Destiny Among the Stars - Scifi - LitRPG - Adventure

"You know," Emily said after everyone had scurried away, leaning against the edge of the table, her hip brushing against his, "Hopefully, Alpha Centauri will bump up our level cap. I've got some work to do on my skills."

Luca blinked, trying to shift mental gears from whatever had just been building between them to the practical reality of their situation. His pulse was still elevated, but Emily's casual tone suggested she was deliberately steering them back.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. "The level cap. Yeah, I'm spread thinner than butter on toast."

"How's it look?" she asked, scooting closer.

She couldn't see his interface, so he would walk her through it. Normally, a status page was a well-kept secret, but it was a habit their core team had fallen into. Sharing stats and goals was just part of how they operated. He brought up the attribute screen, trying to ignore how close she was as the interface displayed his stats in all their messy glory. He read them out loud for her.

The attributes had been a point of frustration for all of them when they first gained the system. They had all dreamed it would make them stronger, more agile, maybe even grant them magic. Instead, they got points that mostly just sped up their Skill XP gain.

"They're... okay, I guess," he said with a shrug. "Perception's decent, from the Operative path. Intelligence and Memory could be better. Charisma's shit, as always. And Willpower... well, let's just say I'm easily distracted." He shot her a sideways glance, and she smirked.

"Alright," said Emily, her voice all business, "let's write down your skills, the attributes, and where you are. We can create a skill plan for you."

"I don't know, Em, sounds like a lot of work," he said, a sudden wave of laziness washing over him. The math alone was exhausting to think about.

"Come on, Luca. If we don't work on this now that we have time, you'll never do it. You've been postponing this for years," she said, her tone firm but encouraging.

"Ugh, fine," he sighed, giving in. He knew she was right.

"Great!" Her smile was one of those that lit up her eyes. God, she was gorgeous. This was still going to be a pain in the ass. She pulled her laptop closer and got ready to take notes.

"Alright, let's start with my combat skills, okay?" he said, already dreading it. His skills were fine; a bunch of passives that let him do his job well enough. Sure, he didn't have any at level 10 with special abilities unlocked like Zoe, but he managed. He focused on the skill menu and opened it up.

The first skill, Ranged Weapons, was granted to all of them at level 1 with their recruit class. It was the basic bare minimum everyone got. It basically taught them how to hold a weapon and how to maintain aim and stand. After that, the next five skills, from Silent Movement to Precision Shots, were all part of the Scout Combat Class that he unlocked at level 10. Everyone had different classes; Emily chose the Hunter Class, a mix of short-range and long-range DPS, Danny he thought, got the Brawler class, which, you know, Warhammer and smacking things up close.

The next set of combat skills were from the Operative Class, a branch upgrade from the Scout at level 32, and you know what? Luca absolutely loved these skills, except, you know, the whole intel-gathering bullshit. That took a lot of work to level up. Situational Awareness? That was a key skill.

That last skill, Tomahawk Throwing? Yeah, that was not part of the Operative Class. That was a regional skill, only found through skill shards in New England. The system was weird like that. Some skills were regional to parts of Earth, same as some items. The Energy Tomahawk was his absolutely favorite weapon, perfect for scouting or operative missions, silent, deadly, and it delivered a nice whack when it hit its target. And it was just plain cool.

He went through each skill as Emily wrote them all down. He was glad to see that his own attributes sort of matched these; it meant that he'd be getting a little bit extra if he used these in combat. There had been some debates as to how much extra they got until they sat down and started taking notes.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Ryan, who could be so annoying sometimes, or rather most of the time, had worked out the math, but Luca did not remember most of it. But it had to do with the skill's primary attribute multiplied times by 5% of the value of the personal attribute or something like that. Basically, the higher the corresponding attribute, the faster that skill would level, hence Luca's Perception attribute being the highest.

"Those are from your Operative path?" Emily asked, her voice surprisingly invested.

"Yeah, that's the level 32 upgrade," he confirmed. "Intel Gathering, Stealth, Critical Strikes, Light Armor, Situational Awareness... all 6's, except for Intel Gathering, which is... 4. And Stealth is at level 5, so it's almost there. Oh, and Blade Expertise, which is, you know, knives and shit. Also a 4, as I don't really use daggers. But," he added, with a flourish, "Tomahawk Throwing is a majestic level 8. You're welcome."

Emily laughed. "Of course it is. So, basically, you're a sneaky, tomahawk-throwing badass who can't gather intel to save his life."

"Hey, I resent that remark," he said, but he was grinning. "But yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it."

"So," said Emily, looking up, she had written the long list of combat skills and how much XP each had. "Are you going to walk me through the descriptions of each skill?"

"Are you kidding?" he asked, a little perplexed. There was a freaking encyclopedia of text behind each skill.

"Can you at least summarize?" she asked. This felt less like a captain's brief and more like a study session, one he'd much rather skip for a trip to the observation lounge with her..

"Fine, let me see," he said, focusing on the second combat skill. She already had her own Ranged Weapons skill so he wasn't going to repeat that one.

"And," she asked, jotting everything down, "how important is that skill?"

"What do you mean?" he replied. "It's absolutely critical."

"Okay, okay, no need to get defensive," she replied, "let's continue."

He went through all his combat skills, explaining how they formed the Swiss army knife for his operative missions.

Finally, Emily looked up and focused back on his face. She was so pretty but so adamant in going through this exercise. "Let's look at your Professional Skills," she said.

Ugh. "Okay," he said, focusing on the skill menu again.

The Profession Path, god, what a pain. These came from two professions; the first, at level 16, was the Pilot Class. He chose it because at the time, his dad needed some help shuttling people back and forth. He figured at the time it was as good as anything. At least better than a lumberjack, a trader, or a city planner.

The pilot class had upgraded into the ship commander class, which is a jack of all trades and master of none. He hoped the next upgrade, whenever it was, would help him specialize. In theory, he could upgrade his skills, but he hadn't gotten any to level 15.

Everyone seemed to have better classes than he did. Zoe had her navigation class, which was all about plotting routes and figuring out gravity wells. Ryan was actually useful; his engineering class was focused on Starship systems, and he could potentially fix their reactor or thrusters. Danny had his science class, which again was all passives. Joey's medical skills had basically allowed him to bypass a decade of school.

Those Basic Starship skills were the ones the Ship Commander Class had given him. He knew they could be upgraded to make himself more useful, but he had to get them to level 15 first, and that was a bitch. At level 60, they barely had 1.7m XP before they hit the cap, and he had to somehow spread all the love among his skills.

The next five skills were part of the Pilot Class, which was cool but limited to a smaller starship, like a dropship or shuttle, though he imagined they would apply to a fighter if those ever got built.

Recon Analysis had come from some dusty skill shard he'd grabbed at an auction, half on a whim. He'd sworn it would be useful by level 10, and now, with how much the System had evolved, he was starting to believe it. Vehicle Handling and Light Vehicle Operations were tied to the Exploration Vehicle in the hangar. As for the rest... well, he'd need them if he was going to lead his team to infinity and beyond.

Emily was silent for a moment, absorbing all this information. Then, she looked up at him, a strange expression on her face. "Luca," she said slowly, "you're a mess."

"Hey!" he protested, "I prefer 'well-rounded'."

"You're a mess," she repeated, but she was smiling now. "A complete dork, but a mess nonetheless."

"So, what do we do about it, oh wise and organized one?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation light, even though his heart was doing that weird fluttery thing it did whenever she got too close.

"We make a plan," she said, her brow furrowed in concentration. "A plan so brilliant, so foolproof, that even you can't screw it up."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I'm willing to be proven wrong."

"Good," she said, grabbing a pen. "Because we've got work to do. First, we need to figure out what you actually enjoy doing..."

"Besides spending quality time with you?" he asked with a grin before he could stop himself.

Emily blushed, a delightful shade of pink that sent a jolt straight through him. "Besides that," she said, her voice only slightly flustered. "We need to find something that aligns with your skills, your attributes, and, most importantly, your interests."

He sighed, knowing she was right. "Fine," he said. "But if this turns into a boring-ass study session, I'm blaming you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Captain," she grinned back, all teeth.

What are you doing, Em? The question burned in his mind. He wanted to ask it, to just put it out there. She was a straight shooter; she'd give him a straight answer. But the words caught in his throat. What if he was misreading everything? What if this was just her way of being friendly, of motivating a teammate she knew was prone to slacking? Accusing her of leading him on would be a catastrophe, an express trip to the most awkward working environment in the galaxy.

No.

He couldn't ask.

Not yet.

He forced his gaze back to his interface, the glowing text suddenly blurry and meaningless.

He could hear her talking about attribute bonuses and XP distribution, her voice a low murmur that did nothing to help him focus.