Condition Evolution 3: A LitRPG / Gamelit Adventure by Kevin Sinclair (ereader with dictionary .txt) 📕

incredibly good at cooling us down and wicking away the sweat, but unfortunately they didn't cover my head, which felt like a slow-baked potato.

We approached a large building that looked like it was carved from the rock itself. I wanted to ask Calegg about the building techniques on Torax, but I found I didn't have the energy for it.

“Hey, Havok. Is there anything you can do for the heat? I feel like I'm gonna pop.”

“I can stop you dying, but not much else. You’re already becoming dehydrated. Ember, too. I’ll look after you both as best I can, just drink plenty and don’t stay too long,” he replied in my head.

I prayed that the trade building would be cooler than outdoors until that became my sole reason for putting one foot in front of another. We were approaching the entrance, and my hope swelled.

But to my unbridled horror, the building was just as hot inside as out. I conjured just enough energy to look at Ember, who was trudging alongside me, head down and looking very much worse for wear, her sweat-drenched hair hanging down. That was enough.

“We're too hot, Calegg. I feel like I'm gonna melt here.”

He barely acknowledged me, busy as he was speaking to his father.

“One of you needs to sort out a cooler area for us. Now!” I said, loudly.

“Father, can we get Ember and Shaun to the diplomat’s room? Quickly, they’re unused to such heat.”

Calegg’s dad gave us a look of derision, then beckoned us in a different direction. We finally reached a room that had some kind of air-conditioning; it was pure bliss.

“Thank you,” I said to him, “and sorry, what was your name? We haven't been properly introduced.”

“I am Chancellor Dolegg,” he replied, full of his own self-importance. I was about to reply, when he continued talking, “I am surprised you are so delicate; I had heard the Fystr to be a highly resilient race.”

He was a dick, no doubt about it.

“Yeah, the Fystr are. We’re not Fystr. We’re the bottom rung of their Empire. Try to keep up, Dolegg.” Ember answered, full of snark. Whether he picked up on it or not, I couldn't tell. He sat down behind a desk, we three followed his lead and also sat, Havok adjusted himself seamlessly to allow me to sit.

“So, what value of Suldr do you wish to purchase?” he asked.

“How much are they each?” I replied.

“Four senlars, each.”

“Four senlars!” Calegg cried out.

“Is he trying to rip us off?” Ember asked Calegg.

“No, not at all. Before I left here, the agreed price was nine senlars, which was still insulting. They’re worth at least 15. More, really. But 15 is the minimum.”

“The Galactic Council has reduced the price to four, so it is four,” Dolegg answered, emotionless.

“We’ll take a hundred,” I said.

“Very good, human.”

“My name is Shaun, Dolegg.”

“As you wish, Shaun. I will take the payment now.”

“I’ve a banking chip for a Juntos account. Do you have means to take payment from there?”

“Of course we do. We are a trading hub,” he said, feigning offense. He pulled out a small device from the terminal at his desk before continuing. “The amount is 400 senlar. Please place your chip over the scanner.”

“No. We’ll pay what they're worth. I won’t be part of the system that keeps your people down. One that underpays you for your hard work and resources. I’ll pay 15,00 senlar, if you feel that’s fair.”

“It is not about what is fair. It is about what we are allowed to take for our produce. Four hundred, if you please.”

“Dude, seriously. You're being shat on from a great height. I could understand you wanting to stay here and mine if you were left alone, but you’re not. You're little better than slaves, like Calegg said. This planet is a prison.”

“You speak of things you don't understand, human,” he replied.

That prompted Calegg to respond angrily, “But I understand, father. There are others here who are not so happy with the arrangements made through you, as I remember. We’re being driven into poverty, and when the Suldr have run out, we’ll be left with nothing. A shell of a planet with no resources and no future. If you won’t stand up against that, then you should give our people the chance to at least leave, if they want.”

Dolegg began to laugh, “Of course most of the miners would leave on a wild Chugubi chase. Following adventure, rather than toiling relentlessly for little pay. But they often forget that it is their hard work that keeps our people safe. If they left, they would be leaving our people to certain doom when we cannot meet our quotas. Not to mention they will be killed in the great void.”

I was about to ask what the fuck a Chugubi was and assure Dolegg we would take care of the people we took. But Calegg got in long before I could articulate the thought, “All my fucking gods. You’re in the Galactic Empire’s pocket, aren’t you? It all makes sense now!”

His father started blustering speechlessly, “I… how… how dare you! I am a well-respected, trusted member of our governing council. The people understand that the negotiations I carry out are the only thing that keeps food in their mouths. The hard work I do is for the good of us all, I do not just run away because things are hard!”

Turns out his bluster was a ruse; he must have somehow signaled for guards while he waffled on about how important he was.

Seven large, armed and uniformed Torax men came pouring in the room. I jumped up, Havok almost instantly in my hand, as I moved to stand in front of Calegg and Ember. The guards carried rifles, but they weren't lasers, they were more like our Earth assault rifles.

“Guards! Arrest these people,” Dolegg shouted, with outrage in his voice. The guards moved forward, but Calegg commanded them to stop.

“Calegg?” One of the guards said, clearly recognizing our friend.

“Koparr, my friend.