a lone Operator might need.”

“I don’t have anything like that,” Dexter admitted.

Jeremiah didn’t blink before saying, “I suppose we’re done here, then. I’ll put the credits in escrow before I leave, and I expect the package to arrive before the end of the day.”

He turned to leave, but the big, four-armed alien quickly rushed through the door to stand in front of him. “Wait!” he said, holding up all four hands. I was surprised to note that there were only four fingers on each of them. “Wait just a second. I get it, okay? I have a friend who deals in that kind of thing. Just come back inside, and we’ll talk it out.”

Jeremiah sighed. “Fine,” he said, turning back around. Once everyone was back inside, the door slid shut once again. “What are you trying to sell me?”

“Kelek Infiltrator Optical Implant.”

“What? A KOI implant?” asked Jeremiah. “Where did you get one? Those aren’t…I mean, that’s not publicly available technology.”

Dexter grinned, and I saw that his teeth were jagged and sharp. I couldn’t help but wonder how he managed not to cut his lips every time he spoke. “Like I said, I have a friend,” he stated. “Owes me a favor. Let’s just say he found it, okay?”

“In my world, they say that it fell off the back of a truck,” Jeremiah said.

Dexter looked confused for a moment, but then he burst out laugh. “The translation construct tripped up a bit there,” he said. “But I get it now.” He shook his head. “Humans.”

“How much, Dex?” Jeremiah asked.

“Seventeen million,” Dexter said without any hesitation.

“That’s a lot,” Jeremiah responded. “More than any optical implant should cost, especially if it’s hot.”

“That’s what it costs,” Dexter said, but this time, there was a note of seriousness in his tone. I got the feeling that even if my uncle hadn’t already shown his cards, there wouldn’t have been any negotiation.

“Fine. Twenty-Four total. Twenty-Six if you can get everything to Earth’s surface before the end of the day,” Jeremiah said.

“I can.”

“Then consider it a tip,” my uncle added.

“Anything else I can do for you? Skeletal reinforcement? Claws? I have this spinal implant that can increase your speed and perception to such a degree that everyone else will look like they’re moving in water,” Dexter went on. “I also have cloaking implants, subdermal armor, and –”

“She’s only got room for two right now, Dex,” Jeremiah said. “But once she levels up a bit, maybe we’ll be back. Assuming she survives training.”

“Here’s hoping for your survival then, young miss,” Dexter said, looking me in the eyes again. “As unlikely as it probably is.”

My uncle and Dexter exchanged only a few more words before we took our leave. Once we were a little away from the shop, I asked the question I’d held onto since Jeremiah had bought the arsenal implant. “How rich are you?” I asked.

“For decades after the Initialization, I went from one alien installation to the next, killing everyone and stealing anything that wasn’t bolted down,” he said. “I sold anything I didn’t need, but I didn’t spend any of the money. Not until Nova City was built, and I settled in. Even then, it was an investment. I know you’ve never taken much interest in what we do, but all those guns and Operators aren’t just for show. Running the Garden is a business. And business has been good.”

“Why didn’t we move, then? I could have gone to one of those fancy schools in King’s Row,” I said. “Gotten a job in one of those labs where they –”

“And who do you think owns those labs?” Jeremiah asked. “Everything that happens there is tied to the aliens, and not ones like Dex who just wants to run his shop. When the Integration comes, those people are going to find out that they’re no better than slaves. Even the liaisons. I don’t want that for you, which is why we’re here.”

“I…I don’t want that either,” I lied. It had always seemed like such a cushy life, living in King’s Row or Lakeview and working in Uptown, but ultimately, it was one I’d never even considered to be attainable. Now that I knew the truth, I was glad that that kind of security had never been dangled in front of me. It would have been difficult, leaving something like that behind, even when I knew what the end result would be. For a lot of people, comfortable slavery, especially when all you’ve ever known was luxury, was preferable to a life of freedom and hardship. Or that was what they wanted you to think, at least. For my part? I saw it for the trap it was.

Of course, I didn’t really have that much room to talk about comfortable lifestyles. Compared to most people in the Garden, I was a veritable princess. I even lived in a tower. But that was going to change, according to my uncle, and if I was honest with myself, I had to admit that I couldn’t wait for my grand adventure.

As we made our way through one block of cubical shops after another, my thoughts wandered. My uncle, for his part, kept his silence, clearly lost in thought. I didn’t mind. Jeremiah had never been a big talker, and some of my fondest memories were when we’d simply let the silence stretch between us.

Finally, we reached our second destination, though aside from a series of glyphs on various plaques throughout the station, I couldn’t tell one place from another. Luckily, Jeremiah could. We entered the next shop to find a burly minotaur, complete with sweeping horns and a bovine face. She – and judging by the stocky and muscular, but undeniably feminine body, she was definitely female – had piercings in her eyebrows, ears, septum, and lip. But I only had eyes for the giant pistol on her hip. It looked like a revolver, if said revolver was made to fire actual rockets.

A high-pitched chuckle filled the room before the minotaur said, “Your little girl has good taste. I could sell you a hand-cannon if you want. She’s a bit scrawny to handle a weapon like that, but she might grow into it.”

“Pass,” Jeremiah said before I could voice my obvious desire to get my hands on just such a weapon. “How you doin’ Gala?”

The minotaur woman shrugged her broad shoulders – she was showing them off by wearing a sleeveless vest that reminded me of Nora, my uncle’s chief enforcer. “You know how it is,” she said. “Everybody wants to kill everybody else, so that’s good for business.”

“Any incidents?”

“The usual. The Chimera are acting up again,” she said. “But that’s normal. They haven’t eaten a world in a few years, so they’re getting antsy. The Templars are keeping them in check, though.”

The Templars. That was a designation I knew a little about. On Earth, Templars were mysterious warrior monks who habitually dressed all in white. They weren’t common, but there was a temple in Uptown. I’d seen it a couple of times when I’d ventured into that district for one reason or another, but I’d never gotten close. As to the Templars themselves, I’d glimpsed one or two in my life, but I’d never been brave enough to get any closer than a couple dozen yards. I wasn’t sure if it was just superstition or if it was based in reality, but everyone said the Templars were different, that they wielded unnatural powers.

“Are these the same Templars we have on Earth?” I asked, my voice sounding small even in my own ears.

“Same organization,” Jeremiah said. “Peacekeepers of the universe.”

“Meddlers,” Gala spat. “Always sticking their snouts where they don’t belong.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “Can’t really argue with that,” he said. “Nothing any of us can do about it, though.”

“You can say that again,” the minotaur woman said. “So – what can I do for you, Jeremiah? Don’t tell me you lost her.”

“Her?” I asked, giving my uncle the side eye.

“She’s fine,” he said. “Rebecca is safe and sound back on Earth.”

Gala narrowed her giant, bovine eyes. “Better stay that way, too,” she said. “I hate wasting good equipment on unreliable people.”

“I’m so confused,” I admitted. I thought I knew almost everything there was to know about my uncle, and I’d never even heard of anyone named Rebecca. “Who is Rebecca?”

“Rebecca is his rifle,” Gala explained. “Silly name. Guns are clearly male. You can tell by the pseudo-phallic shape.”

“Says the woman who named her sidearm after her first boyfriend,” Jeramiah countered, rolling his eyes.

Gala patted the hand-cannon at her side, saying, “Don’t listen to him, Ferdinand. You’re a beautiful boy with a perfect name.”

“Uh…”

“Right,” Jeremiah said, noticing my discomfort and confusion. I didn’t think it was too strange that they named their guns. I mean, it was weird. No doubts there. But I was more confused by the fact that Gala’s hand-cannon had a name I recognized from Earth. Jeremiah didn’t seem to find it as interesting as I did, though, because he immediately said, “We’re looking to remedy Mirabelle’s lack of firepower, Gala. I want four guns. All good-quality, but appropriate for beginner- to intermediate-use. She’s got the [Firearms] skill, but it’s never been leveled.”

“She knows how to shoot, though?” asked Gala.

“She does,” Jeremiah said. Indeed, our megabuilding had a built-in firing range, and I’d been getting shooting lessons for years. “No practical experience, though.”

“Skill should go up quickly, then,” Gala said. “I recommend E-Grade. It’ll be a little much for her in the beginning, but she’ll grow into it pretty quickly. Won’t outgrow it for a while, either.”

“I agree,” Jeremiah said. “I need a rifle, a pistol, and a scattergun.”

“Plasma, kinetic, or elemental?” Gala asked, leaning forward with her hands on the counter. The cubic shop was different from Dexter’s in that its wares were clearly displayed. Some were even beneath the prominent counter separating Gala from her only two customers. I noted that the guns – mostly variations of pistols – were protected not by glass, but rather by an energy field.

“Kinetic for the rifle, plasma for the pistol, and whatever’s most powerful for the scattergun,” Jeremiah answered.

Gala nodded approvingly. “You’re small and scrawny, but you do know your weapons,” she said. “That’s why I like you.”

“I try,” said Jeremiah, flashing a smile he rarely used, especially with strangers.

Gala went to one of the walls, selecting a rifle with a long barrel. It was constructed like any other assault rifle I’d ever seen – all sharp angles, and with a long barrel. Gala set it on the counter, saying, “Keugen Kinetic Rifle, E-Grade. Or Kicker, which is what most people call it.”

“Adjustable?”

“Of course,” Gala said, picking the weapon up. She flicked a switch on the side, and the barrel extended an extra foot. A scope also folded out of the top. “Two modes. Sniper and assault. I’ve seen one of these boys take out a Kevorqian Rhaknar at thirty kilometers in sniper mode. One shot. Blew one of the thing’s heads clean off. Assault mode packs less of a punch, but it makes up for it in rate of fire and maneuverability. Ninety round magazine, upgradable to one-twenty if you’ve got the skill to handle it.”

“Good,” said Jeremiah appreciatively. “Perfect starter weapon.”

“Most people on your backwards planet would consider this a peak weapon suitable only for seasoned warriors,” Gala stated.

“We’re not most people,” Jeremiah said.

“Clearly,” was Gala’s response. Then, she went to another wall and retrieved a sleek pistol. Where the rifle had been all right angles, the pistol was shiny and curvy in all the wrong ways. “This is the Fortuin Pulse Pistol. I know it looks dainty, but –”

“No,” I said before my brain could catch up to my mouth.

“Mirabelle.”

“I don’t like it,” I said, doubling down. It’s too…I don’t know…”

“She wants something big and beefy,” Gala said. “Should’ve known. I wouldn’t want that nickel-plated sissy pistol either.”

She went back to the wall and stood there for a few moments, her hands on her hips as she perused her wares. Finally, she said, “Aha! I knew I’d find the perfect one!”

Gala reached out and grabbed a weapon that looked remarkably similar to the hand-cannon at her hip. It was much smaller, but it had the same revolver design. She slapped it on the counter, saying, “What do you think of this one, little girl? He looks like a Ferdinand Jr., doesn’t he?”

“Uh…what’s it do?”

“Whatever you need him to do, sweetheart,” Gala said. Then, she picked the weapon back up, and somehow removed the cannister. Holding it up, she said, “Versatility. You can use any kind of round you want. Explosive. Kinetic. Stun. Plasma. You name it, this weapon can do it. Not as well as weapon dedicated to that type of damage, but it makes up for it in versatility. That’s why I love Ferdinand so much. He never lets me down.”

Jeremiah, who’d been silent for a while, said, “You think it’s the best tool for the job? I was thinking full plasma for the added punch. She’s not going to focus on pistols.”

“All the more reason for it to be versatile,” Gala said. “She’s not relying on it for primary damage, right? It’s situational. Better to have a multi-tool, then. I’m assuming she’s got an Arsenal Implant?"

Jeremiah nodded. “A good one, too.”

“Then she’s going to be able to carry plenty of ammo,” Gala said. “That means she’ll have a round for every occasion. A girl couldn’t ask for a better accessory.”

“Fine,” Jeremiah said. “Not what I had planned, but it’ll do. Throw in something more mundane so she can use it to skill up, yeah? And I’ll leave it to you to choose the ammo. It’s never been my thing, so I’d probably just be choosing at random.”

Gala nodded. “Alright, so we still need a scattergun,” she said. “We’re looking for maximum stopping power here, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. If anything gets close, she needs to be able to put it down in a hurry.”

“No explosions?” Gala asked.

Jeremiah shook his head. “Close range,” he reiterated.

“Elemental okay?” she asked. Jeremiah nodded. Gala immediately went to the back wall and chose a curious looking gun. It was short and stubby, but with a barrel-like cannister attached to the bottom. She turned back and held it out for us to inspect. She said, “Macor Shock Gun. It was developed for riot suppression, but it was a little too lethal for their tastes. Turns out a billion volts of electricity is usually fatal unless someone’s Tier-3 or better. And even if it doesn’t kill, it interferes with the Mist and makes muscles spasm. You’d have to be a fully-trained Tier 4 or 5 to come out of it completely unscathed. Of course, for a novice, it won’t be nearly so effective, but it’s the kind of weapon that can grow with you.”

“Perfect,” Jeremiah said, nodding in approval.

“Anything else?”

“Blades,” he said. “Nano-edged. One long. Four short. Need an axe, too.”

“No spears?”

Jeremiah shook his head. “No,” he said.

“I’ve got just the right set-up,” Gala stated. “It wouldn’t be up to snuff for a Quasani Assassin, but for what I think you’re looking for, the set should work for her. It’s not cheap, though.”

“It’s fine.”

“If you say so,” Gala said. “Now – you said you needed four guns. Unless I miss my guess, you want her to follow in your footsteps?”

“I do.”

“You think she can handle it?” Gala asked.

“She can,” was Jeremiah’s response.  His tone brooked no disagreement.

“If you say so,” Gala said. “Give me a second. I know what she needs.”

Then, she turned to the back wall and, suddenly, a door appeared. It slid open, and she stepped through it. I couldn’t see what was on the other side; instead, it was just a pervasive field of white light. A moment later, Gala returned holding a large and unadorned black case. She set it on the counter and, after doing something I couldn’t see, it flipped open. She wasted no time in pulling a weapon from inside.

I gasped, because it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Pulsar Class Kinetic Sniper, D-Grade,” Jeremiah said. “Just like Rebecca.”

“Rebecca’s brother, maybe,” Gala said with a smirk. “This strapping young man will punch a hole in a class-two bot from seven miles away. Further, if you’re on a big enough planet where the curvature doesn’t mess with you too much. And that’s with only enough skill to handle it, too.” She looked at me and continued, “For someone like your uncle? You can double that.”

“Uh…”

“Of course, you can’t use it now,” Gala said. “You could pull that trigger a thousand times, and it wouldn’t do a damned thing. Call this an incentive. Train hard enough, and you can start using a real weapon.”

“Is that one adjustable, too?” I asked.

She laughed. “I suppose for the right gunsmith, anything is adjustable,” Gala stated. “But altering that weapon at all would be a damned shame. It’s a masterpiece.”

“It’s a sniper rifle and a sniper rifle, only, Mirabelle,” my uncle stated.

“Oh.”

“Look at that – she’s actually disappointed!” Gala said. “Listen, little girl – versatility usually comes at a price, and in the case of a rifle, that’s usually its lethality. The Keugen makes up for that by being a higher grade than you could normally use, but by the time you’re of a level to use it, you’re going to have to upgrade to more specialized equipment.”

“We’re almost out of time, Gala,” Jeremiah said. “How much?”

“Two-hundred for the lot.”

Jeremiah winced. “I knew it would be expensive…”

“If that’s too rich for your blood, we can always cut some corners,” Gala said. “I’ve got a handsome little Eryanos rifle that will –”

“No blood of mine is going to use trash like an Eryanos!” he growled. “You know good and well I’m going to pay. Just let me grumble a bit.”

Gala grinned, displaying her flat teeth. “Grumble and groan all you want,” she said. “More time for girl talk between me and Mirabelle.” Then, leaning close, she said, “So, what are you going to name him? I suggest Ferdinand II. Or III, I guess. Either way, you can never go wrong with the classics.”

“Uh…I…uh…I’ll think about it?”

“That’s what I like about you,” Gala said. “You’re very reasonable. Unlike that grump you call an uncle. Female guns.” She snorted in derision. “As if, right?”