Such a pain...


    Rico slouched in his usual seat aboard the Crimson Suns’ command ship. Before him, dozens of screens glowed, providing him with status updates on every ship in his fleet. Long before he knew whether or not the Suns would fight to control Specter, he had drafted battle plans to take on a battlecruiser with the org’s ill-equipped forces.


    <Group three in position. Sector Foxtrot Romeo,> Potter reported.


    “Three in position. Foxtrot Romeo,” Rico’s comms officer repeated.


    <Group two in position. Sector Uniform Golf,> Marshall reported.


    “Two in position. Uniform Golf.”


    Most players in Parallax Gate would think taking on a battlecruiser without a medium or large ship to be suicidal, and that the correct course of action would be to retreat from the system and sell the nav data to an org which could. But the Suns did have a chance, one which Rico saw, though most players would not. That possibility was akin to walking a tightrope, where a stupid mistake would be fatal, but at least in combat the players of his org did not make stupid mistakes.


    But, thanks to Marshall’s inexplicable identification of the most valuable planet yet to be discovered in the game, that narrow chance they had made defending Specter the most rational choice for Rico and the Suns, considering the system’s worth. Thanks to Vince sharing the discovery with the entire org, all of Parallax would soon know of the system, seeking a claim.


    Now, Rico had to coordinate an operation with the objective of sinking a battlecruiser using nothing larger than a frigate.


    <Group five here. Sector Zulu Lima is less defensible than projected,> Fayco reported. <Camping at Zulu November would be better.>


    “Do it,” Rico replied.


    <Roger. Group five to Zulu November.>


    Such a pain...


    Though the rational choice, and with the preparations of his plan in full swing, Rico still didn’t want to walk that tightrope.


    There is an easier way. There is always an easier way.


    In his mind, a more optimal, easier strategy to use in battle always existed. That belief drove him to take one step further when planning his org’s actions and commanding its fleets. Ideas danced in his head. Different positions to take. Different objectives to prioritize. Wild tactics akin to those the Wraiths’ FC used against him. But with the Wraiths'' arrival looming, changing the game plan for an org their size would be more detrimental than beneficial.


    Can we withdraw and reclaim the system with more force?


    Such was his inclination prior to Marshall’s discovery. With his best available strategy, near perfect execution was necessary to defeat the Wraiths. Retreating from the system and returning with greater power was the exact strategy his opponents adopted against him, and could have a greater likelihood of success. But, no number of frigates and single-seat fighters could contest a gate defended by a battlecruiser with station support. The sole method to bolster one’s forces that fast enough was through mercenary contracts, which in turn released the private nav data to the public.


    Form an alliance with someone?


    Countless orgs would leap at the opportunity to claim a habitable system, but few possessed enough strength for an alliance to match the Wraiths. To make matters worse, the only such orgs would never offer him a partnership on equal terms.


    Rico scoffed at the thought. I’d rather join the Wraiths.


    That moment, his thoughts reached a pause. Rico’s brow furrowed. He straightened his lax posture and mulled the idea over. Kill logs showed that the Temple Wraiths engaged the Fortune Divers in the Lucre system as opponents, but the two orgs fought as allies against the Suns in Specter. It appeared, at least, that meeting the Wraiths in combat did not preclude orgs from future alliances.


    There was a chance, Rico concluded. A chance with better odds than his planned defense of the system. If anything, the greatest barrier to such an alliance lay within his own org. He ordered his comms officer to open a channel to his org council.


    “Can we just join them?”


    <hr>


    On the bridge of the frigate Merope, April sat in confusion. Laughter and cheers poured through the comms, while on her main display, Legius pinned Sinn in some form of submission hold. Despite thinking she knew all the Wraith’s quirks, the situation shattered her preconceptions.


    <Ow-ow-ow-ow!> Face down against the floor, Sinn flailed about as the marine, with the weight of all his combat gear, pressed down against his back.


    “Hey, Nova?” April asked. “Can I ask you something?”


    <Yeah?>


    <Where’s the ref!?> Sinn raised head. <Someone throw a flag! There’s no way this is a legal hold!>


    “If Sinn was just going to end up… like this, why did Aero let him command the Prominence?”


    <Um…> Nova tilted her head on the comm screen. <Because Sinn is the org leader?>


    <I yield! Yield!> Sinn tapped at the arm pinned behind his neck.


    A sadistic smile flashed on Legius’s face, and Sinn continued squirming on the floor. <Sorry Sinn, but I’m not done yet.>


    “But Aero’s the FC, right? I mean, everyone knew Sinn would go crazy with the missiles.”


    In many PG orgs, a fleet commander’s decisions on the battlefield took precedence over even that of org leaders. Yet for some reason, Aero allowed Sinn to create an obvious disadvantage in the Wraith’s upcoming battle with the Crimson Suns.


    <But… That’s how we always do things, right?>


    Is it? April paused for a moment. It was true, from her experience, that Sinn had gone wild before. However, the prior incidents with the Phantasm and this action with the Prominence conflicted with Aero’s orders.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    <If I may butt in, April,> Myles appeared on April’s screen. <What do you think is Sinn’s –>


    <FUCK! Pain modulation! Not enough!>


    Suppressing his laughter, Myles continued. <What do you think is Sinn’s job in this org?>


    “He’s the leader. He…” That moment, April realized that despite all her talks and other interactions with Sinn and Aero, she didn’t quite understand what Sinn did as the org leader. “He… holds meetings and makes decisions?”


    <Not easy to put in words, is it?> Myles grinned. <Back when we – oh, we being me and Sinn, decided to start this org, we wanted to create a place where our players could do what they wanted and enjoy doing it, even if it meant doing some things the hard way.


    <As I see it, Sinn’s job is to set the goals and charge forward so that everyone in this org can have as much fun as possible, himself included. It’s my job and Aero’s to figure out how to reach those goals, even if it means – >


    <Argh! You’ve had enough, right? You can let me go now, right?>


    <Even if it means having Sinn serve as a punching bag afterward for the space marines who didn’t get to see action, as you can see.>


    <Hey, Legs,> Aero interrupted the spectacle. <I’m sending you some missiles from the Phantasm’s reserves. When you’re done, have the crew start reloading those pods.>


    <Alright, I guess that’s it for me.> Legius released Sinn from the hold and saluted Aero from the bridge floor. <I’ll have the men get on it, boss.>


    <Speaking of missiles,> Stevie took over the video feed, <I need a number, Legs.>


    <Oh, that thing? One sec.> After stepping over Sinn, Legius looked off the screen. <Hey gunner! Where are our missile reserves at right now?>


    After a muffled reply, Legius grinned. <Really? Hey Stevie! We’re at thirty-two percent reserves, or sixty-eight percent consumption.>


    <Fuck!> Jake groaned. <That’s way less than I thought.>


    <Better than my guess,> Mayto replied. <I thought he’d be empty.>


    <Ha! I knew it!> Still laying on the bridge floor, Sinn rolled onto his back and splayed out with a wide grin. <I knew you guys were betting on that.>


    <Well the question was supposed to be how many marines manage to board the Prominence,> Stevie said, <but nobody would bet more than zero.>


    “Wait. Hold on,” April asked, “you guys were betting on how many missiles Sinn would use up?”


    <Yeah. Did no one tell you April?> Stevie asked. <I sometimes run a pool whenever there’s a planned action.>


    “But, doesn’t that get in the way of winning battles?”


    <Not really.> Stevie shrugged. <It was Sinn’s idea, way back when. Oh, and Aero bet seventy-two percent, in case you were wondering.>


    No, I was not wondering that. April sighed. “Will you guys really be alright?”


    <Don’t worry, April.> Still unmoving, Sinn reassured her. <We’ll still kick those Suns out of Specter for you.>


    <Anyway, I think we all know who won.> Stevie said. <The pool goes to Alf with his bet of sixty-nine percent.>


    <Oh baby. Come to papa.>


    April could only groan. Of course.


    <Alright, we’re done here.> Sinn sat up. <I’m going to hop into my Rattler and join you guys out there in a few minutes.>


    <Hold on, Sinn,> Legius said. <We’re not done here yet.>


    <Huh?> Sinn looked toward the marine captain behind him. <What else was there?>


    <Now it’s my turn.> The second marine, Match, cracked his knuckles and stepped forward.


    <Oh HELL no!>


    Sinn scrambled to his feet, but before he could regain his balance, he was tackled from behind.


    A smile cracked through April’s lips as she turned to her NPC crew with new instructions. But she peeked one last time at the comm screen.


    <Ow-ow-ow-ow!>


    <hr>


    Following a long and uneventful trip, the Wraiths finally reached the Specter system, but when they emerged through Specter’s gate, not a single shot greeted them.


    <There’s no one here?> April asked.


    Myles glanced at his tactical map. “Sensors, get me a full system scan.”


    <Maybe they decided not to fight us over the system,> Mayto said. <Fighting against the Prominence … well, it’s a battlecruiser, you know?>


    It was true that fighting a battlecruiser head on with fighters, bombers, and frigates would guarantee defeat. But the Wraiths knew better than any org the extent skill and tactics could impact the outcome of an engagement.


    <They’re here,> Sinn said. <I can smell it.>


    “Contact” The sensors officer added. “One heavy frigate, Fu-zi class, and two Duvi fighters in orbit over Specter II.”


    <Oh no…> April whispered. <If that’s where they are…>


    “Yeah, they found out. I got a bad feeling about this” Myles read the scan results. But just three ships? If they know about Specter II, where’s the rest of their fleet?


    <Hey, Sinn. Myles.> Aero appeared on the bridge comm screen. <Looks like Rico Santos, the Suns’ leader wants to talk.>


    <Seems interesting,> Sinn replied. <I wonder what he wants.>


    Is there even anything to talk about? Myles sighed. <Fine, but I’m doing the talking.>


    <Okay,> Aero nodded. <I’ll have you guys patched through.>


    Within moments, the image of a sturdy Hispanic man slouched in his command seat appeared on Myles’ main screen.


    <I know what’s in this system,> Rico said. <Fighting here will only cause financial harm both our orgs. Are the Temple Wraiths open to negotiations?>


    Negotiations? Probably just buying time.


    “What do you want?” Myles asked. Under most circumstances in Parallax, negotiations prior to combat did little more than stall for time or allow two fleets to pass by each other in transit. However, Myles knew the Temple Wraiths had enough firepower to steamroll the Suns’ fleet. As the Wraiths’ objective was the system itself, the only negotiation Myles could consider was the Suns’ surrender. “And what are you willing to offer?”


    <A non-aggression pact. We don’t have to fight each other, and the planet is big enough to share between our orgs.>


    Well that is interesting, Myles thought. The offer was fair in its terms, strictly speaking, and both sides would stand to benefit from such a deal. In addition, having the Suns’ combat strength would bolster the system’s defenses beyond what the Wraiths could manage in the short term. However, the offer also ignored reality; exploiting the planet’s full potential far outweighed any potential costs either org would incur through battle. That Rico offered a deal at all said enough about the Suns’ disadvantage.


    “We can easily sink your ships and reclaim our dominion,” Myles voiced his original thoughts. “Without your fleet here, you’re not in a position to negotiate.”


    <You’re wrong. The full strength of the Crimson Suns is already in this system, and even if we can’t win a direct confrontation, we do have the ability to win this battle.>


    The entire fleet is here? Myles glanced back at his map. Where? Sensors didn’t detect any other…


    “Sir,” his communications officer said, “We are receiving infrared scan data from the Phantasm.”


    While the standard sensor array used by fighters and frigates consisted of high-gain passive radar and lidar, larger or more-specialized ships such as the Phantasm and Prominence also carried several complementary instruments in their kits. A new layer of data appeared on Myles’ tactical map.


    A spot glowed white hot at the map’s center, representing the system’s star. In addition, each of the inner planets also lit up. And among the cold, outer asteroid belt, the thermal map showed dozens of red hotspots, revealing the approximate positions of the Suns’ fleet.


    Mayto whistled over their org channel. <That’s a lot of ships.>


    <Jesus… How many are there?> April asked.


    <At least two hundred.>


    If their fleet is entreched among the asteroids, Rico does have a point, Myles thought. While engaging the Suns’ would be more difficult than sinking a frigate with light escort, the Wraiths were already prepared to do so. Hiding in the rocks did not change a ship’s offensive strenth.


    <So do we have a deal?> Rico asked.


    <So if I understand correctly,> Sinn said, <you’re saying that all the Suns’ ships are hiding in the system, ready to engage in guerrilla warfare?>


    <That’s right.> Rico nodded.


    <And your fleet had about two hundred ships?>


    <More than that.>


    <And in order to take Specter, we’ll need to sink each and every one of them?>


    <Yes.>


    Sinn nodded in apparent thought. <I like the sound of that offer.>


    <Wait!> April interjected. <What!?>


    The tension melted from Rico’s face. <Oh good, I knew the Wraith’s would see reason.>


    Of course they’d misunderstand if you phrase it that way. Myles shook his head. <Sorry, Rico. Sinn meant let’s fight it out.>


    <Yup!> With a devilish grin, Sinn proclaimed, <The Temple Wraiths accept your offering of two hundred practice targets.>