Condition Evolution 3: A LitRPG / Gamelit Adventure by Kevin Sinclair (early readers .TXT) 📗

received a call from Rufus, with Astrid, William and Wulek all linked in. He began speaking quickly: “There have been reports of a large fleet moving through the Dark Sector. Fortunately, we have been heavily reinforced by the arrival of ships from a mercenary group, a powerful one called the Rotushna. This has prompted a call to arms.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“We’re now apparently moving forward to meet whatever is coming. The Uprising ships need to go to these coordinates to be positioned in front of the fleet, along with the other smaller mercenary groups. We’ll be the first into the fight. A position of great honor, so I was told.”

The expressions on the faces of everyone involved in the conversation told its own story. “That sounds more like a death sentence than a position of honor,” I said dryly. “You all heard that shit. What do you think?” I addressed everyone present.

“We are being sent in as cannon fodder, Captain. To draw fire and hopefully soften up the enemy for the Empire fleet and Rotushna to claim the real glory. We will not even be a sidenote if this battle goes well. Although if we lose, we will probably be blamed for that,” Wulek said. Astrid nodded in agreement.

Surprisingly, William just sat calmly, listening.

“Are they fucking serious, Rufus?” Ember ranted. “I bet they’re looking to save money on our fee too! Don't have to pay us if we’re space dust.”

I had to say, my anger was bubbling a little at the insult, too. “Rufus, get the Fleet Admiral up and patch him through to me. You’ve done a great job so far, but now I need to speak to this son-of-a-bitch myself,” I fumed.

“Are you sure you want to change who communicates at this stage, Shaun? It will look odd. I’m perfectly capable of getting us moved to another position.”

“Rufus! I’m at the head of the Uprising. This situation could cost all our lives. This Admiral’s obviously a complete stuck-up prick. If we must deal with him, then I’ll do it.”

Rufus seemed to sulk. “Very well, Shaun. I will do as you ask.” His screen went black.

“I’ll keep you all up-to-date with what’s happening,” I said before everyone’s links closed.

A few minutes later, Fleet Admiral Mollissan appeared on the screen of the Uprising in all his glory. He was a pudgy, pink-colored alien that looked for all the world like a cross between a pig, a cat and a man. He even had big whiskers sprouting from his flat nose. “Captain Rufus,” he said, not even looking at the screen, “I haven’t got time for idle chat with you. We’re planning the engagement here. Why have you not begun moving into…” He stopped, finally noticing he wasn’t talking to Rufus. “Who are you? This is an outrage. Who put this communication through?” he yelled, looking around his own bridge for a culprit.

“Hey, Admiral. I’m the leader of our mercenary group. Rufus is one of my captains,” I seethed with barely concealed anger. “Having discussed your request with my crew, we can't understand why you’d send the smaller mercenary groups, who are unfamiliar with each other, into battle first. Wouldn’t it make more sense to send larger, well-connected groups first, with smaller groups providing support?”

He was flustered by the fact I’d called him out; he was obviously used to having his orders followed without question. “You have been sent here for a good sum of money to be under my command!” he yelled, angrily. “And while you are under my command, you will do as I say. Now get up there to the front of the line and do your damned job!” He snapped the last few words as if that were final.

“Admiral, our ships are worth probably four or five million senlars, and there are 200 people on board. I guarantee you that I'm not throwing all that away for a few thousand senlar at the order of some joker who wants to use us as cannon fodder.”

“So you are deserting!” he declared.

“Don’t think so. I mean, can you desert as a mercenary?” I replied seriously.

“You most certainly can. Mark my words, you will become the enemy of the Galactic Empire. I will make sure of it.”

“But don’t you need to pay us for being here before we can actually desert?”

“What?” he blustered.

“We haven’t been paid anything yet, so I’m saying we can’t really desert because we’re not officially part of your fleet. Which is probably intentional, as you’re intending to use my people to soften up some unknown enemy and make your job easier,” I explained.

His response was to bluster speechlessly.

“Look, Admiral. We’ll fight this fight with you, but it’ll be as equals. Not as pawns. Have a think about it and get back to me.” I flipped the comms off, then announced to the bridge: “What a turd burger!”

Elyek was staring intently at me. In fact, most of the crew was. Only the Torax looked amused. The Veiletians and humans looked horrified. “Was that wise, Captain?” Elyek asked.

“Is dying on the whim of an ignorant prick a better alternative?”

“No. Only, perhaps you could have been more diplomatic?”

I looked at Ember, and she just smirked at me.

Calegg shouted suddenly, “Captain, they're charging their weapons!”

“Oh, shit! We need to run quick! Someone let our other ships know. Tell them to follow us.”

Luckily, we still had lines open to them. “Follow us where, Captain? We can't go backwards. We are surrounded by Empire and mercenary forces. What should we do?” Elyek actually screamed the last part. That was the first time I’d really seen them lose their shit.

I looked to Ember, who just shrugged. “Sorry, Shaun. I've got nothing other than to go back in time and tell you not to piss off the admiral of a Galactic fleet. This is on you. Suck it up, buttercup, and get us out of this.” Then she leaned back in her chair like she was going to have a nice nap!

“Fuck! Alright then. Elyek,