Though well over a century old, Stratton Student Center possessed an atmosphere far more modern than most buildings on campus thanks to recent interior renovations. Its stark concrete walls contained a bookstore, post office, and a multitude of dining options. Now at the peak of the lunch hour, students occupied nearly every seat and table. Having purchased his lunch, Mark moved to the brightly lit dining area in search of his roommate.

Unlike Mark, who just left his biology lecture, Ivan's course schedule let him beat the daily lunch rush three days a week. The two fell into a habit where Ivan would claim a table for the two where they could then eat while discussing topics such as coursework, current events, or in game organizational matters.

This day was apparently different.

From across the dining hall, Mark found Ivan absorbed in conversation with a girl he didn't recognize. By looks, she didn't stand out much, with shoulder length brown hair and wearing a school branded jacket. Had she not been in his usual chair, Mark would have never noticed her. Empty plates and tableware were pushed to the side as they chatted away.

So, do I sit down as usual or just leave you two be?

Ivan already went through two relationships in as many months during their time as roommates. Though she didn't fall into what Mark recalled to be Ivan's preferences, he seemed well on his way to a third girlfriend for the semester.

Might as well ask. Mark walked over to the two sitting at the lunch table. “Hi Ivan, are you busy right now?”

“We were waiting for you actually,” Ivan said.

“Oh? So who might this be?”

“This is Regina Farrell, a freshman in the computer science program,” Ivan said, “But you already know her by the name April Leif.”

“Nice to meet you,” Regina said, offering her hand with a smile.

“Wait, seriously?” Mark shook her hand and took the seat by Ivan. The applicant we just accepted was an MIT student? And Ivan's already arranged a real-life meeting? Holy shit you work fast.

“Ivan's told me about you already Mark.”

“Well Ivan, you better tell me how this meeting came about.”

“Easy,” Ivan said. “When we received her membership application, I noticed that her IP address was practically identical to ours. That means we have the same service provider, which is the school. Since April had to be somehow connected to MIT, I sent her a message asking if she wanted to meet up.”

Yep, way too fast. “So I'm guessing we're talking Parallax today.”

“Rena was about to tell me about her old orgs. Seeing if she can contribute in any way while we drill her on combat stuff.”

You've already given her a nickname too!?

“Yes, I was a member of Silk Rogues and then Binary Moon.”

“Silk Rogues?" Mark asked. " That monster org that's monopolized Confederacy space transport?”

“Monopolized? What does that mean?” Ivan scratched his head.

“That means they're literally the only org that does shipping in the Confederacy,” Mark said.

“How is that possible?”

“Let me explain,” Regina said. “Basically, Silk Rogues has the best method in PG to find the cheapest route between any number of systems. It's the traveling salesman problem, but in Parallax Gate, you have planets and gates orbiting stars instead of towns at fixed distances. That makes route optimization a nightmare, and for merchant orgs in Confederacy space, how effectively you can save on fuel credits is the single denominator in your profitability.”

“How do they do it then? You're allowed to tell right?” Ivan asked.

“Well only the org leader really knows. In the Rogues' private digital space, there’s an interface to some black box the org leader owns. Put in your point of origin and destinations and latest possible arrival time for each and it gives you the route. The org leader's either a genius in combinatorial optimization and wrote an amazing algorithm, or he has a personal supercomputer.”

“So why don't they expand beyond the Confederacy?” Ivan asked.

Mark jabbed Ivan's shoulder. “Because of orgs like us obviously. The cost optimization becomes impossible once you have unknowns like pirates.”

“Not just that,” Regina said, “the members all hate taking risk and would rather scrape together pennies than gamble for a few dollars.”

“Still sounds like easy money. Why'd you leave?” Ivan asked.

“They were the most boring people I've ever met. You'd have more fun chatting with an AI these days. I left after about a week. I don't think the org leader even plays the game. He just lets anyone in and charges a terminal use fee for the algorithm. Probably sells the profits for real cash.”

“Wait,” Ivan said, “how much money is that?”

“Two hundred credits per use, each member used it about twice per day, and the average daily member activity is about eleven thousand. So, four point four million credits per day with a dollar exchange rate of fifteen dollars per million credits, which comes out to thirty-three dollars a day, or twenty-four thousand a year.”

“Hey Rena, you're in computer science right?” Ivan stood, leaning over the table with eyes sparkling. “Lets crack that algorithm and steal those profits!”

Regina shifted back in her chair. “Whoa, where did that come from?”

Mark sighed. “What happened to conquering the Parallax galaxy? Besides, when we graduate, we should be expecting salaries at least five times that.”

“Oh, right, I almost forgot about that.”

Regina giggled. “Is Ivan one of those smart kids from a poor family you often hear about at MIT?”

“No, just short-sighted and impulsive,” Mark said.

“Hey!”

“Anyways, I haven't heard of Binary Moon before. It's a nice org name though. What did they do?”

“It isn't famous at all, just a medium size exploration org with about sixty members. The idea behind the name was that we'd go out and find the rare or beautiful sights of the Parallax galaxy. The org was split into teams of six to eight and each team would navigate new gates and scan systems for anything interesting or valuable. Anything interesting was shared on the org forum while nav data for anything valuable was sold to fund more exploring.”

“Did you actually find anything interesting?” Ivan asked.

“A lot actually. Prettiest thing were the crystal fields in the Gemeluna system, which we discovered. It's probably the org's most famous find, and most image captured place in PG.”

“Probably,” Mark said, “I've seen the pictures on several PG sites.” The ice crystals of Gemeluna were behemoths hundreds of meters across, yet still perfectly uniform in lattice structure. Debates over its realism eventually sparked PG's developers to release the system's simulated development conditions and parameters.

“There was this one time the team stumbled on a moon which had its own rocky rings. Moons normally don't have rings, so that was already weird. But just as we thought we'd land and check out its surface, the thing erupted and a huge jet of magma nearly hit us in orbit. We couldn't possibly have escaped any faster.” Regina laughed, staring off into space. “It lasted about two months, but those days were really fun.”

“So I'm guessing they went inactive?” Mark asked.

“The org is still around, but my team lost its gate diver when she had to change jobs. Since the teams were made based on activity times, we weren't able to recruit another gate diver, and we couldn't join the other teams except maybe on weekends. Most of us were only around for an hour or two a day, so it just didn't work out and my teammates ended up leaving. I'm still in contact with them though.”

“Think they'd be interested in joining us?” Ivan asked “We'll also be doing some exploration pretty soon. They'll still have to go through the application process though. With all the applicants, we could probably use a few trustworthy connections.”

“Maybe. We still don't have a gate diver though. Someone who has AI level reflexes is needed if you don't want to flush credits down the toilet. Even the best divers lose a ship every two or three attempts.”

“Nova will handle that,” Ivan said.

“Nova? You mean Nova Streya, your top ranking interceptor pilot?”

“Yeah, I'd say her reflexes are machine-like. Wouldn't you Mark?”

“Yes, a machine-like reflexes and a near psychic level of move reading ability. And she's most excited about exploration in the org as well.”

“Hmm, might work out then. I'll ask the girls and see if they're interested.”

“Wait,” Ivan said, “What is this about girls?”

Oh God, Alf would turn rabid if that happens.

“Huh? What's wrong with my teammates being girls?”

“I realize you haven't actually met anyone else yet, but what do you know about our org so far?” Mark asked.

“You're a small org that focuses specifically on PvP rather than any moneymaking. There was a forum post which complained that your group raided some convoy after they offered you a tribute for passage, only for you to destroy their escort before stealing less value than what they offered.”

“Not bad,” Mark said. “That's not the reason you chose to apply though right?”

“Right. From the leaked Crimson Suns vid, I can guess you're a close knit group who have probably been playing PG together for months. Considering how smoothly flights were reorganized in that battle, you must mix and match your flights all the time, even during combat. I was thinking your members don't really care about ranks or status since you had flight leaders trade places with their wingmen. All the fighter pilots are top class, and your fleet commander, which I just learned is Mark, doesn't really use standard tactics, but has a more fluid approach focused on creating localized advantages.”

“Wow, that's really accurate. All that from watching one video?” Ivan asked.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with my friends?”

“Well, as of today, you'll be the third girl in the org, and our first went inactive. Also we have a certain member who…” Ivan paused. “Lets just say he acts in cringeworthy ways when it comes to girls.”

“Oh.”

“Well it's a good reason to pick up some combat skills and tactics,” Ivan said. “In case you feel like shooting him.”

“Whoa, wait, what?”

“It's an org policy to maintain friendly relations,” Mark said. “If someone crosses the line, shoot them until they apologize.”

“That does sound like something a bunch of guys would think of.”

“Better than the rumor spreading, character assassination, or backstabbing I've seen with disagreements in other orgs and other games. We aren't playing Parallax for the high school drama, so might as well set policies to keep that down.”

You just hate dealing with people who you don't like in a politically correct fashion.

“I see...”

“On that note, why don't we explain the various rules and policies you'll need to know?” Mark said. “We usually do this in game with Ivan plus another officer, but now is as good a time as any.”

Mark and Ivan spent the rest of their lunch hour explaining the various rules and policies of the Temple Wraiths. While rules on behavior boiled down to “don't be an asshole”, policies such as profit sharing and ship replacement following org activities took longer to explain. Though such policies were commonplace in combat orgs, Regina had no experience in these orgs and was surprised both by the org's sixty percent cut of all profits and its covering of ship costs for those lost in action. Soon, their time ran out, and with a quick farewell, they arranged to meet in game.

Five minutes past the Wraiths' typical briefing time, an unusual din pervaded the Temple Wraiths' briefing room. April's introduction to the org brought a burst of excitement from the laid back group. Most of the membership crowded around her as the leadership looked on. Not surprisingly, all the members appreciated even the slightest rebalancing of a combat org's skewed gender ratio.

“I didn't know we were getting another girl!” Jake said. “Why doesn't anyone tell me these things?”

“So you're the one that Sinn toyed with,” Guinea said. “How'd that feel?”

“Don't bother Alf, you have no chance.”

“I HAVEN’T EVEN SAID ANYTHING YET!”

“What brings you to this side of Parallax?”

Once April began receiving offers for private sim tutoring, Sinn clapped his hands twice and called out, “Alright guys, have a seat, we have other business to take care of.”

The conversation simmered down as the Wraiths took their seats. Aero seated himself in an ergonomic plastic seat towards the room's front alongside the other org leaders. Behind them, the once orderly rows of identical seats now clustered around April.

“As you know, we will be having our first domain war tomorrow. The org Innocent Bystanders has requested our services in their offense against a yet to be named neighbor. I'm happy to announce that Myles has done an amazing job negotiating a contract, so be sure to thank him later,” Sinn said. “Up front, we've been paid fifteen million credits.”

“Wait, what? That's nothing,” Jake said. “Our org can get at least twenty mil just by showing up to most other dominion wars.”

“That's not all Jake,” Sinn said. “The final pay will be based on our performance. On top of the upfront payment, they will pay us a fourth of our total credit damages done to their opponent, up to an additional fifty million. That's five zero.”

Jake sat bug-eyed and mouth agape. “Holy crap, that's awesome.”

“How did you get that deal, Myles?” Paws asked.

“You can thank Jazz Anders for his endorsement two days ago,” Myles said, looking back to the others. “Suddenly, orgs are offering millions just to keep us friendly.”

“I still can't believe he actually said that,” Ecks said.

Glee bubbled from Sinn's voice. “We're hitting the sims today. Let's prepare all we can so tomorrow, we can hit whatever org they throw us at for two hundred million in damages.”