In the lecture hall, two hundred students packed the seats, fervently working through the exam on their tablets. The setting had long become familiar to Mark. As usual, only the taps of styli against screens kept the silence at bay. In typical fashion, Mr. Finishes-too-quickly, as Ivan began calling him, stood from his seat and walked forward to return his tablet, announcing to the whole exam hall that the exam period reached its midway point.

Already!?

Yet somehow, Mark’s personal circumstances were foreign to him. He stared at the tablet screen, not quite remembering the exact form of the torque equation. Twenty-five minutes remained for him to complete the exam, yet he had not completed the second of four problems. To make matters worse, Dr. Macklin’s classic exam nightmare problem remained untouched.

Mark shook his head. Calm down Mark. You know this.

Once he settled on an equation that felt familiar, Mark filled in the values given for mass and velocity to determine the force, and then applied the relevant angles provided by the problem. Finally, he pushed through the calculations.

Another classmate stood from his seat. With another two increasingly difficult problems to finish, twenty-one minutes remained.

Fuck, that's not enough time. Partial credit. Easy points first.

To the students’ benefit, Dr. Macklin awarded partial credit for incorrect or incomplete answers which displayed a conceptual understanding of the problems given in the exam. As working through the math took more time than showing the correct concepts, the fastest points in the exams required correctly drawn diagrams and the written equations.

Mark moved to the next question, leaving the second problem unfinished. On the screen, an orbital mechanics scenario greeted Mark, its familiar format bringing some momentary relief. Once Mark read the words, he sketched the orbital diagram without hesitation and scrawled out the formula for gravitational force and orbital velocity.

Another desk clattered from Mark’s right. Without a word, one more classmate reported they finished the exam.

Ignore the others, Mark thought to himself. Focus on the exam in front of you.

With all the diagrams and equations input, Mark skipped to the last problem without touching any math. On the next screen was Macklin’s Nightmare, as expected. However, the complexity of the problem went a level beyond the prior two exams, with component concepts involving both linear and angular momentum as well as friction.

What the hell? Are people actually finishing this problem? Gritting his teeth, Mark drew a force diagram depicting the problem’s scenario into the exam tablet. With each subsequent part, he wrote out every relevant formula in memory and began the initial substitution steps. The moment he got stuck, he jumped to the next sub-problem and repeated the process.

Mark glanced at the time. Twelve minutes left.

With a partial response written for every question on the exam, he returned to the second question, where he first shifted strategies. With all the math already set up, Mark faced an exercise in pure computation. He tuned out the clatter of students shuffling down the stairs and crunched through the calculus. The second problem’s final answer revealed itself, and Mark flipped back to the third problem.

Nine minutes remained.

Come on, you’ve studied this. The calculus of orbital mechanics flowed from hand to screen. The solution for each sub-problem became the inputs for the next. As the clock ticked, Mark raced through the third question. Being the exam topic he was most comfortable with, Mark reached the solutions faster with the third problem than either of the two previous ones.

Without time to check his answers, Mark flipped to the Nightmare once more. Despite its complexity, the diagrams and equations reduced Dr. Macklin’s scenario down to its fundamental parts and made the whole manageable. Only the sheer volume of calculus stood between Mark and the exam’s completion. As if on instinct, his stylus flew to the first sub-problem of five. Mark wrote the mass and velocity of the sliding block into the equation he had input alongside the coefficient of friction. The answer emerged after two steps.

Mark wrote that answer into the next sub-problem. He began the following integration steps.

Then, the tablet stopped responding to his inputs.

Damn it! Mark suppressed his urge to punch the device.

A message popped onto the screen saying, ‘Time expired.’ With the allowed time over, the tablet automatically began the exam submission process. The hall, which remained in near silence for a full fifty minutes, erupted with groans and chatter as students stood from their seats and discussed the exam with their neighbors.

'Exam Score: 72%, Current Course Grade: A-', the tablet reported.

Mark clenched his fist around the stylus and stared at the result. It was a terrible performance, but the high grades he received on prior exams and perfect scores he achieved on his homework problem sets had provided enough leeway to keep his grade from sliding into the B’s. With a sigh, Mark joined the mass of students in a queue which reached halfway up the lecture hall’s center aisle.

A few minutes later, outside the lecture hall, Mark found Ivan leaned against the wall, staring at his phone with a gleeful grin on his face.

“Seventy-two,” Mark groaned. “I took too much time with the first two questions. I’m guessing you did better?”

“Not by much. Seventy-six.” Ivan shrugged as the two turned toward the building’s exit.

“Is that something to be happy about?”

“No,” Ivan laughed, showing Mark his phone, “but this is.”

The screen displayed the PGN website, with its headline announcing, “TEMPLE WRAITHS STEAL BHL BATTLECRUISER!”

“Of course.” Mark’s head dropped. I should have known it was something like that.

“Really? I thought you’d be happier.”

“Maybe if it didn’t cost so much study time.”

“Funny you mention that,” Ivan chuckled. “You know Anise, right?”

Anise? Mark thought for a moment. “Oh, the girl you dated for three days. The one who usually sits up front?”

“That’s what you remember?” Ivan’s jaw dropped. “Anyway, I caught up with her a bit while I was waiting for you. She wants to start a study group and invited the two of us. What do you think?”

Mark thought for a moment. While he had managed his studies well enough until the physics exam that day, the fact remained that his future course load would increase in difficulty. As forming study groups was the most common advice of upperclassmen and MIT alumni alike, his optimal choice was readily apparent. “Sure, I’m in.”

“A business proposition!? You bring an existential crisis to my org and say you have a business proposition!?” Contrary to his name, Mirth Gaiet seethed with fury. Outside his office viewport, the stolen BHL battlecruiser Prominence overshadowed Arms and a Leg’s main shipyard, dwarfing even the largest industrial ships his org produced. On his desktop lay an ultimatum from Lyrical Jacen, military chief of Black Hole Legion, threatening the invasion of Hephaestus and the destruction of Mirth’s org if he continued to shelter the Temple Wraiths. Further complicating matters, Stevie Mentz and Myles Samson of those very same Temple Wraiths, his longtime customers, now sat in his office saying they had a business proposal.

“Calm down Mirth,” Stevie said. “You personally gave the authorization for all Temple Wraiths’ ships to travel and stay in Hephaestus. We traded you the Phantasm’s schematics–”

“Well tha’ was before you went and pissed off the second rank power in the game!” Mirth stood over his desk and pointed out the viewport. “Anybody’s tha’s anybody already knows that thing is here!”

Thanks to the Wraith’s consideration, or lack thereof, the Prominence lay in full view of Mirth's customers, which numbered in the hundreds at any given time. Despite his space traffic control and security forces directing all customer ships away from the undesired attraction, dozens of images portraying the capital ship already reached the Parallax public before Mirth learned of its presence.

Mirth pointed to the two Wraiths. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’ order my men to seize tha’ battlecruiser and give her back to BHL!”

“Sure,” Myles tossed a data card onto the desk. “Take a look at this.”

Taken aback by the confidence, Mirth opened the files the card. Inside he found images of a planet with liquid oceans and rust-colored rock. “What’s this?”

“That, is Specter II.” Myles brought another file to his attention, showing the planet’s orbital data, atmospheric composition, and weather data. “A habitable planet. No terraforming required. The total living area on that rock beats S&B’s dominion by orders of magnitude.”

For real? I thought we were lucky for discoverin’ Hephaestus. Mirth’s anger dissipated with the shock of the revelation. His instincts screamed of a profit opportunity.

“The Suns currently hold the system,” Myles said, “but we have a chance to kick them out before they get a close look.”

“Sure, that’s why you need the battlecruiser.” The information may have surprised Mirth, but it didn’t affect his dilemma. “Excep’ it doesn’ give me anything for being on BHL’s crap list.”

“Right.” Myles grinned. “Specter’s nav data will be public within days, if it hasn’t leaked from the Suns already. Once we take Specter back, we must develop a dominion fast enough that defending against BHL is possible. Only way the to do that is to gather an alliance of friendly orgs and share the spoils. We’re offering you a seat at the table, Mirth. All you need to do is invest in the system and participate in its defense.”

Temptin’. If such a planet existed in Hephaestus, it would’ve supplanted the need for eighty percent of A&L’s research stations and eliminated the marginal cost of hiring additional staff. Expanding his org onto the planet would allow his org to support a far larger NPC staff at a fraction of the cost. On the other hand…

“I can’ throw away the neutrality of my org.” Mirth shook his head. The fact that A&L and most other production orgs remained neutral in dominion politics and sold their products to anyone with the cash protected them from the aggression of stronger orgs. Not only did dominion holders supplement their own ship manufacturing through neutral production orgs, but attacking one was also a surefire way to piss off hundreds of small orgs which lacked their own manufacturing plants.

“Your participation doesn’t have to be public,” Stevie chimed in. “The existence of shell orgs are as old as PG itself. Set up subsidiaries specialized for private security or R&D or something.”

Really temptin’. Mirth assessed the benefits A&L stood to gain. The org already held the largest share of the high-performance market among the production orgs, and expanding to a habitable planet as the Wraiths proposed could easily lead to market dominance thanks to the cheaper tech development. Furthermore, Hephaestus had developed to the point where Mirth wanted to expand beyond it. However, his biggest problem still remained. “Even if I joined, I’d still need to do somethin’ for BHL.”

“For BHL...” Miles paused for a moment. “BHL won’t do anything if you behave like you’re still neutral. We’ll be retaking Specter in a few hours. When we leave, you tell BHL that the Temple Wraiths aren't your customers anymore and that you’ve banned us from Hephaestus. They might not like it, but attacking Hephaestus becomes more trouble than it’s worth after that.”

Risky, but this migh’ work. Mirth finally sat into his chair. All things considered, A&L stood to benefit from the Wraith’s offer. Under normal circumstances, he’d have accepted that instant. But the Wraiths put A&L under unusual circumstances. “All this only matters if you take that system back. With the position you stuck me in against BHL, I need some compensation in case it all falls apart.”

“How about the schematics of the Prominence?” Stevie pulled a data card from his pocket and laid it on Mirth’s desk. He then tossed two more data cards onto the first. “We also have design data on BHL’s destroyers and generator ships, courtesy of Sid Griffen.”

“Hahaha!” Mirth couldn’t help but laugh. Production orgs valued schematics and trade secrets of other orgs far more than material resources. Acquiring such data accelerated building capabilities far beyond the rate achieved by internal research and development. Though A&L didn’t have the shipyards to build a capital ship, possessing schematics to one would jumpstart a construction program by several weeks. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’ve actually got yourself a deal.”

News of the battlecruiser’s capture reached Rico and the Crimson Suns long before it reached the Parallax community at large. A custom script Marshall wrote using the game’s API alerted him, along with all his officers, of any action involving their enemies the moment data reached the killboards. Thus,within minutes of the alert, Rico personally purchased four dozen prospector modules for their Duvi fighters at exorbitant prices and ordered an equipped squadron into each the four private systems explored by the Temple Wraiths.

After a full night of surveys, four sparks met Rico in the Suns’ conference room. Rico’s spark bobbed in the group’s center as Potter gave the last scouting report on the private systems.

“So as you all know, Spectre is a terminus system.” The orange spark brightened. “But that’s about it. One gate, two asteroid belts, three outer gas giants, and two inner rocky planets.”

“What’s in those belts?”

“Standard distribution of metals, mostly. Nice volume of heavy metals, and decent volume of organics. It’s enough for a small ship factory, but not much else. Oh, we found a mobile gas production facility the Temps left behind.”

Gas production facility? Then they really set up in Specter, not Lucre. Rico’s spark brightened as it tumbled in space. “What about the planets?”

“Nothing special. The gas giants are suitable for gas extraction… like every other gas giant in game,” Potter sighed. “We detected water on the second rocky planet, but it’s not worth pulling from a gravity well when there’s so much more in the asteroids.”

“In other words, you guys found nothing?” Disappointment bled through Rico’s voice. We’ve overlooked something. Something worth fighting over in that system.

“The Lucre system isn’t nothing,” Marshall replied. “My squad found a lot of rare earth deposits, and tons of organics. It’s not Hephaestus, but it deserves the name.”

“Do I really have to spell things out for you?” Rico suppressed a groan. One in eight systems possessed the mineral deposits Marshall reported. In contrast, the treasure trove at Hephaestus catapulted Arms and a Leg to its dominant status as a production org remained legendary and unmatched in PG history, despite the efforts of countless prospectors. “Would you risk a destroyer to defend Lucre? Plus all those other ships?”

“Well… no, I wouldn’t.”

“But the Wraiths did. There’s something valuable enough that they would risk their whole fleet. They knew we were coming, if you need reminding. They could’ve easily ran…” Rico paused, letting the silence hang over his officers. “But they didn’t. So now I have to know if it’s worth fighting that fucking battlecruiser to keep.”

“So we keep searching?” Potter asked.

“Obviously.” Rico’s giant red spark dimmed as it rolled in space. “Whatever it is, it’s in Specter. Have our prospector teams search Specter again.”