Condition Evolution 2: A LitRPG / Gamelit Adventure by Sinclair, Kevin (black female authors txt) 📗

so ripped from eating only grass and hay, then promptly realized that I didn’t care. Horses had nothing to do with my current predicament. At least we still had water. I reflected on a time when I had nothing but water once before, and this definitely wasn’t as bad as the troll incident. It was only three days without food. That was okay, I told myself. Things had been much worse.

By the time Ipsis came up on our screens, I can honestly say that the last ten days were up there as the most stressful of my life. The endless boredom of watching computer systems, having no food to eat, and at the same time being utterly terrified. It really sucked. I felt I was massively out of my depth the entire time. The one saving grace was that I’d finally became intimate with Ember which offset the despair quite effectively.

The ship began to descend, and a voice came over the ship's system. We could understand and speak back now, thanks to the translators. “State your business MC-8314-Fe.”

“Looking for crew and a place to get some repairs,” I responded.

“Copy that. Sending over coordinates for Docking Bay twenty-one.”

Drabu had told us what to do here. Thankfully, Ember had written everything down and dealt with this dread-inducing responsibility.

We landed without a hitch. I gave her a congratulatory hug. “You’re a bloody genius, Ember. Well done.”

“No thanks to you, Shaun! And why are you sweating so much?”

“It’s warm!” I said lamely.

“No it’s not, Shaun. The cabin temperature has remained consistent throughout our entire flight. You should know. It’s one of the checks we had to make.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Ember,” I said, as I put Havok on my back.

“Do you even know if you can walk around with Havok like that?”

“Nope. And I don’t care. Havok stays with us at all times.”

“That’s my Shaun. You never know who we’re going to have to stomp,” Havok said.

“Damn right Havok!”

“Whatever you say,” Ember answered back, completely unaware of Havok’s opinion.

“Let’s go find a pilot so we can get back to Earth.”

We left the ship and were immediately confronted with the dock supervisor. A very pale, almost translucent green alien with willowy limbs, and a humongous head with really tiny eyes and mouth. They seemed fine with our presence, even bowing a little. It seemed the Fystr were like royalty; treated with grudging respect and barely concealed distaste.

I was so mesmerized and creeped out by the contradiction of his face that I let Ember do all the talking, that, and she was badass. “We’re looking for the best places to pick up a crew member?” Ember asked.

“Any one of the bars on the Fulinast Strike,” they answered happily.

“What, and where, is the Fulinast Strike?”

“It’s the street with all the merc bars on it. Go out here, turn left, then your third right it’s the biggest road in the city. Can’t miss it.”

“That’s great. Thanks. Is there a limit to how long we can stay here?”

“Yes. Until you can no longer afford to stay.”

“How much is it to dock?”

“One arlar a night.”

“Okay. Thanks for the info,” Ember said, and we headed off into the strange alien city.

“We might need a pilot, but we seriously need money more Shaun. No pilot will work for nothing, and we need to pay our docking fee. Let’s hit one of these bars and see what kind of things we can earn money doing.”

“Lead on, my dear,” I replied.

I received a punch to the arm in response.

We stopped at the first bar we came across. I went straight up to the barman and spoke to him. Translators were awesome. “We’re looking for work. Are there any good money earners in the city?” I enquired.

He looked at me like I was a piece of shit on his tentacle, then tentacled away.

“Real people charmer, Shaun. Come on. I’ll try the next bar.”

It was a mixed-bag of responses for Ember, eventually leading to, still no money. We couldn’t even buy ourselves a drink or food, and I was fucking starving. I was well overdue for some alien cow parts in my stomach. We were running out of patience with the Fulinast Strike, very quickly.

Oddly, our savior came with a fist out of the blue. A strapping blue alien of similar dimensions to myself, but with a head full of ridges and folds. He was an ugly motherfucker.

Havok warned me, so I was able to step back as his punch came in. He was clearly looking for a one punch knockout and over extended. Perfect for me as I thundered a knee into his midriff. It wasn’t the feel I was used to. There was bone in the area of his abdomen. With my enhanced Strength, the bone snapped, and the effect was dramatic. He went down hard!

I quickly kicked his head to take the fight out of him, but heard a snap, just as Ember turned. She took in the scene and in an exasperated voice, berated me, “How? I had my back turned for one fucking minute, and you’ve managed to kill someone?”

I held my hands up. “He attacked me, your honor. I swear it.” I actually felt awful. I really hadn’t intended to kill him. Just all this Strength I’d built up made it difficult to judge.

The barman leaned over the bar and chipped in, “I saw. Fair fight. Your man won. Looks like you have made some money.”

“What do you mean?” Ember asked, spinning around.

“He was after the axe. The strong and quick survive here. Your man was strong and quick. Two blows and the Grobar was dead. Now his body and possession are yours. I can sell the body for you, for a small fee.”

“Cool!” Ember said and bent down, brazenly stripping the body of valuables. She started handing things to me. A bag of coins was one of them. When she had finished, she asked the barman, “How much is the body worth?”

“Three senlars and two arlars,”