About half a dozen of the robots he had build from the trash was not enough to raise the level; it is reasonable, they were weak. Well, i still got some crumbs of "exp" for them, I hope, and what's more important - the ex-minister had a digital storage with minimal protection, in which there was a fraction of uranium, platinum and gems, which remained valuable on Pandora. Plus there were several licenses to manufacture robot components; hacked from Maliwan, it seemed. In the Maliwan-controlled territories, the death penalty for such things, and even the other corporations disapprove of piracy: eve if pirates start with their competitors, they then take their licenses, and then how can corps make money then? On Pandora, however, it was easier: here is realm of anarchy, and although there is a presence of corporations, but corps hold no dominance.

  Anyway, pirated licenses should be used with caution, but they'll still come in handy.

  The robots used as weapon built-in equipment like microwave radar and laser rangefinder, plus a couple of low-quality guns with traces of skag droppings. But as it is, a catch where you wouldn't expect it. Plus a sense of deep moral satisfaction from avoiding an extra dose of insanity.

  Did I say anything about an extra dose of insanity? Well, in his ocean, which is Pandora, it would have been an insignificant drop.

  The coordinates Moxie had given me revealed a bunker, with a massive, respectable metal door, like a prison door, with a narrow observation slit, now closed from the inside. I hit it with my fist, shook my head respectfully, then picked up a piece of metal and began pounding on door.

  The result was the appearance of a pack of skags from nowhere… I was sure I'd cleared the area. After I had killed this refugees, i meen hiders-runners, I took up my pounder again... well shucking fit! I even mixed up the letters out of indignation, I'm fed up! Do they have rubber holes? How do they all fit in there?

  This was the last batch, and finally the bolt on the peephole disappeared, revealing a skinny, almost pointed face with an obvious bit of madness.

  - Earl? - I inquired.

  - Crazy Earl - he corrected, moving his jaw in displeasure. - Get the fuck out.

  The bolt closed. I sighed heavily and pounded on the door again.

  To my slight surprise, the "peephole" opened again.

  - What do you want? - the owner inquired unfriendly. Um... First you should have asked this, and only then sent out.

  - I'm from Moxie, to deliver a package - to pick up a package - I explained.

  - Ha! You can try to say it is siren riding a unicorn! - he said sarcastically, and closed the door again. I rubbed the bridge of my nose (I tried to, considering the helmet), and again resorted to the only available method of interaction: I pounded on the door again.

  The slit opened.

  - I can't see the unicorn - the psycho reported, and it closed again. I felt a certain heaviness, and pulled off my helmet. I wiped my face with a velvet handkerchief with the initials U.U. (I wonder where I got it...), and put the helmet back on.

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  Okay. As much as I'd like to blow the hell out of that door and take the bunker master by the scruff of the neck, I don't have that much explosives, and he's probably got a corridor behind the door that's well shot by a dozen turrets. So.

  - Echo, get me Lilith.

  - Hello, most beautiful siren I've ever known.

  - You start with... - Lilith thought for a moment, and then hesitantly finished - ...the truth?

  - Telling the truth is easy and pleasant - I remarked. - In any case, would you like to drink a flavored coffee, admiring the mystical light of the moon, illuminating soaring in the cloudless, bottomless skies, flocks of rakks and a car dump with skag bloodstains?

  Siren stared at me for a few seconds this time.

  - You know, that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me in my entire life. - She sighed heavily. - And the sad thing is, I meant it. Yeah yeah, that says a lot about my life....

  The girl shook her head.

  - Are there any more tangerines?

  - I knew you only wanted my body - Lilith remarked.

  - Well, no? - I objected. - Abilities too, and a stuffed unicorn.

  - You men are all the same, - she grumbled. She smiled, though, her eyes sparkling. - All you care about in a girl is a beautiful tattoo. And a dowry.

  - A girl is not only beauty, - I remarked, setting the replica of the effigy in its proper place. - But also the contribution she can make to the common cause. But seriously, I'm surprised you agreed to come. Flattered, but isn't that a little careless? Especially to drink something out of someone else's hands. As far as I know, there's a good reward for sirens.

  - Well, you have a good reputation, - Lilith remarked, sipping coffee from a small cup. Moxie's managed to get milk somewhere; I should be able to find a channel myself, but so far I've had to pay a hefty markup. - Besides, there are very few poisons and tranquilizers that work on me, and I have an analyzer for them.

  She tapped a finger on her ECHO; I nodded. The program for analyzing poisons in food is quite functional and useful even in the free version, and if I were Siren, I'd be generous with the full version, it's worth it. Still, reputation pays off...

  I took a critical look at the installation. It's fine. At the very least, I'll have some good pictures to remember and sell later.

  Sir Hammerlock, whom I also had the pleasure of meeting (and a small job installing a set of hidden cameras; no, he's not a voyeur, but a hunter and xenozoologist, though one doesn't interfere with the other), was kind enough to lend me a copy of the stuffed unicorn. Why would I want it? Please don't ask - such questions destroy the harmony of madness with irrelevant common sense.

  - Please, - I said, waving my hand invitingly. Lilith nodded, tipped the cup into her mouth, and climbed onto her steed with a tangerine in her hand.

  I went to the door and pounded on it; a crack opened.

  Lilith let out an energy blast from her free hand.

  - Siren on a unicorn - I said. - Is that okay?