"Well, actually…," he trailed off as his eyes teamed up. "You wouldn't understand, like the other NPCs, but yeah, it has something to do with the game… I mean… job starts with aliens kidnapping the players…"
I could already guess where this was leading to. Those alien kidnappers referred to the Iktomins.
I detested how Trey used the word 'alien' to describe us. The real irony is that Trey is more the alien to our galaxy, if his claims were true.
"… then the aliens will operate on you. But for some weird reason, I felt the pain, and those restrains. Yet I can't remember much of it except for that one big bright light above me," Trey continued as he scratched his head.
For some odd reason, Trey seemed to think of it as game memories, all part of some tutorial. He described the surgical procedures by pulling his clothing up to show me areas on his body like the wrists, ankles and even the back.
My optical implants caught sight of those microscopic surgical closures with a faint telltale cybernetic signal.
He continued droning on and on about the mysterious dashboard, appearing each time he 'leveled up his experience' to gain release from the 'virtual reality'.
The way he spoke of it sounded far-fetched enough for others to disregard him as insane.
Yeah right, eat a pill and get full strength or some other crap about stats like health or a crummy agility attribute as he enthusiastically spoke about like some proud expert.
If life was so simple, I'd volunteer to be in his situation.
Then again, not really.
He continued his story enthusiastically about the Iktomins releasing him with a grand prize if he completed all missions.
They released after brainwashing him with delusions of finishing some 'simulated' game tutorial in a galactic game where his given role was of fulfilling the missions given.
That so-called grand prize would allow him to return to some 'reality' like his home planet Earth to live a life of luxury.
If something seems too good, it probably isn't. With the Iktomins, 100% bad news was a guarantee.
Unlikely. Trey's grand prize was far more insidious. They abandoned him after capture and should his cybernetic implants fail, maiming or death would result. Trey remained clueless about his impending demise.
Each cybernetic implant required regular maintenance every few galactic cycles to function properly.
Death spared me because of my regenerative atomite system and Arabaki as the backup to perform necessary repairs.
If used correctly, I can weaponise the very naïve Trey against the Iktomins, should the need arise.
"Say, you said your system and home-world were destroyed… did your family escape?" Trey asked.
'Family' held no meaning for me. Military class Kamuy made up my family before the destruction.
Arabaki, the darn droid swarm, is the closest thing I had to a family now.
I tolerated Trey's ramblings to establish a usable connection to divert attention from me and also deal a nasty blow to the Iktomins for the heck of it.
If they released Trey, his memory of speaking to me may arouse the Iktomin's undesirable interest in my Kamuy cybernetic technology.
The silly human thought of me as some new friend by asking about my 'family'.
Interesting.
'Family', the word often used by targets begging me for their life. Their attempt to create a commonality of 'family' failed to elicit my sympathy.
"Oh, the other mercenaries will be fine. I made provisions for my… them. And yours?" I replied, wondering if Arabaki would follow my instructions.
"Why mercenaries? They're not biologically linked to you?"
"Biologically linked? Nah. Lost everyone when a strange phenomenon destroyed my planetary system. So what can I do? Find other species and band up with them to eke a living across space."
Well, that's the truth.
Any hint of another Kamuy's existence needed to be extinguished. Arabaki may not be Kamuy, but I would technically consider the droid swarm family since I used my atomites to create them.
Trey's voice cracked a little. "I miss my biological family. My mom, my pops… my lil sister… I haven't seen them for a long time… but hey I need to get out of this first."
He can't even get out of the battle fortress, let alone the galaxy.
The Great Swirl Council may detain him for a thorough investigation, including the study of the Iktomin cybernetic technology.
I won't know how far they will go. They could also use him to lure others implanted with Iktomin cybernetics.
The Great Swirl Council scientists won't try to detain me for study if I remind them of the historical trend of the legendary devastating Kamuy self-implosion.
As a last resort, the two droids in my mouth have enough capability to create a system-wide failure in a battle fortress if they reached the mainframe of the ship.
"Why use a false identity?" Trey changed the topic again.
The Iktomins brainwashed Trey with that dashboard into thinking the surrounding reality was simulated. Should I implant a sob story into Trey's mind?
I had heard stories about their brainwashing techniques, but never came up close to a live active subject they experimented on until meeting Trey.
Eons ago, my inspection team, including me, boarded the Iktomin ship eons ago where the experimented subjects either almost dead or very dead.
Even for someone who had killed many on the battlefield, I shifted my position at the uncomfortable memories of those pathetic cries coming from mangled and mutilated bodies, metal pieces, and wiring in one bloody surgical room.
I never found an explanation for the Iktomins' fanatical obsession with fueling extreme entertainment.
Trey was one of the few lucky ones to survive the process of their cybernetic technology.
He also provided me with the tactical opportunity to study how far they went with the tech.
Know thy enemy.
An idea popped into my head. The droids hidden in my mouth could analyze the structures within Trey, but I needed to move cautiously.
"Re supply of my ship. Ships fall apart without parts," I replied.
"But why not your real identity?"
"Never like using my real identity."
"Don't tell me we have the same job?"
I scoffed at his question, but made no noise on the top of my bunker bed. His assassination missions would be a child's play for me.
The Kamuy trained us from young to be killers when necessary. Killing in battle or espionage missions almost felt like breathing for survival.
However, after the Kamuy planetary system went up in smoke, I hardly took assassination jobs, even though my experience and qualifications suited most clientele in the quadrant.
Simply because I hated being on the planet's surface too long. Whether big, small, or even primitive, the daylight troubled my eyes, along with the crowding interactions with individuals.
Only when I needed a rare but necessary item, or if it involved shooting down a ship, then I would consider the assassination job.
"I'm just a mercenary. We ferry goods or do odd jobs like scavenger operations, and some come with danger," I replied. "We go through regions of space infested with space pirates."
"Ah, yeah, I always take a ride with mercenaries."
"You don't have your own ship?" I asked, surprised at his mode of transportation.
Didn't the Iktomins teach them how to fly the most basic space ships?
"No. The dashboard provides the instructions on who and where to meet," Trey replied. "Unfortunately, this time, this battle fortress pulled up the transport ship I took, and the soldiers took me. I didn't realise they have fancy shit to check… so here I am."