“You made your choice by switching allegiance to the Queen. If you thought that you could betray Her at any moment, you were mistaken! You should have thought harder earlier.” Tryd was clearly enjoying the dismay he was causing among our ranks. “Join the fight and nothing will happen to your ships!”
Several players lost their tempers and rushed the Delvian, but the marine merely waved them off. Shimmering crates fell to the floor where the rebels had been. A screen slid out above us and showed the image of the solar system. Countless ships hung around the Qualian capital. Suddenly, two of the cruisers lit up in bright flashes.
“Who else wants to lose their ships?” Tryd asked menacingly. There were no more volunteers — the flogging had had its effect.
“Any more questions about your battlesphere?” I couldn’t help but gibe at Eunice, who just shook her head in despair.
“The staging point has been loaded into your ships’ computers,” the Delvian continued. “Be there and be ready in two hours. Now you may go!”
The doors opened, but no one hurried away. Everyone was looking at Tryd, expecting him to announce that this was all just a prank and that the hidden cameras were there and there…After all, what the Queen was proposing here would force us to risk everything we had accumulated over our time playing Galactogon. In effect, we were forced to choose between our ships and our reputations. We could not save both. At least, not everyone.
“Any questions, Captain Kiddo?” Tryd fixed Marina with his stare, among the crowd of stunned players. “No? Then you have ten seconds to scram. Insubordination will be deemed a betrayal of Her to whom you swore your allegiance! Now hop to it!”
“You bastard,” the girl said with hatred, then turned and left.
Well, now we know where Kiddo stands. Her ship was everything to her. Above all, it was her home, with which she’d never part. As for her reputation? It didn’t mean that much to her after all. People like Kiddo would have no trouble enjoying the game while playing as the ‘baddies.’ I had no doubt about that.
One by one, the rest of the players began filing out in her wake. Defeated, shaken, unsure of what the future held in store for them.
“Surgeon, do you have any questions?” Four players remained in the throne room: Eunice, Vargen, Aalor and I. Liberium could not decide what was more important: Losing two more cruisers, which would be a substantial blow to the guild’s naval forces, or a negative reputation with all the empires. For some reason I had no doubts about Vargen. For him, reputation was more important.
“Yes, actually,” I said, before the Delvian could go on. “Only, not for you. I address the Queen: Where does Your Highness wish me to deliver the renegade Relay?”
“So you…” Eunice whispered, her eyes wide with surprise. She had thought I was here solely by the grace of her invitation.
“Hand it over to Tryd,” replied the Queen through her synthoid.
“No!” I cried. “I have no reason to trust this rat. No one knows where his allegiance truly lies and whom he’ll betray next. If you like working with his kind, that is your will, but I won’t abide by it. I will have nothing to do with Tryd again. Have you no other representatives?”
“You’re the same moron you ever were,” the Delvian jerked his lip in derision. “Why did you remain silent? Everyone has already set out for the Precian Empire!”
“Why, I don’t care about ‘everyone!’ I work alone. Plus I wanted to see who values their ship over their honor.” I looked at Vargen. “Profit is not the only measure in this galaxy, Tryd. There are some who value their reputation more. This was a great way to see who exactly. So let me speak with another representative or tell me yourself where to bring the Relay.”
“Very well, mercenary,” the Queen replied. “Tryd shall give you the coordinates and travel with you as my guarantor to protect you from my minions. If you wish to speak of trust, I have none for you either. You have three hours. That is all!”
The Anorxian popped and sparked and collapsed to the floor, turning into a shimmering crate. The Queen did not like my conditions. I looked at the Delvian and could not resist asking:
“What did she promise you that you are willing to betray everyone? Do you really think she can bring Filta back?”
An evil scowl was Tryd’s answer — while his explanation was a heavy punch. I crashed into a wall and began to get to my feet but Tryd was already upon me. He grabbed me in a headlock, dousing me with his stale breath.
“It’s not for you to judge me, small fry. I do what I think is right. So shut up and do as you’re ordered! Where is the renegade?”
“That’s not for you to know!” I muttered, struggling with my dizziness. “We will meet in an hour where Volta used to be.”
“Don’t dare fail the Queen, you useless cur!” Tryd slammed me back into the wall. “You have an hour! Then I will personally destroy your ship! If you’re late by even a second, you’ll make my day!”
He walked out of the throne room, leaving me to Eunice’s caring embrace. My wife opened her mouth to start interrogating me when Vargen suddenly interrupted:
“Do you need help?”
I was about to tell him where he could shove his help but bit my tongue. Help would actually come in handy right now. Not because there was a way to save our situation but because we could at least cause some trouble.
“Go to Barganil III and tell Wit-Verr that the rat is Tryd. That’s my mission and I need it completed. Show him the video of what happened here. This is very important.”
“We will do it,” Vargen nodded and, after a little thought, held out his hand to me: “I propose we settle our past disputes. Without any ill feelings or fighting. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed, shaking his hand in response. “No fighting, no ill feelings, but no friendship either. We know each other and we’re both armed and neutral with one another. And that’s it.”
Vargen simply hummed understandingly. I had no doubts that he would rebuild and that Liberium would again regain its place in the guild rankings.
The two left without any further goodbyes, and I hoped that our roads wouldn’t cross again in the future. Galactogon’s big enough that maybe I won’t have to see them again…Although who am I kidding?
Eunice was standing beside me and, as befits a wife, was breathing loudly through both nostrils. She couldn’t really say anything — if I hadn’t traded the Lexus, it’d have a Zatrathi bomb on it right now — and yet she couldn’t just ignore my actions.
“Shall we go then?” I asked wearily. “We only have an hour. In theory, we should make it. We can talk while we’re on our way. What’s the point now…”
As soon as I got back into my armor suit, I heard Brainiac’s wailing. The device that the Zatrathi had attached to Warlock was beyond my computer’s understanding. Somehow, they had inserted a Zatrathi grenade into the mainframe and then connected it to the self-destruct mechanism. Brainiac had turned off the latter but could not remove the bomb. The explosion would be small and almost imperceptible, but it would also destroy my ship’s computer forever. Brainiac was both powerless and terrified and therefore wailed in all the languages he knew about his somber fate.
It didn’t take us long to get to Zubrail. I landed on the planet and tried to convince the Uldan to help my computer, but he refused to even hear me out. I have to solve my problems on my own, he said.
“So what, you’re just going to hand over the Relay to the Zatrathi?” my wife asked, perplexed.
“No, and that’s why you’re coming with me. Do you know how to use this?”
I handed Eunice a small item. A look of understanding flashed across her face and my wife’s armor suit disappeared, blending with the interior.
“Of course. You can count on me.”
* * *
As agreed, Tryd’s Inevitable was waiting for me at the rendezvous point. A shuttle brought the pirate over to Warlock with two officers who immediately began scanning my ship for any signs o
f ambush. I didn’t even blink when the Delvian asked me where my female was. I’d kicked her off my ship, I said quite truthfully. I didn’t mention that Eunice was actually out in space dangling from the orbship on a long tether. If the pirates naively believed that an inspection of my ship was enough, I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.
“Enter the coordinates as follows…” said Tryd. He plunked down in my captain’s chair and kicked his boots up onto the console. I swallowed my pride and ordered Brainiac to take down the dictated coordinates. It was hard for me to enter them — Tryd had insisted that I war Rialto Bracelets while he was on board.
All of a sudden, Tryd fell silent. His muzzle grew long and the Jolly Roger 2.0 icon flickering over his head vanished. No matter how hard I tried, I could not hide my smirk.
“You ratted me out?!” the fox growled, struggling with the urge to rush at me and tear me to shreds.
“What do you mean ‘ratted?’ You’re the one who told me to find the rat. How was I supposed to know that the rat was so stupid that…”
I did not have time to finish the sentence — it’s hard to talk as you’re being slammed into a bulkhead. The former pirate loomed over me, a dagger in his hand ready to strike, but I found the composure to break into a grin:
“You’re going to betray your Queen?”
The dagger plunged to its hilt into the floor beside my throat.
“I’ll get you yet, small fry. Whatever hole you hide in, I will find you, and you will regret the day you appeared in Galactogon. The only thing that’s keeping you alive is my word to the Queen, but she won’t protect you forever!”
“The coordinates have been entered, hyperjump calculations are complete, hull integrity restored,” Brainiac announced, adding in the passphrase that let me know that Eunice was back on board. “Flight time is forty minutes.”
“Off we go then! Let’s see the star map please,” I ordered, hearing the flight time estimate. The Queen’s homeplanet was located across the galaxy from where the invasion had started. It was on the opposite rim, a little past the Qualian Empire.
Tryd and his officers froze, going into standby mode. Of course, this did not mean that they took their eyes off me. A call came in on my PDA. The Rialto Bracelets could not prevent players from answering PDA calls. And yet Tryd, who was being played by a real human, would hear my conversation. Would he understand it?
“Lex, I’m ready. On the count of five…One…Two…”
Tryd lurched in my direction. As I suspected, he had somehow intercepted the call to my PDA and understood our — players’ — exchange.
“Three!”
No one was actually going to count to five. Eunice appeared right behind the Delvian and stuck him with an equine dose of tranquilizer. A most potent solution I had picked up during my travels. The pirate managed to brush her aside but he didn’t have the strength to do anything else. His officers didn’t even have time to move before Eunice blasted them into loot crates. Eunice hopped over to me and cut my handcuffs with a sharp blow. Having lost power, they crumbled to fine dust, freeing my hands.
“Hurry! He has a fast metabolism!” I warned, getting into my favorite armor suit and breathing out with relief as the medunit removed the bouquet of debuffs.
Tryd really turned out to be a staunch opponent. He categorically refused to lose consciousness, even after we took off his body armor and injected more tranquilizer. The fox wheezed, drooled, rolled his eyes, but remained conscious.
“We’re in position!” Brainiac reported and the stars shortened to points on the screen. “We are being scanned. Green light — we have access to the system!”
I took out two Zatrathi grenades, stuck them into the fox’s belt and pulled the pins.
“Game over, dipshit! Brainiac — take him to church!”
I will never forget the look on Tryd’s face. No AI could simulate such a perfect blend of defeat and hatred. A hole appeared in the floor, and Tryd was flushed out to space where, for a mere second, he bloomed into a glittering fireball — and was gone.
The way of the traitor named Tryd had reached its end.
Only now did I get the chance to examine the system we were in: a giant star, of which there were but several in Galactogon, three lifeless gas giants for balance, one blue-green planet and one immense Queen — who was being tended to by thousands, if not tens of thousands of ships.
“We have been ordered to stay in place. A ship will come to pick up the renegade,” Brainiac translated the dispatcher’s orders. One of the myriad points began drifting in our direction.
“Captain, I am ready. Galactogon is more important than one ship. Even if I am that ship.”
There was a pause. My next command was supposed to be as simple as pie, but I had to force myself to utter it. I understood the consequences very well. The Zatrathi drew closer and I finally committed:
“Go ahead! Take us to the planet!”
The sparkling orbship rushed toward the green dot. Even if the Zatrathi had been ready for such a dash, they could not have defended against it. Warlock’s reactor hummed at full power, while the shields absorbed the incoming plasma, at the very limits of their strength.
“Captain! I’m picking up a signal! The protective casing around the mainframe implant has been burned out…The Zatrathi are signaling the device…The next…”
There was a dull explosion somewhere inside the ship. My control console erupted in sparks and some of our screens went out. Ten seconds before entering the atmosphere, my faithful companion — with whom I had traveled far and wide and shared so many adventures across the galaxy — had gone for good…
Goodbye, my friend! I will mourn you a long time — but to make sure that you didn’t go in vain, I will mourn you later…
“Eunice, man the shields!” I suppressed the roaring in my ears and took control of my Warlock. At long last, the Zatrathi had made a mistake. They stopped shooting, thinking that in disabling my computer, they had disabled my ship. Normally, they would be right, and yet their hesitation still bought me the ten seconds I needed.
“We are entering the atmosphere! Altitude is 20,000 meters!” In addition to tending to the shields, Eunice managed to report our flight status. “Multiple targets starboard! I won’t be able to fire the guns and do all the other stuff at the same time!”
“Don’t worry — just work our shields. I’m diving in! Look for the entrance to the spirit’s chamber!”
I wasn’t planning on taking on the entire Zatrathi fleet. All my hopes rested on the speed and agility of my orbship. We were expected out in space, not planetside. By the time the Zatrathi would activate their atmospheric defenses, by the time they would track and lock onto us, a lot of time would have passed. In that case, we might just make it.
“Scan’s done. The hall of the planetary spirit is three hundred kilometers to starboard! I’ll highlight it in your HUD!”
A blue line appeared on the screen and I abruptly banked Warlock out and away from the dive. A squadron of enemy fighters stood between me and our objective. We had no firepower — the orangutan gunner had gone limp with Brainiac’s demise and Eunice couldn’t do everything at once.
“Eunice, baby, just hold the shields up,” I begged, opening the throttle to full. Warlock’s hull could withstand a direct hit from six legendary-class torpedoes at once. What’s a torpedo? A hunk of raq hurtling at high speed. What is a fighter? The same hunk of raq, only a little larger!
“What are you doing?!” screamed Eunice when I headed straight for the fighters. The Zatrathi maintained a tight formation, filling in the space between their fighters with their typical spikes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I observed that this was the first time I’d seen the Zatrathi use their ships’ protrusions for anything at all, but this did not distract me from my main target — the fighter in the center.
“Hold on!” I managed to yell, before the orbship shook significantly. Sparks and smoke appeared from somewhere, but we continued
to race forward. The remnants of the Zatrathi fighter were just beginning to tumble away from our hull when we slammed right into the next enemy.
Our speed didn’t drop even a little. Given our mass and resultant inertia, we had the advantage here. Four times we rammed the blockading fighters until the sky before us opened up and we broke free and left our enemies far behind…
“Fifty clicks! Slow down!”
The blue guideline ended abruptly at the foot of a huge pyramid. Suddenly something began rapping loudly on our hull and its durability began to plummet.
“Eunice?”
“It’s not plasma! It’s raq shells! Our shields won’t stop them! Their AA mass drivers are pummeling us!”
In the air, we may as well have been in the palm of their hands — it was only a matter of adjusting the AA fire to our velocity. ‘Not good,’ I thought to myself and decided to risk another reckless maneuver. I didn’t mind allowing their fighters to catch up to us, as long as it got us out of the AA guns’ sights.
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