THE ORC HEADQUARTERS
TWO YEARS AGO, SENELEC IV. OUTSIDE A CLUB.
A time later Captain Brevtok walked away from the grubby club and called for a pickup. His driver, who waited a discrete two blocks away, glided the car towards the curb. Brevtok got in and signaled to return to their headquarters, and “noise-discipline” in their military hand gestures. The driver frowned, but complied. They rode in silence.
“HQ” was a grand name for the split-use industrial building they were using as a base while on Senelec IV. The front offices were nice for receiving clients, and the warehouse space made a handy garage/storage. Nestled among other buildings that housed crafters and showrooms, theirs was conspicuous by not having any foot traffic. Business was not good.
As the Captain walked in, he pointed to two others, made the silence gesture, and walked towards the back of the building. The driver, a sergeant, and his Lieutenant followed. After entering what had once been a maintenance closet, the Captain turned on some specialized equipment that made overhearing their conversation difficult. It was very expensive for each minute, but he ignored the wide-eyes of his teammates.
“The special client has a new job. This one is real strange. Real strange. And it could change everything for us.”
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A DISGUSTING DISCOVERY
YEARS EARLIER. A LABORATORY SPLASHED WITH GORE, STINKING OF FEAR AND WASTE.
Narell looked up at the bloody mess on his examination table. “I did it. I did it. It works.”
An alarm sounded. “No! Too soon!” He grabbed a box from the table and disconnected it with a twist. It came off in his hand and he sprinted to the door, remembering to put a smile on his face just as it irised open.
As he strapped into his station on the Orc ship Captain Brevtok looked over at him with guarded eyes. “Did the mission go well, sir?”
“Oh yes, Captain. Oh, very well indeed.”
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A STRANGE CONVERSATION.
TWO YEARS AGO. ORC HQ ON SENELEC IV. SECURE CLOSET.
The shrouded ex-closet erupted in denials.
“A Heroic class? That old fravloa never showed as anything but an Advanced class scientist. Rich, maybe. But he scooted like mad when the perimeter started to fall.”
“What’s a Tainted Researcher? And what’s this System...”
The Captain cut off all talk with a sharp gesture. “We don’t say that one out loud. Ever. As he explained to me, a Tainted Researcher is what they call a branch of Researchers who got purged a while back. They were doing things the Council didn’t like.” He shrugged.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The crew thought for a minute.
“What does it matter, Cap? We can do a Lost Zone drop with the four of us. I don’t think we will last even an hour, but we can make it. And we need the credits.”
The Lieutenant had the grace to look down as she said the last. It was on all their minds. The last mission had gone terribly wrong. They had moved in at the request of a small kingdom to support an offensive against their neighbors. Their intelligence said the drop site was clear. And the intelligence was wrong.
The Captain, a Master class marine, had been targeted by two Master class combatants and locked down. As he battled to get back to his team of Basic and Advanced classers, a much larger group, heavy on Advanced members, started a cross-fire that shredded their numbers. The Captain called a retreat and deployed a small fortune in consumable weapons to cover them.
The kingdom lost the war and sued the company for breach of contract. The company won, but legal fees and the loss of reputation had bled them. They lost 40% of their members, and were struggling to recruit new ones.
The Captain pulled himself upright. These people were his battle-family, and he hesitated to speak to them of the crazy-sounding talk he’d heard. But the possibility goaded him along.
“This isn’t to the Lost Zone. It’s to a non-System planet.” Before the shouting could start again he held up a projector. “Watch this.”
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ARE ALL GROBBIN THIS CRAZY?
TWO YEARS AGO. ORC HQ, EX-CLOSET
The projection played in each of their HUD’s giving them all the same view.
“Here’s the part.” Captain Brevtok hoped Narell was as persuasive on video.
“I am a Researcher, as you know. I study the System. I track it, push it, embrace it. On an expedition six years ago I gained a level. THE level. My Heroic class. Outwardly, I am a Senior Mana Scientist, but that exterior has not changed in decades. I leveled in private and hid what I am. When I gained the Heroic level, the system embraced ME. I was given a hidden class. The one you see before you: System Hacker (Script Kiddie).
“By predicting when the System is going to enact one of its effects, I can have my own changes ready to execute instead. The process is similar to replacing an order in a computer. I also have to watch out that this change is not big enough to call down the watchers of said system. Or System.
“That’s not enough. I want more. I will always be vulnerable to combat classes, those who never spent their time and fortune on what I know. But now I can change all of that, and take you with me.
“In two years, there will be admitted to the System a new Dungeon World.”
The Captain held up a hand. “Probably, you mean? Did you get an oracle?”
“No,” Said Narell. “I have been told that this new planet, called Earth, will be a Dungeon World. It has already been decided. The dice are loaded, if you will.”
The Captain frowned, but looked again at the Heroic notification above Narell’s head and nodded. “Okay.”
“During the hours before the world is integrated, and an hour afterwards are very special times. The System stages mana around the world and prepares to embrace it. The systems within the System also deploy loosely in wait. With just the right push, a System resident can reset their levels to begin leveling again. Wait!”
The Captain had been about to object, but sat back.
“Instead of having these levels ripped from them, taking flesh and soul, a minor change would instead bank the user’s experience, while letting them KEEP their top class.” Narell sat back triumphantly.
There was silence for an uncomfortably long time. “What?” said Brevtok.
Impatiently, Narell said “You would be a Master Marine, with 130 levels of banked experience, at level one. On a Dungeon World!”
The video playback ended. The Orc marines mulled over this content, sometimes quietly, other times with shouts.
After more than an hour they agreed. The client believed this was possible. And it could change everything.