It was still possible to find a "lure" for the Vladoff. The Dahl intercept had collected enough to make it possible to find something interesting among the mountains of garbage information. Thanks to ECHO, I couldn't have done it without him.

  That's what I said. A good word is nice to even an AI, I suppose.

  The Claptrap doesn't deserve it.

  I was extremely reluctant to make contact with the Vladoff; an attitude shared by most of the inhabitants of this galaxy towards all coprorations (not to be confused with their wares). However, money is money...

  ...After a bit of thought, I emblazoned this inscription on my armor.

  There were two options of who to contact: either the requisition department or external relations. But in the first case I'd have to send it as a trophy, that is, I'd be entitled to a share at best, and it's almost certain that the "share" would be given out as a share of files. And they may also forbid to sell it to someone else. So the only thing left was to try to conduct through external connections, as a deal with someone from the outside. Ideally, I would use someone as a mediator, but I don't have anyone I could trust. Not Claptrap to use for that. Though, of course, the story would be fun, and good fuel for conspiracy theories... "Hyperion's robot turns out to be an undercover agent of the Vladoff!" I smiled.

  It was possible to come up with something, of course, but there was an upside to give away this data as an employee of the Vladoff. There was no point in expecting gratitude from my superiors, obviously, but it was better to be a valuable employee than ordinary cannon fodder. For a valuable, promising employee there could be some support measures and some relaxations. It's a lottery, but it have a reason.

  The question, however, is whether it is worth reminding about yourself at all.

  However... If we recall the mention of the Almighty Bastard (AlBa, for short), this world is based on a certain game, and he (it?...) does not want to break its plot. So meaningful interference from the Vladoff is not to be feared, I suppose.

  All in all, it's worth the risk.

  I read my contract with the Vladoff, put together a request, sent it off. There are difficulties with interstellar communication in this setting, and there is no local representation of the office on Pandora... or rather, it's me. But it's kind of silly to ask myself (heh), so I'll have to wait until the request reaches address, is processed, and I get a reply.

  Just glad I spent the communication fee as a business expense.

  My request can take a long time to get through the Vladoff bureaucracy (possibly even years if it gets lost somewhere along the way), so I was glad I had work to do in the meantime. Moxie gave me something else, I found something on the ECHOnet message boards... It's not easy to find a good job on Pandora, but you can get by if you're willing to take risks. Here, in fact, even to go to the toilet without risk is rarely possible.

  I didn't have to wait long this time, though. A letter from the Vladoff arrived the next day, and not just one.

  The content was... ambiguous, and quite unexpected.

  Briefly - Requisition and External Affairs (unfortunately, the former had somehow gotten wind of it) couldn't decide which department to use for this data. And, I have no idea how, but they managed to come to a compromise. They offered me to choose who to give it to and what to get for it.

  External Affairs offered money and a deluxe model of Vladoff machine gun; not much money, but not a bad gun. Requisition, for their part, offered gratitude. And refresher courses (remote).

  At first glance, the choice is obvious (I'll be honest: this information was worth much less than the amount offered). However... I can't say that my money situation was that difficult. But "advanced training"... It's comparable to a military promotion in itself, but more importantly, it gave me access to additional licenses.

  Including a license to digitally build, own, and operate a prototype flying drone. Experimental Combat Rotory-Engine Tactical Initiative Nanosupport, that's... CRETIN...? What kind of idiot comes up with these names?

  Well, despite the name, the performance of this thing was pretty good. A turret wasn't bad, but it wasn't enough; and a flying drone would be able to cover me in a surprise attack as well.

  Anyway, the choice was between direct payment (and weapons) and an increase in... status? And combat effectiveness.

  The rare case when what is more favorable for the corporation is more favorable for the individual.

  Having made up my mind, I sent back a reply, and immediately -

  "You have a new message!"

  Huh. That was really fast.

  "Sender: AlBa."

  ...

  "Hey, cheater!"

  Hey, why am I a cheater? I almost resented it out loud.

  "Well, or exploiter, if you prefer. Either way, you're putting me in a difficult position. On the one hand, the rules are the rules, and you don't get a second active skill - not yet, anyway. On the other hand, rules are rules, and you've stumbled upon it quite honestly using the realism of the setting. So I have a proposition for you. If you agree to wait with the drone until a more appropriate time so as not to go against canon, I'll tweak a few things closer to canon, too, which will greatly increase your chances of survival."

  I wondered. The very fact that he was asking, rather than just doing, meant that he wouldn't cheat... most likely. However, taking a cat in a bag is not something I want to do.

  I was just about to send a "Can I elaborate?" response when I discovered the email had gotten more text.

  "Would have preferred a surprise, but that would be fair, I guess. In exchange for temporarily giving up your second active skill, you'll get the ability to survive a fatal wound."

  Huh. That's... Tempting. Sure, the drone would help with that wound simply by not getting me wounded, but its capabilities are limited, and snipers will always be a threat. Even with the physiology of Homo Recens, a large-caliber bullet to the head does not affect a person in the best way.

  And don't forget about grenade launchers and machine guns.

  I grimaced. The information is still insufficient, but perhaps it is worth it. After all, this is my life.

  "Okay, I agree. But can I at least keep the refresher course, without the drone?" I wrote back.

  "Deal".

  The refresher course usually was a "virtual class" sent to the ECHO that had to be honestly taken and passed. Norm. In my case, however, it turned out differently.

  "Upgrade! Archive received!"

  The knowledge archive in my head unpacked automatically, unlike the item in my inventory, but... Is this what you call "advanced training"? It's just a survival course in different dangerous conditions, from the boss's office to the wife's parents' cottage! Useful, of course, but what does that have to do with an engineer's qualifications?

  I shook my head. Well, you can't look a gift level in the teeth, and I saved time, but... okay. It's time to get used to the absurdity.

  The item in the archive turned out to be a "smart visor" of the "Expert Engineer" model, which I immediately inserted into my helmet in place of the lost one. Well, I called it a "smart visor", by function, but the ECHO labeled it as a "Class Modifier". This model is pretty basic, but it also helped with shooting by indicating corrections and highlighting vulnerabilities. Useful, definitely, although I had a distinct feeling that there are much more advanced models... it is logical, actually.

  And now I'm in the throes of choice again.

  ...Not so much agony, though. I've learned how to survive, the minimal skills of "Field Medic" plus first aid kit will suffice for now. Basic military training, complete with visor, will suffice for now too. My main support and defense right now is the turret, so I'll just keep taking care of it so it can take care of me.

  I nodded and patted myself on the shoulder. Perfectly sensible, me. The main thing is to keep my sanity in this madhouse and everything will be fine.

  So - Technical Competency.

  - What are the two main weapons of an engineer?

  - Automatic rifle and material-is-not-trifle! - said the audience in unison.

  - Well, it looks like you remembered something after all - said the lecturer. - And now let's check how much. You are divided into pairs, take materials and automatic rifles, then one builds a shelter and hides behind it, the second fires... And then the survivors change places.

  Composite manufacturing licenses, understanding of optimal shapes, hand assembly skills... Lots of stuff, really. Including an improved turret targeting system, and overall optimization of its AI.

  Hmm, will digital barricade building count as another "active skill"?

  Judging by the lack of reaction from AlBa, no.

  The turret had no problem shooting another pack of skags, the generator in the abandoned house was brought back to working order, and the toilet, in which the spider ant had unexpectedly settled (it was a surprise that almost led to the need for me to use the house of this Pandorian creature), too, and even Claptrap was remarkably silent, engrossed in watching some robot porn in the ECHOnet. Everything was going suspiciously well.

  So a message on my ECHO was to be expected.

  "Sender: Department of Development and Expansion of Vladoff Corporation.

  Subject: Assignment (Importance: High, Urgency: Medium).

  You are tasked with finding and providing samples of Eridian technology, at least three (3, III) copies. Deadline: one (1, I) month. If unsuccessful, your status will be eliminated."

  I grimaced. There was no sorrow... Well, it was to be expected that sitting on my ass for a long time would not work.

  At least I still have the Hyperion maps showing the location of the Eridian ruins.

  It would seem that "status eliminated" doesn't sound threatening, but corporations are used to eliminate it along with the host, so... I won't waste any time.

  However, the road of a thousand li begins with a single step into Moxie's Bar.

  - You're a lucky man, sugar, - Moxie remarked languidly, as usual. - I didn't expect to find spider ants in these parts.

  - Ants to sugar, - I chuckled. I quickly learned to take the femme fatale's behavior in stride. Maybe someday I'll try to make a move, but not before I've thoroughly improved my armor and acquired a cooler shield. - In general, I've done the job, and I'd love to stay longer, but, alas, I must leave you. My bosses - I jabbed my finger upwards - remembered of my existence and sent me to search for Eridian artifacts. By the way, can you tell me if there's anyone I can get them from?

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The lady glanced at the tip mug, and with a sigh I dropped ten bucks into it.

  - Mmmm... - she said thoughtfully. - How good are you with a sniper, sweetheart?

  I winced.

  - An engineer's main weapon is a automatic rifle and materials-is-not-trifle. I still don't even own a sniper rifle, actually.

  - Hmm... - Moxie drawled again. - You know, sugar, something tells me you're just being modest. And I'm rarely wrong about men. Let's go.

  She came out from behind the counter and put a "away on girl business" sign on it.

  Moxie took me to the firing range next to the building and handed me a futuristic-looking red sniper with a purple barrel. At the other end of the range rose targets in the shape of a man with an aiming circle, ahem, between his legs.

  - Try it, - the woman said. Shrugging, I took aim.

  The rifle felt familiar and comfortable, just like all the other weapons I had used. My hands didn't shake, the distance wasn't too great... Anyway, all three targets said goodbye to their equipment.

  - Ouch. That was painful... I guess, - Claptrap remarked. - Good thing I'm a robot!

  - I think you'll do just fine, Moxie remarked. - Here's my suggestion, sugar. I know who I can find the Eridian artifacts from, but if you do a little work for me, I'll throw in a bonus that you'll definitely need.

  I suspect I know where this is going... I nodded.

  - I'm all ears.

  - I love determined men... - Moxie smiled, touched her ECHO and it projected a map. She pointed her finger. - This is where the lair of the Snake-eater gang is. Hint: there are no snakes on Pandora.

  - Uh... Is that what I think it is? - I clarified, raising an eyebrow. Moxie nodded.

  - I know their leader has an Eridian cannon. The gang is small, only a dozen people, so you can kill them all, but I'm interested in one particular one, Fater Grabbe - The map changed to a "photo" of a man, a burly man in his thirties. - I'd appreciate it if you'd rid Pandora of his presence, and I'd especially appreciate it, - she stretched the word slightly, - if you'd shoot his... Snake first.

  I glanced at the man, at Moxie, and nodded.

  Definitely best not to mess with her.

  The fact that the power source of the local buggies was a miniature nuclear reactor made me nervous at first, but this was Pandora, man. Nuclear reactors are among the safest things here (seriously, extreme reliability and foolproof unless it's a Vladoff drone), and small radiation leaks aren't considered much of a problem at all. So in the end I decided to just be glad I didn't have to pay money for refueling.

  The "merry" gang, according to Moxie, had set up on an abandoned farm, and that got me thinking. From what I've been able to see in my time on Pandora, the bandit population here greatly outnumbers the farmers. How the hell does the population of this planet even survive? What do they eat?

  Skags, I suppose. Bandits eat skags, skags eat bandits, it's a cycle.

  That explanation satisfied me, and I nodded to myself.

  ...I had a feeling I was missing something, but I decided to call it a day.

  The easiest thing to do, of course, would have been to drive up in the buggy, shoot everyone I could with its turret, wash off, and do it again. Unfortunately, it was difficult to do that because of the concrete block fence surrounding the farm. It was not difficult to cross it myself, there were no barbed wire additions, but it was impossible to get the car through.

  This time I left Claptrap at Moxie's, and told her in advance that I wasn't going to pay any of his bills, except that I'd be willing to pay a couple of bucks if he'd be chained up to something no less secure during my absence so he wouldn't do anything. Moxie said she'd do it.

  Working for Moxie - and others - brought, in addition to money, a set of small bonuses. For example, Scooter let me use his "rent-a-car" machines to store my car in digitized form, and promised me a discount if I needed a new one. Hopefully I won't need to spend any money, but being able to keep the car so it doesn't get stolen is quite valuable. Not far from the farm there was one of the "rent-a-car"'s, which I used.

  Naturally, I had the archive of the car locked. I stole it honestly, and I don't want it stolen.

  I'm not a Solid Snake (and in general... don't talk about snakes), but I managed to sneak in unnoticed - not that the bandits were concerned about any measures to protect the territory. My plan was as simple as possible: infiltrate the territory, figure out the layout, set up a couple or three turrets in a convenient place, and then raise the alarm and enjoy the show.

  But life, as it happens, took its own twist, calling greed to its aid.

  Jumping off the wall, I took cover behind a pile of rubble piled in the corner and looked around. A couple of dwellings, a large barn-or garage, perhaps-a smaller shed. A booth of a street latrine.

  The metal door of the latter opened, and out came the type Moxie had ordered, scratching his balls.

  ...I couldn't resist.

  In my defense, before I actually took the job, I did some poking around on the ECHOnet. And, well, this whole gang is really worth shooting without even thinking about it.

  And it pays.

  The bandit stopped to stretch, and I took the opportunity.

  Moxie's sniper was elemental, and fired quietly - just a low crackle and hum. Obviously it wouldn't have helped, as the person shot would have screamed in pain at the loss of his most precious possession, but as I noted, the sniper was elemental, and the bandit, who had little bolts of lightning running across him, was shaken and paralyzed for a second. Just long enough to take another shot, at his head.

  It was enough for him.

  Now he had to hurry - he could be missed at any moment.

  - Fater, dear, what took you so long? The boys are waiting! - came a voice from the house that sounded like an impersonation of Moxie.

  A man's, obviously.

  I immediately started setting up a turret... and another one.

  Not in time.

  A dwarf in a leather belt "outfit" came out of the door. The bullet from the first turret hit the wall a couple of centimeters from his head, and he immediately dived back in with a scream that didn't fit his puny build.

  - Emergency! We're under attack!

  ...Oh, shit.

  I stopped the construction of the second turret, bringing it back up to numbers, and under the cover of debris, wreckage, and the junked-out hull of the car, I hurriedly crept away, going around to the other side of the house. There's a good chance I wasn't spotted - I was covered by debris, the dwarf looked away, and abruptly disappeared. So...

  There was fire from the broken windows, but as I'd hoped, it was only directed towards the turret that was firing back. I could hear the screams of pain and mate.

  Still, this flimsy structure won't last much longer. The poor thing needs support, and not only moral support.

  Unfortunately, I didn't have much in the way of grenades, which would have come in handy now, but I still had my options.

  Window, garbage... Having chosen a position, I stretched out my hand, and the blue cubes began to turn into metal. Not much stability, but there was some cover.

  I patted the turret on the completed part, and the second it was complete, I dashed to the next window on the other side of the building. And as soon as the bandits reacted to the fire from the flank, I added a short burst of SG fire.

  - There's a bunch of them! - yelled from inside the house. - Hold the fort!

  That misunderstanding was to my advantage. If they'd all come together, I'd be in a lot of trouble, given my survivability and strength. And so... The ammo was a pity, but I'll sell the spoils - I'll make up for it.

  To my undisguised relief and pleasure, there were no surprises or problems that I had already set up for. I lost two turrets, my shield was knocked down, and I took a couple wounds, but those were minor things. The turrets were reconstructed, the shield was restored, and the wounds healed almost right before my eyes - at least, after a couple hours, all that was left was redness, and that was fading away.

  The trophies, unfortunately, were not so good. One shield of the same level as mine, a few guns and ammunition - the most valuable thing, in general - plus some money and two grenades.

  ...Perhaps the S&M kit could be sold to someone, but I didn't want to touch it. Not even in digitized form.

  More importantly, one of the perverted bandits did have a weird-looking gun. Slightly "organic" looking, but at the same time it looks like it was assembled on the knees from improvised materials, mostly pipe scraps perhaps. ECHO hints and a bit of testing showed that there were no difficulties with its use; in general, the cannon is just like a cannon, except that it shoots something like small lightning balls. Damage on the wall was very small, accuracy was also so bad; the impression is that the assessment about the assembly on the knees from anything was correct. The only notable plus was that the thing didn't require ammunition: there was an indicator with the level of charge used for shots, and this charge was regenerated by itself. Unfortunately, even that plus didn't mean much: the energy in its battery only lasted for three shots, after which you had to wait. Totally impractical, so it was a good idea to give it to the corporation without regrets.

  I'd been recording on the ECHO from the beginning to demonstrate Moxie's work, and now I sent the video to her. The response came back almost immediately, a video call.

  - That's great, sugar, I knew I could count on you - Moxie gave me an air kiss. - And you've earned your bonus. Go to the location I'm sending you.

  - May I know what it's about? - I asked.

  - Of course, dearie. You see, corporations can sometimes be very useful. The Hyperion, in an attempt to bring a modicum of civilization to Pandora - yes, a hopeless endeavor, I know - created some of the traditional infrastructure on the planet, including a network of FTS... fast travel stations. They were supposed to be paid for, but... the access codes were leaked. I won't bore you with the details, but despite the measures they've taken, there are still... exploits. Which you could definitely use.

  О. Looks like Fater's snake wasn't sacrificed in vain.

  The exploit Moxie shared with me was flawed, requiring each station to register separately - except for a few ancient ones Hyperion hadn't gotten around to updating - but it was still a significant help.

  So. My mobility has increased substantially, the room I rented from Moxie is still in range, and there are two more artifacts to find.

  I'll get to work.