When Marshall and his squadron emerged from the gate, a cloud of rock and debris showered their fighters, welcoming the group back into the Specter system. Despite the days since their battle, remains of the Suns’ previous fleet crowded the space around the system’s entrance. With parts from hundreds of fighters and frigates floating around his squadron, Marshall called out. “Hey Potter! Bring that salvager in here and clean up this mess!”

Potter’s face appeared on his display.

Vince asked. Marshall’s wingman took over half the minuscule screen in clear disbelief.

Potter said.

Yeah. Great. Exactly what we’re here to learn. Marshall closed the video comms in favor of a system map. “So where’re we going, Potter?”

“Roger.” Marshall checked his map and confirmed his squadron’s location. He then split the belt into six parts and relayed the coordinates to the group. “You guys heard him. Pick your spots and get to it.”

Vince said,

Having chosen the closest region, Marshall and Vince arrived at their search area within minutes. In perfect sync, their fighters skimmed over the belt, scanning the asteroids for their composition. As readings fed onto the auxiliary cockpit display, Marshall confirmed everything the Suns already knew. This particular region of the belt contained a typical volume of resources, and far fewer than worth defending.

Vince sighed,

“I’m with you, but we… Wait.”

Floating rocks? The phrase gave Marshall pause. He looked at to the asteroids drifting by his canopy. Though disparate in shape, each shared the same gray and cratered surface. That moment, it struck Marshall – Vince’s complaint echoed a months-old conversation deep in his memory.

“There’s… far more… to Parallax exploration… than mapping gates and scanning those floating rocks.”

“Just remembered something a… a friend told me. She is… was in an exploration org. The one that discovered Gemeluna and its ice crystals, actually.”

“Well if it’s not mineral wealth the Wraiths were protecting…” Marshall checked the system map again.Then something on a planet? Potter said nothing was special about the gas giants, so an inner planet?

Marshall turned his Duvi toward the closest inner planet, a purple speck in the distance, and pushed his throttle forward. His seat pressed into his back as the ship raced forward. “Yeah, it might help, actually.”

“Just got a hunch. Finish up here. I’ll let you know if I find something.” Ignoring the further complaints of his wingman, Marshall raced off.

On the bridge of the battlecruiser Prominence, just above the White Steel Gate in the Hephaestus system, Sinn looked over the ship’s specs and schematics with glee on his face. While the ship’s primary armaments specialized in attacking large, less mobile targets such as orbital stations and other capital ships, it had no lack of defensive countermeasures. And though Arms and a Leg’s didn’t manufacture the thirty-two-meter class torpedoes the capital ship used, Mirth did empty his stores of anti-fighter missiles to reload the battlecruiser.

Aero asked.

“I know Aero,” Sinn replied, “but have you seen what his thing is loaded with? I could fly into Specter and kick out those Suns all by myself.”

“Those gate campers. They’re trying to steal the Prominence, right?”

“That means they aren’t going to destroy it. What’s there to worry about?”

“Wait, how come I’m not going first?”

“Fine…” Sinn slumped into the captain's seat.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Aero said.

The comm screen blinked off. Sinn crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “And I thought I was the org leader.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Legius said from the first lieutenant’s post, “presidents don’t call tactical shots either.”

“I know.” Sinn sat up. “Besides, there are far too many rat ships out there for Aero and the guys to clean up before we arrive. I’ll have my chance.”

Legius cracked a smile. “Funny you say that. Half my guys are actually hoping Aero lets some ships through. We never get to play defense outside of sims. Anyway, what’s the plan for us?”

“I thought presidents don’t call tactical shots.”

“They don’t. But you’re not the president.”

“Touché.” Sinn brought his ship’s floorplan onto the tactical display and thought for a moment. But he quickly found the Prominence’s layout favored a single defensive strategy – the very one he and Legius overcame when boarding. “Just keep it simple. Wave and his mobile team parks the buggies outside the magazine. They’ll move around or split up to hit anyone that boards. Put the NPC team in the engine room. Your team guards the bridge. Sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.” After a salute, Legius returned to his post.

With his tasks completed, Sinn returned to reading the ship’s schematics, and joy returned to him within moments. The BHL battlecruisers possessed more firepower than any other class of ship in Parallax Gate, and despite his launching dozens of torpedoes during their prior raid, the few remaining covered all the ship’s potential needs. Having familiarized himself with the Prominence’s many armaments and defensive systems, Sinn prepared a list of weapons to use in the approaching action.

“Sir,” the NPC at the sensor station reported, “the Phantasm is beginning to traverse.”

Sinn glanced at the main display just in time to view the destroyer disappear into the gate. Sinn scanned over the bridge, where eight NPCs awaited his instructions. “Alright, let’s do this. Helm, follow Phantasm at minimum distance. Alert me before emergence.”

“Yes, sir,” the NPC replied. “Spacial stabilizers activated. Three minutes until traversal.”

Huh? Sinn fixated on the unfamiliar term. “Spacial stabilizers? What are those?”

“Sir! Spacial stabilizers maintain the space-time dimensions around the ship during traversal,” the NPC at the engineering station answered. “The ship wouldn’t fit through a gate without them. You can observe their effect while we cross.”

Sinn nodded and looked at the main display. The black hole grew on the screen until it turned entirely black.

“Entering gate, three minutes until we complete traversal,” the helmsman said.

The familiar light-blue spiral then transitioned into view. But this time, the vortex walls stretched around the ship. Though the nav computer still followed the gate’s mapped course, the tunnel walls shifted as if avoiding contact with its hull.

“Cool,” Sinn said, but another thought came to mind. “Then with spacial stabilizers, couldn’t a gate diver map gates without risking their lives?”

“In theory, but no ship attempting that has ever returned. Our best guess is that its impossible to navigate through the inter-gate space. Ships which push through a gate’s walls probably drift aimlessly until they lose power and the space around them collapses, or so the thinking goes.”

Okay, let’s not try that. Sinn shuddered.

“Emergence in thirty seconds,” the navigator reported.

Sinn thanked the NPC at engineering, then turned his attention back to the battle ahead. “Gunner. charge main battery. Transfer firing control to my console. I want the first shot.”

“Yes sir.”

A soft hum resounded through the ship’s hull. Blue and green lights blinked from the positron cannon’s status screen. On his console, Sinn watched the battery’s energy gauge creep upward.

“Emergence in ten seconds.”

Sinn activated the targeting function and switched it to map mode. This is going to be awesome.

“Entering White Steel in five, four, three, two, one….”

Showtime.

“Emergence now.”

The bridge viewscreen turned white before shifting to a battlefield view. On Sinn’s console, the tactical map filled with targets. To his right, the Wraiths’ fleet engaged a cloud of fighters and bombers. Straight ahead, a mob of red fighters and frigates camped above the gate. Sinn found the densest cluster of red markers, picked a random ship at its center, and pulled the trigger.

The ship jolted backward upon firing. Sensors and indicators across its bridge flashed. On the map, Sinn’s line of fire stretched across the display and pierced through the swath of ships. Dozens of enemy markers blinked out of existence as the pirates’ frigates and fighters dissolved against the attack. By Sinn’s estimate, eighty percent of the attacking forces remained.

Myles exclaimed.

Eckos cheered.

Cheers from his orgmates poured through his comms. Sinn jumped from the command seat, basking in his newfound glory. “Hahaha! They’re gonna need far more units if to steal this ship from me!”

With Sinn’s arrival on the battlecruiser, the pirate ships changed course. While some ships remained engaged with the Wraith’s fighters and frigates, most the red contacts piled toward him in an uncoordinated mass. He moved down the list to the next weapons system. “Helm! Forty-five to starboard! Gunner! Prepare plasma cannons! I want a full broadside targeting the enemy horde!”

“Yes sir,” the helmsman said. “Forty-five to starboard.”

“Plasma cannons armed. Standing by,” a second NPC replied.

“Fire!” Sinn held his arms out and looked heavenward, savoring the ship’s might. The bridge rattled under his feet as the secondary guns discharged. On his main screen, twelve streaks of light slashed through the oncoming armada, melting through armor and leaving a trail of flames their wake.

Jake crashed through Sinn’s reverie.

“Step aside then. I can handle this myself.”

“Hey. Sinn.” Legius pointed to the map. “We’ve still got like five dozen boarding craft incoming. I’m going to –”

“Thanks Legius! That’s perfect!” Sinn already knew the next weapons system to try. “Gunner, activate missile pods. Target boarding craft and fire at will.”

“Targeting boarding craft with missile systems,” the NPC repeated, “firing at will.”

Countless arcs of smoke burst from the ship, and each closed on a tiny craft. Unable to maneuver, and with less armor than fighters, the boarding craft disappeared from detection. Sinn jumped up and pumped his fist. “Ha! Weak! Far too weak!”

Aero took over the bridge comm screen.

“Gunners! Hit enemy frigates with plasma cannons! Fire when ready!”

The bridge rumbled as his turrets fired a second time. Each glowing beam found its mark, and with every hit, light burst forth on Sinn’s main display. Within seconds, plasma fire wiped away another dozen hostile frigates.

Enemy ships continued to approach. The mob finally showed some semblance of coordination, with frigates and fighters forming a wall to shield the boarding ships from plasma fire.

“That’s not enough. That’s nowhere near enough!” Sinn laughed. “More missiles, Gunner! Target all boarding craft! Swat those flies out of this space!”

Bypassing the better-shielded ships, a storm of steel rained down on the most fragile boarding craft once again. Each detonation broke a ship into splinters, and when the last missile popped, the would-be pirates lost all means of taking their objective.

“Enemy contacts withdrawing,” the sensor operator reported.

Withdrawing? We’ll see about that. One weapon remained for him to test. The one weapon in his arsenal designed by BHL to carry the full destructive potential of a battlecruiser while still specialized in eliminating even the smallest fighters and bombers. “LOAD FRAGMENTATION TORPEDO!”

“Fragmentation torpedo loaded.”

“YOU FOOLS THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE ME!?”

When unleashed, the torpedo would create a zone of denial, tens of kilometers across, where anything with less shield energy than a frigate would be shredded. With its antimatter rocket engines, the thirty-two-meter device could accelerate far faster than any ship in game. And once detonated ahead of the retreating fighters, it would seal their only path of retreat. Sinn quivered with anticipation.

“PREPARE TO–”

“Wait. What?” Sinn checked the comm screen and found Aero sitting with his face resting on an open palm.

The screen blinked off.

“Will do.” The second voice came both from behind Sinn and through his headset. He turned to find two marines in full gear marching up to his station.

Sinn mashed at his comms panel. “Hold on. Aero. Did you really just – Oof!”

Marshall’s trip took all of five minutes, during which the bright speck ballooned into a massive sphere of red and blue beneath Marshall’s Duvi. He nudged the fighter into a low orbit over the planet and reactivated his prospector module. Water readings spiked, a sign the blue surfaces below were oceans of liquid water, but Marshall found no indication of other valuable minerals.

Water. Not worth pulling from a gravity well. Maybe something else? The prospector module confirmed everything Potter previously reported. The planet’s composition was mostly iron, with significant quantities of iron oxides in the outer crust, reminiscent of the Martian surface. With nothing of note on his sensors, Marshall plotted a course to the next planet.

But just as he prepared to depart, his radar chimed. The instrument had detected a small metallic object near the planet’s horizon.

Curious, Marshall flew his fighter toward the contact. He discovered the signal’s source was an inactive satellite in geostationary orbit, too compact to detect beyond orbit. Though not broadcasting, its radio dish pointed down toward the planet’s surface, as if directing Marshall to a location in the planet’s northern hemisphere.

He glanced at his fuel gauge. While the Duvi fighter was reentry capable, and though landing on the planet’s surface would require little effort, escaping its gravity well would consume half his fuel reserves. But the satellite was the best clue he had encountered, so Marshall was left with little choice. Alright, whatever’s down there better be worth it.

Following the trajectory indicated by the satellite, Marshall turned his ship about and initiated a deorbit burn. With each moment, the planet on the other side of his canopy grew, and the craft soon brushed against the atmosphere. He turned the Duvi again, and its programming automatically angled the fighter’s nose upward. Pressing against the air, Marshall’s entire ship shook, and a vibrant orange glow replaced the view of space from his seat.

After a seeming eternity worrying over his fighter’s structural integrity, the rattling stopped and the light show outside his cockpit subsided. With his ship slowed to subsonic speeds, Marshall activated the atmospheric flight mode and continued his search flying in a red-orange sky.

The search did not last long. Following his planned course, he soon encountered a large, oceanside cliff. At its precipice stood a building bouncing sunlight into his view, and to its side, a radio dish pointed back toward the satellite in orbit. Being his probable destination, Marshall landed his ship, climbed out of his cockpit, and took another look.

It’s… a greenhouse?

Marshall walked up to the entrance. At first glance, it seemed ordinary, but its appearance unsettled him. Then, it dawned on Marshall. Where he expected to see an airlock, he found a single-panel glass door with a pull handle instead. Unlike most of the structures he had seen in the game, both planetside and orbital, this one lacked any indication of being pressurized. Marshall sighed. Looks like someone wasted a bunch of credits on an in-game art project. This has Regina written all over it.

He pulled open the door and stepped into the structure. Inside, rows of artificial trees and flowers lined the glass walls. With the sound of flowing water trickling through his helmet, Marshall strode through the imitation garden. At the structure’s center, a small fountain adorned an apparent break area, where Marshall found a monitoring station with notepads, pens, and a water bottle.

A water bottle?

He picked up the half-empty object. Though a common sight in NPC stations, it’s placement and consumed contents suggested an NPC drank from it at the very place Marshall stood.

That can’t be right…

He looked down at his flightsuit’s belt, where a small device contained the only sensors he had yet to check. Sensors of the suit’s external environment monitor.A row of blue indicators told Marshall the place he stood posed no danger to him. Measurements showed atmospheric pressure, temperature, carbon dioxide, and oxygen all within the limits for human life.

But the greenhouse was not pressurized.

No way…

With trepidation, Marshall reached to his neck and unlatched his helmet from his flight suit. Air hissed through the gap as the suit depressurized. Hands shaking, Marshall lifted the helmet off his head.

The cool, damp air caressed his face as it circulated about the room, welcoming him to sit down and relax. With his first breath, the fragrance of tropical flowers teased him with images of paradise. He walked over to the nearest plant, a flowering bush as tall as his waist, and pulled off a branch.

What he expected to be a plastic copy turned out to be a real, living plant.

No fucking way…

Oceans of liquid water. Human breathable atmosphere. Living plants. That moment, Marshall understood. It wasn’t something on this planet the Wraith’s wanted to defend. It was the planet itself.

As the implications of his discovery set in, a sonic boom shattered the garden’s tranquility. With the greenhouse windows still rattling, Marshall rushed outside to find another Duvi landing beside his own. Within seconds, its canopy opened, and the pilot jumped out.

“What are you doing down here?” Vince rushed up to him. “The Wraiths’ fleet left Hephaestus ten minutes ago! We need to– Holy SHIT! Where is your helmet!?”

“Yeah, we need to tell Rico. Holding this planet is worth fighting BHL and S&B combined.”