—Something that many would be willing to pay a fortune for, even if it’s biometrically linked to you.

—Is that a threat?

I drew my revolver.

Chitosane responded with a smile and remotely activated an energy field to protect himself from my weapon. However, the smile disappeared from his face when I activated the Hyper mode of my gun.

—Calm down, Mr. Kailen, I’m not your enemy. Of course, I’m not one of those who covet your possessions. For me, it’s more useful that you’re alive.

—Why?

—Why not?, Mr. Kailen, you are a decorated soldier, a genius from the most prestigious academy in our lovely city… not to mention, I heard you owe two months’ rent and have no support from your family, which is a blessing for me.

—If you know all that about me, then you know why I’m here.

—Of course. —He lowered the force fields and pressed a button, causing screens to appear. On each of them was a letter, ranging from F to A.

—These are all the jobs that need to be resolved right now. You can check any terminal. Of course, the ranking goes from lowest to highest risk.

I began reviewing the easier contracts. Most were for acting as a watchman or guard: long-term jobs with low pay, more for visual deterrence than actual combat. The E-level contracts were similar, though in more dangerous areas. However, by the D level, active combat was expected.

—What currency do you pay for these contracts? —I asked.

—For you, in government currency, Obis.

I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at his answer. He was making this too easy.

Still, I nodded and started doing some quick calculations. Most of the E-level missions would take at least a month to complete, but I was lucky: I found three contracts relatively close to each other that I could finish in a month and a half. With that, I would earn enough to pay three months’ rent to the witch and stop begging for a while.

—Is there a problem with accepting more than one contract at once?

—Usually yes, but if you can prove it’s feasible to complete the additional contracts, I have no problem.

—Alright, in that case, I’d like to...

—Before that, I heard from a little bird that a friend of yours is in trouble.

—I don’t have friends, really.

—Mr. Kanes wouldn’t be very flattered to hear that.

—What do you know?

—Nothing. A little bird told me he was in danger, that’s all.

The way he spoke in circles was starting to irritate me.

—Maybe someone in this group knows something about your friend Kanes.

Chitosane handed me a device with a large screen. On it was a B-level mission.

—Old man, there’s no way I can complete this mission. You’re crazy. It would take a full team.

—There’s already a team formed. They just need someone strong to force some of the security measures. Of course, there are strong people everywhere, but what sets you apart, and what I’m paying extra for, is that you don’t run when the shooting starts. Besides, you’re reliable. You, Mr. Kailen, meet all the requirements. That’s why they’ll pay me extra, and you’ll get 30% of the contract. Non-negotiable.

—If I accept this contract, will anyone in the group tell me where my friend is?

—I thought you didn’t have any friends, Mr. Kailen —Chitosane replied, grinning from ear to ear as he realized he had me trapped—. Of course. Sign here biometrically. Know that there’s a fee if you desert or fail to show up.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I took a quick glance at the penalty clause. It was pretty standard. Without giving it much thought, I signed without even looking at the amounts.

—Confident, I see.

—Who will give me the information about my friend?

—Here it is.

The damn old man obviously knew from the beginning.

—Your friend is trapped in the same raider base. However, he’s on a higher level than the person they’re going to rescue. You’ll have a chance to get him out on your way back to the surface. Any other questions, Mr. Kailen?

—Will you answer truthfully if I ask?

—What is the truth, Mr. Kailen? Some philosophers say there are only individual truths, united in a continuum by the agreements we make.

—Of course, philosophy… in a den for criminals, poor people, prostitutes, and mercenaries.

—Exactly, Mr. Kailen. It’s easy to philosophize when you have free time.

—What I want to know is how the percentage each person gets is determined.

—Ah, you want to know if your share is fair. Let me tell you that, indeed, you’re getting much more than you would normally get under regular circumstances. Although, of course, under normal circumstances, there would be no way you would get this job.

—Explain yourself.

—Of course, Mr. Kailen. Usually, in every team, there are certain positions or essential roles. The most common ones are the gunmen, of course. There’s no need to explain their function. They typically receive between 1% and 10% of the total, depending on how good they are and how many successful missions they can show. Of course, in these times, it’s better to have one experienced gunman with the right modifications than an army of rookies.

—And my share? —I asked, crossing my arms.

—You, Mr. Kailen, will get 30%. An exceptional amount, as you’ll see in the contract you signed… without reading it.

—I knew it was going to come with a catch —I replied, trying to hide my irritation.

—Call it an opportunity. Your mission, as stipulated, is to secure and bring back the target, no matter the cost, any way possible. If you have to drag them or carry them on your shoulder, that will be your job.

Chitosane paused, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he continued:

—Once you’ve acquired the VIP, you won’t be able to separate from them under any circumstances. This includes keeping them safe from any attack, raid, or threat... until you return to the surface.

He said it with a calmness that was almost offensive, as if he hadn’t just assigned me a suicide mission.

I looked at the mission again, this time paying more attention to the rewards. There were many points marked with asterisks. Upon closer inspection, it was clear: some secondary objectives involved eliminating specific people, while others required the destruction of certain facilities.

—It’s just like you’re thinking —Chitosane interrupted, noticing my interest—. There are additional payments if you complete certain secondary missions. However, no mission will be paid if the main one isn’t completed. No matter how tempting the secondary objectives are, you won’t see a single Obi if you don’t bring the VIP back.

—Understood. When can I meet the team?

—In three days, they will meet here at these facilities. Are you going to wait here?

—Do you think I have that much time to spare?

—Honestly, kid, I don’t see what else you have to do. Your professor hasn’t called you, you’ve got a job, and you know where your missing friend is.

The damn old man really had me in his pocket.

—Old man, do you have a pocket computer I can borrow?

—I’ve got a couple of top-of-the-line computers I can sell you... with a modest interest.

—I don’t need top-of-the-line. Something from the eighth or ninth generation will do.

—Something like that is almost junk. I’ve got one, but you won’t be able to connect it to a central processor.

—That’s fine. I just need something simple to store large amounts of raw data.

—As you wish. Let me rummage through my junk.

Chitosane left the room through a back door, leaving me alone. I took the time to glance at the high-level missions on the board. However, I didn’t get to read much before he came back.

—Here you go, kid. That’ll be 6,000 Obis.

—6 grand for a piece of junk no one wants?

—Well, it used to be junk. Now it has a buyer.

Damn old usurer.

A quick inspection of the new personal computer made it clear that, although it was far from perfect, it was at least usable. It needed new batteries, a complete rewiring, and probably an upgrade to its RAM. But for what I needed it for at the moment, it would do.

—Alright, old man. Anything else, or can I get out of here? I want to make use of these three days.

—Do you have a communicator? —Chitosane asked, crossing his arms.

—No.

—Take this one.

—I’m not paying you more for your junk.

—This one’s on the house, kid. Call it an investment. You can link it to your arm computer. I’ll call you when everything’s ready and give you the time and place.

I didn’t argue anymore. I took the communicator and connected it immediately, setting it up and updating my profile on the device before leaving the building.

The plan for the next three days was clear: go to the lab, back up all the information we had gotten on the device, and erase the remaining records. It was a massive amount of data, a real arsenal of knowledge that could be useful to me in the future. To graduate, all I had to do was get the forge to produce something, anything simple. But the rest, all that information, was a treasure shared between Professor Gale and me, a fragment of something bigger.

The third day arrived faster than I expected. I left the lab with all the information I needed stored on my device. The backups had been erased. It was all in my hands. And still, as I walked away, I couldn’t shake a bitter feeling.

I felt like a rat. I didn’t understand why, but that place, that damn facade of grandeur, made me feel small. Insignificant. Every time I walked near it, I held my breath, as if I feared something in its shadow could crush me.

I really wish I never had to go back. Never have to face that invisible weight, that damned feeling of being trapped.

Damn academy.

To do:

1. Wait for contact from Professor Gale.

2. Complete the mission and rescue Kan.

3. Get a damn central processor (pending).

4. Thesis information acquired, maybe look for a forge on my own?