What I had longed for was accomplished quietly and without fanfare. Dr. Zed, whom I was beginning to doubt - not his doctoring skills, I didn't believe in them in the first place - had found a good shield for me. Well, a relatively good one; better than my current one, at least. It's an Anshin, with improved resistance to electricity, and an additional "medical" module that has a restorative effect on the body. It's a candy bar, I'd lick it, my tasty.

  ...if I had one. Alas, and probably quite expectedly, this treasure of purple, "epic" in my ECHO's estimation, grade, Zed was unwilling to give it away for nothing.

  By "for nothing," I mean "for money." Really "for nothing" this bastard does not give even used medical wipes, he sells them to some sect.

  Anyway, another mission, which is not so bad, because it means another portion of experience. And, about that... The levels absolutely did more than just heal me and add sets of memories with skills. I was clearly stronger and more resilient; I could lift more weight, and my shovel would dig deeper into wood when I hit it. I couldn't catch up with the Brick, but I was already much stronger and tougher than even a highly trained and athletic Earthman. Obviously homo recens physiology - hell, when I tried to go for a run, I found that I was more hungry than I was tired, and hunger didn't build up very fast, either - but my body's physical aptitude scores were going up with each level increase. Not all of them, though; I didn't notice any improvements in reaction, coordination, or perception, just strength and endurance - well, and survivability.

  ...And also the killing power of weapons. With each level, its power increased, slightly, but really.

  Yeah, it really is. No, not mistaken. No, I have no idea how it works. Yeah, it's idiotic. Pandora, man... Despite the claims of "realism". What kind of realism can we talk about after "The Wave" and the skag sniper...?

  Anyway, back to business as usual. The good doctor - is the sign "SARCAZM" clearly visible? - has asked me to supervise the delivery of a shipment of guinea pigs and lab rats he needs for medical experiments, protecting them from a group of eco-activists.

  Local, Pandorian, eco-activists.

  Given that the local vegetarian ideologue didn't finish me off thanks only to a miracle and the help of Slippery Jim, it's not surprising that I took this assignment very seriously.

  - Oh, and given the need to avoid casualties, you'll need tranquilizers, - Zed informed me. - I'll lend you a couple of guns with instructions, use them.

  - I didn't expect you to care about the Hippocratic Oath or anything like that - I remarked.

  - The Hippocratic Oath? - wondered the doctor. - Oh... no, you can shoot the assholes, I'll buy the organs, if they're in good condition. Tranquilizers for the animals, if the gunfight stirs them up. Or if they break out of their cages... By the way, you want to take a course in field amputation and autopsy? Inexpensive, and there are techniques adapted to the shovel.

  Pandora...

  It was obvious from the start that this assignment would not be safe. Examination of the tranquilizer guns sent by the "good doctor", however, showed that I underestimated him: the caliber was not at all for a guinea pig. Or even a real pig. It was more like a big wild boar... a guinea boar. I mean, even bigger.

  To be exact, Zed gave out three guns. A rifle that fired not just injector darts, but big syringes a couple fingers thick; a shotgun with some green gel balls with liquid inside as shot; and a grenade launcher with gas grenades. Labeled "For Sample A," "To Sample B," and "Against Sample C."

  ...A peek into the cages convinced me that there were probably more "guinea pigs" to fear than potential eco-terrorists.

  The "Specimen C" cage contained a dozen "badass varkids," as the ECHO had labeled them. The insects that had undergone "combat mutation" were larger than usual, with thicker shells - a couple of them had a distinct shine of metal - and they all looked a little different. The only upside was that they were all immersed in some form of anabiosis - but there was a downside. Varkids don't live very long after they've automutated, a few hours at most; it's their way of sacrificing themselves to protect the swarm. So if they woke up, they'd have to be sedated again as soon as possible, since Doc had ordered a live delivery.

  "Sample A" was overall a fairly ordinary, just that large, skag. "Sample B," on the other hand... Half a dozen rather small - cubs? - skags. Three of them were obviously "elementally charged", as evidenced by the sparks and greenish vapor that escaped when they breathed, plus the shimmering on their hides and the glow in the cracks in their skin. Three more... mutants, I presume? The hide of one was covered in plates of armor, and I couldn't even identify the material; it didn't look like bone, horn, or chitin, more like stone. Or even metal. The other was covered in spikes here and there; there were no horns, though.

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  The last one bothered the most. The pink skag looked completely harmless, and even cute, which was especially disturbing. I didn't even want to know what horrors lurked beneath that soft-looking hide, but I didn't even doubt that I could not trust that thing. Man, even in his cage he was lying apart from the other skags... Even his kin can smell a trick.

  - We, the Saviors of Suffering Animals, demand the animals be returned to the wild immediately! - proclaimed the dude in the fox mask - apparently. The smoker's fox, I'd say.

  The five armed types behind him nodded in agreement.

  Dumbasses. They even had white-grade weapons.

  I was the only guard - and driver - of the truck carrying the cages, but... Damn. I've got six armed assholes in front of me, and they elicit from me just a mixture of contempt and pity. Somehow, even though I'm a "caution and discretion above all else" kind of guy, and even though they're all armed, and a couple of them even have shields, there just didn't seem to be any danger. Especially since the ECHO rated their "Threat Level" as 5-6.

  The leader, by the way, had a 4.

  - SSA? - I asked.

  - Oh, you've heard of us? - the leader chimed in.

  - No, I mean, it's the opposite of a ASS.

  - I told you it should have been called Army of Species Saving, - the man behind me muttered. Army of Species Saving? I shook my head.

  - Wouldn't help.

  Those clowns... I didn't even want to shoot at them. On the other hand... Hmm.

  - Anyway, are you sure you want it? - just to clear my Pandora-ravaged conscience, I asked.

  - We will never stray from the path of justice and protection of our lesser brothers! - proudly proclaimed the leader.

  - Okay, - I said, shrugging my shoulders. - Do you want some animals? No problem.

  With these words I poked at the lock release button... oops.

  Wrong one. I wanted A, but it opened B.

  The skags, who had been sleeping, reacted immediately. Each of them jumped out of their cages and rushed to their chosen targets; most of the eco-jerks didn't even seem to realize what was happening. Two of them opened fire, but they didn't even hit.

  A second, and I opened fire, too. The shotgun fired quietly and with almost no recoil, but the shock and corrosive skags staggered and settled, followed by the fire and spiky ones, concentrating on gnawing off the body parts of the freedom fighters. The cannon was surprisingly effective... Though the skags were small and the ammunition was few. Probably expensive, too.

  The armored skag took two shots - and a reload - and I took aim at the last one, a pink one, slowly approaching the leader of the morons who had fallen on his ass and seemed to be wetting himself, looking at the beast with horror. Skag rubbed himself against the man, clearly selecting on the most appetizing parts, and then the tranquilizing pellets from the shotgun hit him.

  Huh, mercy is a bargain. I charged the assholes a lot of money to provide medical care. And don't forget the moral satisfaction of having guided the lost to the right path... ugh, I need to communicate less with the Pastor.

  - And if you get caught again, I'll sic Claptrap on you, - I told the disabled team. - Oh, but if you need coffee makers, you're welcome.

  Oddly enough, there were no significant incidents after that. I brought the cargo to the place and handed it over to the doc, who was rubbing them - hands, I mean, but varkids too. Pink, seeing Zed, seemed to be trying to wag his absent tail. Definitely up to something... I know these skags well. So it was a relief to turn them in to the self-appointed doctor, and get my charms. Even the fact that it meant having to move on the main quest and climb into the jaws of the Eridian guards, which they lacked, couldn't dampen my joy - especially since I was going to get weapons and level up at least one level first. I won't go to Kincaid, but I can try to order some good electric gun, SG or automatic rifle through Vladoff...

  A couple days later I met Zed in Moxie's bar, where he doesn't appear very often. Judging by the doctor's sour look and the nearly empty bottle--

  - Something wrong, Doc? - I asked. - Perhaps I can help, for a reasonable fee?

  He waved his hand sluggishly, and I noticed that there were three empty bottles under the table. A closer look, however, showed that they were soft drinks.

  - All the samples are dead, - he complained. - The ones you brought.

  I frowned.

  - Hey, I delivered fine, handed it over with no problem.

  Zed waved it away just as sluggishly.

  - Not your fault. The janitor screwed up, opened the cages, and the pink one ate everyone. Plus three patients in recovery.

  He sighed heavily, then pounded his fist on the table.

  - There was still one recovery session left unpaid!

  - I sympathize, - I chuckled. - So what now?

  - What's you mind? - The doctor was surprised. - Obvious, I'm going to charge the full fee up front now.