The Ultimation (Play to Live: Book #7) Page 21

  I looked at the warped helicopter with its smashed-in nose and nodded, “Sure! I’ll let out a hundred more goblins, they’ll pick up everything to the last burnt bullet casing. They’ve an excellent sense of smell, no metal detector necessary. All right, go ahead and take off, we’ll cover you the best we can.”

  The cleric standing next to me caught my gaze and shook his head; buffs couldn’t be applied to technology. But a blacksmith dwarf who had a maxed out skill in operating weapons and driving heavy golems had an idea. Cautiously walking over to the helicopter on the ground, he tapped it with his tiny hammer pensively, then quickly wrote some magic runes on it with chalk. One of the pilots stuck his head out of the cockpit and started swearing and waving his fist at the dwarf, but the latter ignored him completely. But dwarves have a good memory. Should these two ever meet in a more peaceful setting, I wouldn’t put my money on the pilot walking away without getting a serious beating.

  The helicopter could really use a fivefold strength increase. Earth’s fragile technology was in desperate need of extra HP and armor layers. It had teeth, but no brawn – a colossus with feet of clay.

  The major gaped at the dwarf, then turned back to me, “And you? I have special instructions for you.”

  I smiled. Shove your instructions up your ass. “I don’t have time to make trips. I’ll meet you at the control points, the closest being in Khabarovsk. This is non-negotiable. Good luck, and may the Fallen One watch over you!”

  After I saw the helicopters off, I let out Snowie with a team of goblins to drag the damaged helicopter to our castle. I called aside the smartest and most cunning goblin, handed him a Soul Stone, and ordered him to go West as fast as possible. Sixteen miles from here, he was to hide the Stone in the ground somewhere, then camouflage himself and wait for the portal to open.

  I followed the tiny green creature with my eyes as he took to his heels, and wished him luck. He was on a suicide mission. But I had no choice; in twelve hours, this place could be teeming with American soldiers. And while a wizard in stealth mode could teleport himself with ease, the appearance of a fifteen-foot arch leading to an alternate reality would not go unnoticed.

  Our fifteen minutes were up, and we went back into the portal, tightly sealing the door to Earth behind us, leaving behind only multiple paw prints, plus a few cuss words someone had written in the snow. Our guys just couldn’t help it...

  We shook hands with the officers who greeted us. We had only been gone a short while this time, but a trip to a different planet was still perceived by our people as a trip to outer space. I gave a series of orders: “Inner circle, meeting, now! The rest are to prepare for a raid on Inferno in two hours. Duration: two days. Alliance and all fighting partners are expected to show up, along with anyone who can be trusted and can get here on time. Old-timers to battle only; minimum levels for warriors – 180+, and 140+ for supporters.”

  We dined during the meeting. We had odd food; packed army meals. Increased IRP-5 field rations made in Starodub. It was something. Good thing we had traded our elite grub for these meals with the Russian diversionists. The ten-year-old cognac wasn’t bad either, just like Elven wines. But we had plenty of those, while none of us had had real Earth food in a while.

  We savored every bite of canned meat, sausages, liver, condensed soups and milk, jams, and fruit sauces. We even chewed gum with the looks of true gourmets, delighting in its true chemical flavor. MSG is the bomb!

  I made coffee in a plastic cup, took a sip, and made a face; There’s something I don’t miss! I quietly asked the castle, “Lurch, can you make us some decent coffee? Triple Dwarven from the Friday Recipes cookbook.” Then I turned to Orcus, who was pensively examining a multivitamin pill from the ration. “Leave it. You’re not at risk of vitamin deficiency. Report on the clan’s mood.”

  The orc flicked the yellow pill into his mouth, then thoughtfully massaged his narrow brow, “They’re mostly recovered from the shock caused by the rupture of the worlds. They’re crying less, and the health resort actually has free spots now. The people took great interest in finding and sharing out earthly loot. And, of course, our explanatory campaign helped a lot; eternal life, perfect health – that’s all you need. But once we started opening portals to the other reality, the situation’s changed again. We’ve already received over a 100,000 requests for Earth travel rights. Most ask for only a short, round trip; they want to see their friends, kill their enemies, persuade or kidnap their lovers, solve financial problems. The most vital issue on the clan forum is what to sell on Earth and what to bring back here. There are those who want a one-way ticket; mostly newbies who got stranded here during the rupture. They’re some 209 people total.”

  I had been expecting something like that, and nodded, “Calm them down. After we receive confirmation from the authorities on Earth, I will open portals for those interested. Meanwhile, make lists, develop rules and procedures; what to bring along, how to behave, etc. I want the people to understand; Earth is no resort – it is in a state of war. They could be sent to their home city a lot sooner, along with the entire clan and in battle formations. Quite frankly, Earth is making it only thanks to the people’s morale and willpower, but they are slowly losing ground.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Portals. Again. I’m sick of them, I thought.

  Astrologists announce that this week’s patron is the magic of Space. Quantity of portals in your life: +5. Portal travel distance: increased.

  Damn... After Tianlong had gained flesh, the border of the Valley of Fear naturally receded up to the canyon which was securely blocked off by Yavanna’s fortress. I didn’t regret the loss of territory; it is much more convenient to meet enemies when they are in a narrow pass than when they are in formations in the spacious valleys of the Frontier. Plus, the underground reservoir in the Dwarves’ Mountains was full again. Should an enemy decide to dance on a rake, I would always be able to turn the stone pass into a raging river. Not for long, but long enough to drown and crush all of the unwanted guests.

  And should the new space ever become crowded, there were millions of miles of unexplored lands all around. The perma designer AIs could always generate more if needed. Our planet can’t have just one continent. Or can it? Hm...

  Doubts tormented me, drawing some cussing from me as I thought about the quality of modern education. Do the illiterate masses believe that our world is flat like an infinite disk? They had probably heard postulates about something round and infinite. But only the gods knew how people’s minds processed the random fragments of documentaries on Discovery and National Geographic.

  I decided to poll my clan mates. I had a feeling that our people knew, but I wasn’t so sure about the Americans and Africans.

  The colorful arches of extracluster portals illuminated the granite canyon and the gigantic fortress wall. Too bad that the hundreds of thousands of graves had disappeared; that would have been a worthy monument of our love for peace. I toyed with the idea of issuing an ordinance; ‘Citadel passing is taxable. Tax will be collected in the form of a life-size gravestone.’ I also considered opening a mason’s shop next to the entrance, enforced by the clan. We may well restore the monument in a decade this way, make a small profit, and create a riddle for the archaeologists of the future.

  Warriors coming out of the portals lined up, looked around, and froze open-mouthed; the work of the goddess instilled deference. And so did the field of AlterWorld’s greatest battle with its site of the death of two gods. It fascinated like Egyptian pyramids, rendered visitors speechless like the Lighthouse of Alexandria, and blinded them like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

  This place sent shivers down your back, made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The mysterious corners of the Siberian taiga with its senile wood goblins and numb old witches paled in comparison. I could see crowds of pilgrims coming here tens of thousands of years from now. Some would not even remember why they were so eager to go to this particular canyon
with its suspiciously rectilinear hill and the remnants of a fortress wall overgrown with grass. They would think of it as a holy place left by their ancestors. The memory will fade, but the tradition will remain. This will be Mecca of AlterWorld.

  I looked at the army of allies. There were at least 7,000. Considering there was currently a shortage of manpower, this was an impressive number. We could raze Washington D.C. to the ground in either reality. According to the major’s calculations, one of our warriors was worth two hundred soldiers on Earth. In that case, we were like an Earth army of a million and a half. Awesome!

  The major was going with us. Wrapped in buffs and heavy armor, covered by two annoyed she-elves, he was obsessing over the safety of his video camera, which had been placed inside a lead cage for extra protection.

  We had fifteen minutes till the start of the raid. Our allies began to arrive at the meeting spot I had specified.

  There were Chinese from working clans. They flashed us friendly and somewhat ingratiating smiles, yet looked around wisely. They were many, but could have been more. Many of their warriors were busy confronting the perma criminal triads. Many of these criminals had escaped to the virtual world to evade merciless socialist justice. The best social protection measure was execution by firing squad, always welcomed in the People's Republic.

  The criminals had established themselves firmly thanks to their money, discipline, and herd instincts. The Chinese war against them was going to be intense, and we would most likely have to get involved. Duty to a friend is a holy duty. One must use caution, of course, as politics is a dirty field. Countries have no friends, only temporary allies and their own spheres of interests. But still...

  I saw the next few decades as a series of constant wars. Division of gold and widening of borders is a lengthy, bloody process. Even earthmen could battle for years; take the Hundred Years' War, for instance. Four generations of English and French slaughtering each other. Now imagine us, immortals.

  The larpers and reenactors stood in a separate group, a melting pot of a team. Their love of a hobby had outweighed everything else. Russians, Ukrainians, Poles, Israelis, Americans... a micro country of its own. They had their internal problems, but from the outside, they were like an orb of solid steel. At that time in history, they were our loyal allies, and we had even given them a most valuable parchment granting them the right to erect a fortress in the Valley of Fear. They weren’t in a hurry to use this privilege, however, and had no right to resell it. They loved their own nanocluster, where they had managed to conquer the laws of physics through selfless faith. Their bows had a realistic range, hundreds of feet. A single arrow in the eye could actually kill. I couldn’t say whether this was for better or worse, but I certainly hadn’t heard of any idiots trying to rob them lately. Such idiots were all extinct by now.

  The Vietnamese stood next to them, followed by the perfect squares of the Korean army. We had managed to get in touch with them just the day before. They had completely new leaders now; the rupture of the worlds and the anarchy that followed had reshuffled their entire hierarchy. But the new rulers confirmed their allegiance to us as well as the mutual aid treaty. They also sent us an unexpectedly strong battle unit; over a thousand wizards and warriors.

  As always, the Asians made wise decisions. They demonstrated their loyalty to us, and showed us off to all their enemies. No one would dare hurt them while they were allied with the Russians.

  The Japanese... Exceedingly polite, observing every single part of the treaty. They practiced ‘bushido’ and followed the warrior’s path. Not that this made communicating with them any easier; most of the time, I could better understand Hummungus. But they were great, selfless warriors, eager to go where they had a greater chance of dying, such as the first breach rank, or the retreat cover party. True samurai, in short; ‘Of all the paths, choose the one that leads to death.’

  The pictograms of the independent detachments in my raid-leader interface turned a calming green. The sub-leaders reported that their troops were ready. I nodded, starting the one-minute countdown timer. The bard who had just joined us emphasized my orders by blowing his horn. The piercing sound nearly made my gentle Elven ears roll up. But I have to admit, acoustic signals are convenient. You don’t always have time to read chat messages in battle.

  I shook my hands like a pianist getting ready to perform a complex composition, and activated the Portal to Inferno spell. The streams of magic were gentle and tame, easily forming intricate patterns. Yavanna’s fortress had the highest possible concentration of magic. Here, the barrier between Layer Zero and the Astral world was at its thinnest as this was the place of the most recent battle of hundreds of thousands sentient and uncategorized beings and top gods.

  I considered asking Aulë to move the wall. It was better to keep such a divine location under control.

  Kaboom! The portal arch opened its crimson jaws. The scorching air of Inferno mixed with the hot air of the Frontier. The ash of thousands of volcanoes spun in the sky.

  After a minute’s wait, thousands of our men and a few hundred women heaved a sigh of relief. Not that we were afraid of a counterattack, but you never know. It was all rather frightening. The word ‘Hell’ alone instilled fear which we all had inherited from our ancestors.

  “Scout dispatched,” came Cryl’s phlegmatic voice.

  I was too high in rank to give such orders at that point, so I merely watched. We had fine-tuned our raid mechanisms a long time ago, and considered all possible exceptions to the rules. The captain would man the helm only as a last resort.

  The scout hurriedly reported back via chat. A group of remote analysts deciphered the data of automated scripts and data dumps; “Interfaces: radar, script ‘Dangers,’ KOS list – clear. Visual recognition: first sector – clear... Screenshot sent, map archive sent. Second sector – flying mobs in sight. Third sector – clear. Last sector – motion detected. Identifying... Infernal cows, a herd of 40. A thousand feet away, outside aggro radius. No shepherd, no dogs. They’re creating like they haven’t been milked for a while. Rubbing their sides on the basalt, peeling off their armor.”

  I nodded. Most likely it was true that they hadn’t been milked. They were kept only for chitin plates – the most valuable material for trading and selling. And if there was no one there to peel off the chitin, the animals were surely suffering.

  I gave an order: “Get Lena here! Yes, the eighth grader. And Spark too. Those two will try to reach an agreement with the cows. Our clan gives them life, troughs with the best pumice stone, and regular chitin peeling. And they give us... hm... Let’s see what they offer us. Don’t mention the plates of armor, hide your interest in chitin.”

  Lena was soon found. It turned out she was hiding under Draky’s wing. Offended at not being included in the raid, the girl had decided to sneak into the army and gain a few levels along with the mithril dragon. Her skill with animals was more than enough to get Draky on board.

  That silly girl didn’t understand that we were trying to keep her at level nine for a reason. We just couldn’t deal with all the kids crossing the critical line. Despite all the bans, the youngsters were still leveling up by hunting castle rats and other small critters. And I won’t even mention the fights they arranged with hell hound pups, whose thirst for higher levels could be rivaled only by their thirst for a cup of fragrant coffee.

  The exit point control group went into the portal. Lena proudly followed, rubbing her red ear; my mom had a strong hand, and believed in old-school upbringing. In AlterWorld, a smack on the ear was virtually painless, but quite degrading; no one wanted to walk around with a scarlet ear and a light injury marker ‘Clifford, The Big Red-Eared Dog.’ Especially in the gloating, merciless child community.

  Draky avoided my gaze, pawing the ground and guiltily looking away. It was both funny and amazing to see a 32-foot-long mithril dragon behave in such a manner; they were one of AlterWorld’s most dangerous creatures. Our allies were impressed,
and my clan mates swelled with pride; Even dragons chicken out like lap dogs at the sight of our clan leader! Fear and tremble!

  Craky puffed out his armored chest proudly, happy about not having been caught. But when he heard the order, “Wing inspection,” he slowly backed up sideways until he disappeared behind the nearest mountain. When he came back out, he spread his wings with restless eyes, and put on an offended look as if all our suspicions were nonsensical. What a baby!

  Our army of 7,000 formed a spiral which was slowly disappearing inside the narrow arch.

  Lena’s cry distracted the warriors from keeping in step: “The cows agreed! Don’t hurt them! They promised to eat twice as much so that the dirty pumice wouldn’t conceal the noble basalt from us. It’s a big sacrifice. Their bellies hurt from eating so much, and their hide peels too!”

  Orcus chuckled. I shook my head; our bad. Some negotiator we had sent. At least we wouldn’t be distracted from the raid’s main objective by having to slaughter 350-level cows. It was no simple task. Those cows ate meat too, not just pumice. Their bites were very painful and left wounds which were slow to heal.

  I gave an order via chat: “Harlequin, Durin, and twenty goblins from the third line cover platoon – to the portal! Take care of the animals. Carefully peel off their armor plates and send them to the treasury. And no swiping! This isn’t a bunch of sundries we’re talking about; chitin’s worth its weight in gold. I’ll tear your arms off! Lena, we are responsible for those we tame. Take the herd under your care and be ready to negotiate with more herds; chitin’s the main export product on Asmodeus’ territory.”