Or it would, if not for the fact that Mana and health regeneration is finite. That’s where the System’s ability to provide information is a leveler. Knowing how much you need to hammer someone means that, if necessary, you can work out what you need to do to end them. And in a few cases, the best revenge hasn’t even been direct attacks but the wide release of an individual’s build. For those at the highest Levels, most have gotten where they are by stepping on a few necks along the way.
A borrowed knife slits a throat just as cleanly.
“I’m assuming Credits aren’t high on the list because we don’t have enough?” I say.
One of the interesting aspects of Katherine’s list is the focus on the individual rather than the government. She’s got that covered. What she wants us to exploit are the people who do the actual voting—the man on the ground, if you will.
“Actually, it’s mostly because the people on the list are paid an extremely high salary to ensure they aren’t bribable.” Harry says. “At least with Credits, that is.”
I chuckle a bit. It’s the Singapore method of public service. If you pay your government servants the same as any CEO, not only do you get good government servants, but the need for bribery decreases. Not that the high salaries get rid of bribery entirely—as we’re going to exploit—but it does reduce it.
“Well, at least there aren’t any white elephants,” I say.
“Elephants?” Harry asks.
“Just something I read about. How some gifts are white elephants that stroke the ego more than anything else,” I say.
“Oh, like these?” Ali says.
A moment later, I’m reading a rather long list of materials, none of which I’ve heard about and most of which I have trouble even pronouncing.
“Gah!” I throw up my hands. “What would you need the marrow of a twelve-headed hydra for?”
“Alchemical compound. Useful for a variety of regenerative effects,” Ali replies.
“So, a health potion?”
“Affliction removal. Or regeneration from old age in particular.”
“Right.”
When he mentions the one thing the System will not remove, even if it slows it, I eye the materials with renewed interest. Once I poke at the details, what seems like a bewildering array of gifts become a series of weird, specific Master or Heroic crafted items and a bunch of materials for longevity potions.
“Great. So how are we doing this?” I prod the sheet. As fascinating as all this might be, it doesn’t solve the problem of how we’re dividing the work.
“I can do the gifts,” Harry says. “Between my contacts and whatever Dornalor might dig up, I might be able to locate some of these things.”
Unspoken is the added caveat of locate and acquire. One of the issues with much of the material is that even when their location is known, they aren’t being sold. Dornalor might not be here, but his contacts could be useful—not to forget any criminal contacts Harry might have made on Prax.
“Classes and Titles for us,” Mikito says, pointing between her and me. “We can teach or train them. Some might be more difficult. And there are the obvious ones John has to do.”
“Like the Heroic requirement kind.” I nod. Annoying, but those who require specific kinds of Skills can be dealt with. So long as they’re willing to subject themselves to the abuse, which requires trust. Which is often the sticking point.
“You also have one other thing to do…” warns Mikito.
I sigh. Truth. For all this, we still need to figure out what to do about the inner Council. And…
“The Duchess.”
I make a face again as the pair of humans voice their agreement. If there’s one person who can aid us in all this, it’d be her. The question is, of course, what she wants.
Time to find out what’s taking her so long to contact me.
Chapter 11
Of course, like most of my existence these last few months, it isn’t as easy as asking Roxley what the hell is going on. He didn’t even deign to meet with me, instead sending back a note that the Duchess will see me when she’s ready to do so.
That issue resolved, the team splits up to begin the process of getting votes. Luckily, the vast majority of the time, we have easy methods of contacting our targets, supplied to us by Katherine.
One of the things about working in such a big, political city is that those in the know all set up multiple methods of communication. Not just the official channels and the unofficial official channels, but unofficial secret channels and secret secret channels of communication. All of it is broken out into multiple levels, given out to various acquaintances and allies and even enemies as needed, depending on what you think is required.
After all, you might not want the government to know what you’re saying. Or you might not want to officially be speaking to certain people, even if unofficially, your government agrees with your action. And so on, so forth.
What we were given are the semi-public secret channels, with the requisite notations on how to let them know their information isn’t burned, just passed along properly. Which is a whole different level of secrecy.
“And why does Katherine have all this?” I mutter, staring at the Galactic equivalent of a burner phone. “Isn’t there a spy head or something?”
“Contingency planning of course. Also, pretty sure Earth’s spy head is dead,” Ali sends back.
“How’d you know that?” I reply.
I let my gaze roam over the park we’re waiting in, mentally grumbling about the idiocy of having a secret meeting in public. But since this is the initial contact, they didn’t want to be in a hidden place, so here we are.
This park isn’t that big, just over a few hundred meters, but with multiple dips and rises so that direct lines of sight are cut off. This is aided by the local fauna, many of which grow to twice or thrice the height of the sapients ambling along. Other than the occasional giant, of course—a pair of which ducked behind a convenient wall of shrubbery and masonry to canoodle.
“Do they really think they’re hidden?” I send to Ali, watching the trembling foliage.
“Sometimes, it’s more the illusion of privacy than the reality, boy-o.”
“Fine. But the spy master?”
I keep scanning while we wait, searching for our contact. I hope he isn’t too late. I’ve booked another meeting in another public location—a bullet train transit station—in an hour. And then another after that. And the burner phone is for the next set of calls I need to make, while I’m scrambling from one location to the next.
Even peering around, I see nothing. There are flying creatures, insects, winged angels, half-beast or monster equivalents, even a few elemental-bodied fellows. And on the ground, you get the usual plethora of humanoids walking, rolling, and jumping along. But not my next meet.
“Mikito actually told me about it. According to her, he was targeted during the attack,” Ali explains. When I send back a wordless grunt, he shrugs. “We’ve been digging a little into the actual attack. She knew who he was before because she’d been in contact with Katherine and Lana. And we reviewed the attack, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“They use the same teams.”
Before I can ask for details, a voice speaks up behind me. I don’t start, even if I want to. Because whoever it is has taken the seat on the opposite side of the park bench, facing away from me on the circular bench-cum-table-cum-elevated rise, without me knowing.
“You’re not human.”
“No. But I can get you the individual.”
“Really? Because we’ve yet to get one to agree to leave Earth,” the creature says.
I glance over, spotting the creature as it inhales. It’s a short, stubby alien whose grey skin and flat features are dominated by the trio of large nostrils situated around its body. Small flaps open and close, allowing the creature to block off potential smells and attacks, while even more fleshy flaps and strings of flesh deeper within strain out other gaseous particles.