Chapter 66 (Patreon)

Chapter 66

This was a different production trailer than the one we’d used for the Maestro’s show, but it was still a rental, according to the frisbee-shaped robot running the thing. The boat was even larger and more well-appointed than Odette’s private production trailer, and I had the sense this one was normally used for dignitaries and non-crawlers. Or maybe it was even a living quarters, as it had a large bed and a very nifty shower facilities. 

There was a tray set out with food, but it clearly wasn’t food from earth. It was little, purple, squiggly worm things, still alive. They smelled like fish. Donut and I decided neither of us were hungry.    

They’d likely rented this place at the last minute since I’d told Zev we didn’t have time to get properly cleaned up. She’d sounded like she was going to cry over the chat when I told her. She’d started lecturing us on how we needed to be ready for our “media relations obligations.”  

The safe room had been a bare-bones version with no food and only a single shower facilities. We’d soaked Donut, and I had Mordecai brushing her as I got ready. Still, by the time we needed to go, Donut’s fur remained heavily matted. The red, mud-like gore clung to her like paint. She needed to get back in the shower again, but we didn’t have time.

So when we transferred to the production trailer, we’d moved to a special one that contained a shower that was straight out of the Jetsons cartoon. The frisbee robot thing’s name was D-0NAH, which Donut immediately translated to “Donna.” Donna told Donut to remove all of her gear—except her tiara of course—and to proceed to the shower. Mongo and I watched as the cat got on a treadmill thing that appeared to have been especially designed for her. It blasted her with water, air, some blue chemical, more water, more air, a robot arm brushed her, and then she got blasted again. 

When she came out the other side, she looked as if she was ready for judging at an international cat show. Her fur glistened. There was no indication that an hour earlier she’d been showered with the exploding gore of a multi-ton, long-dead sea creature boss. I watched as she re-equipped her crupper and the rest of her equipment. Donna ushered her back into the cleaning machine, and this time the mechanism focused on cleaning and polishing her gear. She stepped out, and the metal skirt gleamed. Mongo crept up to her and started sniffing at her suspiciously.     

“Carl, Donna tells me that one may purchase one of these all-purpose cleaners for a personal space. She says they’re expensive, but I think they’re absolutely well-worth it. We need to save our money. Quick, you go in there too. It is luxurious.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” I said.

“Carl, the back of your cloak looks as if it was used as a sanitary napkin. You need to get cleaned.” 

“Crawler Carl, I have been instructed to inform you that you need to avail yourself of the cleaning facilities,” Donna the robot said. “You will be in the presence of royalty on the panel, and not presenting yourself properly is considered an insult.” 

Uh-oh. “Royalty? It’s not that Maestro asshole is it?” 

“Prince Maestro has been stripped of his titles and disowned by his father, so he is no longer considered royalty. But no, it is not anyone of the  Skull Empire. You will receive a rundown of your fellow panelists at the preshow briefing, which will occur in ten minutes. Now please step into the cleaner.” 

“Okay, but I’m not getting naked,” I said. “Just clean the stuff people can see.” 

The robot paused. “Very well,” she said. 

“And then Mongo,” Donut said. “He smells really bad.” 

“Your pet will be required to be stored during the interview.” 

“Excuse me?” Donut said. I stepped into the machine to avoid listening to the ensuing argument. Donna continued talking to me while the treadmill resized itself, instructing me to lift my arms and turn around, but I could see through the plexiglass-like material that Donut was also arguing with the robot. I couldn’t hear what was happening, but I could tell Donut was pissed. 

Like with Odette’s trailer, this facility also had a porthole window. I faced the other direction and stared out at the wide expanse of open sea. Unlike the last two times, it was now light outside, and I could finally see the real world. A pair of silver, trailer-like objects floated in the ocean a couple hundred meters away. They looked like shipping containers, though they bobbed up and down like any regular ship. In the blue sky, a trio of shapes zipped through the air, astonishingly fast. 

I wondered how the other humans were doing, the ones who’d been smart enough not to go into the dungeon. The system had said they’d be left alone if they decided not to participate, but even through this little porthole looking through to some random place in the ocean, I could see that wasn’t true. How many spaceships and other vessels had descended on the planet? Were they really leaving the other humans alone? Or were they being exploited or hunted or enslaved in some other fashion? 

“We came to a compromise,” Donut announced once I stepped out. “Mongo is to be cleaned, but then he’s going into the carrier.” 

I spent the next five minutes watching Donut attempt to talk the dinosaur into walking onto the treadmill. I’d just watched the pet plunge headfirst into a 13-foot-tall undead zombie quilt, but the idea of getting clean appeared to terrify him. Donut finally succeeded by capturing him with the pet carrier and then zapping him back out directly on the contraption. The cleaner turned on, and the giant chicken started shrieking like a piglet being fed into a meat grinder. We could hear him even through the soundproofing of the device. 

“Don’t be a baby,” Donut called. “Mommy is right here!”  

He came out a moment later poofed up and smelling of lavender. He started running in circles around the trailer while Donna clucked after him nervously. 

Finally, Donut zapped him away, and the door at the end of the room opened. We walked in to an empty studio with a large, round table. There was a section for a studio audience, but it was currently empty. Spotlights blazed over us. There was no desk like with Odette’s show, and there was no extra-ornate chair like with the Maestro’s stupid program. There was a simple, glowing sign against the back wall that read Danger Zone with Ripper Wonton. 

One of the chairs had Carl glowing over it, and the one next to it read Princess Donut. We both sat down. Like usual, Donut’s chair raised up into the air. 

“This is so exciting,” Donut said. “I always love going on new shows.” 

“Yeah, the last new one really worked out great,” I said. 

A strange creature appeared, entering the room from a door across the studio. I guessed the creature was a he, but I wasn’t certain. He was humanoid in shape, but absurdly thin. He stood about my height, and was entirely white and hairless. He had oversized, black eyes, like pools of a oil. A ridge grew from between his eyes and up, over his head, like a bony mohawk. He wore simple, white clothes. His entire body glowed. When he walked, he drifted as if his feet didn’t touch the ground. 

Since we were outside the game, he had no name floating over him. He came to hover beside the table. 

“Princess Donut and Carl, welcome to Danger Zone,” he said. His voice sounded like I would expect. Airey and halting, alien-like. He waved at us in greeting, moving languidly. He only had three fingers on each hand. 

“Hello. We are delighted to meet you,” Donut said. “Are you Ripper Wonton?” 

He chuckled softly. “No, Princess. My name is Evo. I am the program’s director. I wanted to greet you two personally before we bring everyone else online. We will be live, not pre-recorded. We have one other Crawler with us tonight, and she has already been briefed.” He indicated an empty chair. “She is sitting there at the moment and can’t see you.” 

“What’s the name of your race?” I asked. 

“Ahh, I am of a people called the Forsoothed. People generally call us Soothers,” Evo said. 

“We had a lot of fiction and movies about aliens, and a lot of them looked similar to you,” I said. 

“Yes, it is interesting,” Evo said. “Your culture showed the Null more than us, but we have seen examples of our people in your historical records and media. I do not know how you latched onto our likeness. It is most likely one of my brethren visited your world in the past. Some of my people are oddsmakers, and they likely visited this planet in the past to get a sample of the human stock in order to make predictions for the crawl. Visiting the planet except for official Syndicate business was illegal, of course, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” 

“So alien abductions were really a thing?” I said. “Imagine that.” 

“What about the probes?” Donut asked. “I remember them talking about the probes on television.” 

“I assume you’re talking about anal probes?” Evo asked. “Yes, we’ve heard about this as well. If that really happened, it was likely done by the Null. You called them the Grays. They are a nasty, unpleasant race. Perverts, all of them.” 

Evo pointed at the chair immediately to my left. A static holographic image appeared. It was of a tentacle-faced woman wearing a crown. “We must move on. Sitting in this chair will be Princess D’nadia of the Prism. She is a race called the Saccathians. People call them Sacs. They are a common race, but D’nadia’s Prism kingdom is rather small. Still, she is a powerful force in certain trade circles and is quite outspoken. She is a regular on this program. She is a fan of you two and specifically asked to sit here.” 

I examined the squid woman. This was just a holographic representation, not the real deal. Her skin appeared gray and covered in bumps. A tangle of squid-like tentacles hung from her cephalopod face, like she was a human-sized Cthulhu. She wore a long, flowing dress, and there was no way to tell what was under it. The whole look kind of freaked me out. 

The next chair was a pudgy, fuzzy brown creature that looked like the child of a wombat/Ewok union. The thing only stood about four feet high, and he didn’t wear any clothes except a fucking orange scarf around his neck like Fred from Scooby Doo. He had two, huge cheeks and giant eyes. He was disgustingly cute. I vaguely remembered that Miss Quill had a beanbag version of this race sitting on her shelf.

“Oh my,” Donut said. “That is positively adorable.” 

“This is your host, Ripper Wonton,” Evo said. “He is a race called a Setonix. People mostly call them Quokkas, though. He will lead the conversation. He is a good-hearted gentleman, despite his strong opinions. He will treat you fairly, but if he disagrees with your positions on anything, he will take you to task.”

The next chair was another female. She was a silver and black Cobra-headed creature. The holograph towered over the table. Her hooded head had to be a meter wide.  

“This is Manasa. She is a famed singer. She’s a Naga, but do not worry,” Evo said. He looked at Donut. “She’s not of the Blood Sultanate, so you won’t have to kill her when you hit the ninth floor. She’s not really a Naga, either. The real Manasa perished long ago, but she contracted with the Valtay Corporation to keep her career going once she died.”

I remembered what Odette had told me about the Valtay system. Their people were little parasites that took over bodies. “So she has a worm in her brain, driving her body?” 

“That is correct,” Evo said. “And her career is hotter than ever. Her latest single is currently ranked 8th in the entire universe.”  

The next chair was a stuffy-looking, middle-aged human named Tucker. A stand-up comedian. I disliked him already, based solely on the stupid grin on his holographic, punchable face. 

Then Evo revealed the last chair, and I immediately recognized the crawler sitting there. Donut gasped.

It was Hekla. The blond-haired Icelandic woman who was now an Amazonian Shield Maiden. She ran the team Brynhild’s Daughters. I’d last seen her just a few nights earlier on the recap episode. Her people had been scattered upon entering the third floor, but she’d mostly regrouped, and they’d taken out an owlbear borough boss. I remembered she had an automatic, magical crossbow that tore everything up. The weapon was like a ranged chainsaw. I couldn’t tell what her stats were now, but two days ago she’d hit level 25, the second Crawler to do so, just hours after Lucia Mar. Hekla’s muscles bulged as she leaned forward in her chair, and I realized this wasn’t a static hologram, but actually her.

“Hi, Hekla!” Donut called across the table. She looked at me. “Carl, look. It’s Hekla!” 

“I can see, Donut,” I said. 

“Hello, Donut,” she said. She looked at me and nodded.

“Is your team holding up okay?” I asked. 

“We are surviving,” she said. The woman held very little emotion in her voice. Her eyes were the color of sapphire. “One of the Daughters is near you. She recognized the circus from the episode and knows you’re in the vicinity. She wants to come back to the team, but I believe we are too far away. She needs some help leveling. Will you assist her? I will take it as a personal favor.” 

“Of course!” Donut said before I could respond. “We’d love to help your friend!” 

Goddamnit Donut. I paused. “Tell her to come to the One-eyed Narwhal tonight,” I said. “In the medium Skyfowl settlement. But just an FYI. We’re in the middle of something dangerous right now, and we won’t be able to slow down to help her. We’ll do what we can.”

“Very well,” Hekla said. A slight smile curled her lip. “Just don’t blow her up.” 

~

“As much as I dislike the Mudskippers,” Tucker the pompous asshat was saying, “I can’t help but feel that the Valtay have overstepped in their push to take over the season. The courts have long upheld the rights of those seeking bankruptcy protection, and I don’t see why that should change.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a comedian?” Donut asked. “When are you going to say something funny?” The audience roared. “See, it’s not that hard.” 

To my left, Princess D’nadia trumpeted with her tentacles, a sound that apparently meant amused agreement. She kept attempting to grasp my hand, though her webbed claws just pushed through my own fingers. Manasa the cobra-headed pop singer also laughed, her forked tongue flipping in and out. 

Tucker sneered. “Well then what is your opinion on the matter, Princess Donut?”

Donut scoffed. “How the heck should I know? I’m a cat!” More laughter. “But I do know this, Butler. One, I know that I don’t know enough about this subject to voice a proper opinion on it. Unlike you, who is obviously talking out of your behind. And two, I know my partner here has a very poor opinion about you. Isn’t that right, Carl?”

“Yup,” I said. “You’re a dipshit.” 

Hekla laughed for the first time since this started. Even Ripper, who was attempting to maintain some impartial façade throughout the program put his head down and pounded on the table, trying not to let the emotion boil over. 

I had no idea if this Tucker guy’s opinion was valid or not, but one of the first things he’d done when the roundtable had started was make a snotty comment about the show lowering their standards by letting a pet sit on the panel. I’d thought he was going to turn it into a light-hearted joke, maybe even turn it around on the host, but the dude was dead serious. The crowd had booed, and he got this self-righteous smirk on his face. Donut did not like that, and she immediately started tearing into the guy. She was in rare form. At first I was worried about her taking on a comedian, but she had the guy against the ropes almost immediately, and he was too dumb to realize he’d already lost      

“You know my name isn’t Butler. You’re just trying to make me angry.”

Donut looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Carl, you told me his name was Butler.” 

“It’s Tucker,” I said.  

“Tucker? Are you sure?” 

Next to me, I thought Princess D’nadia was having a stroke, she was laughing so hard. It was clear she also disliked this Tucker guy. 

Tucker threw his hands up in the air. “Can we move on please? I came on this show because we’re supposed to be talking about important matters.” 

“Oh, Darling,” Donut said, shaking her head. “Bless your heart.” 

After the audience died down, there was a short segment regarding multiple intergalactic affairs that neither I, Donut, nor Hekla had much input on. For most of it, I had no idea what they were talking about. Some solar system had been invaded by another system. A race of people applied for council membership in the Syndicate. It was mostly stuff like that. Even the audience seemed bored with the piece. 

The issue Tucker had been opining about regarded the Valtay Corporation and their attempt to collect their debt from the Borant System. All three of us crawlers were smart enough not to say anything stupid about either Borant or the Valtay, in case they did end up taking over the Crawl, which appeared to be highly unlikely. Manasa—for obvious reasons—was on the side of the Valtay. Ripper and Princess D’nadia seemed to think both sides were dicks, but also sided with the Valtay. Tucker was mostly on the side of the Kua-tin.

Ripper moved the discussion to the Skull Empire. There was unrest in a few of their home systems, partially because of the whole embarrassment with the Pork Boy Snick. People were comparing the  Skull Empire  to the hedonistic Orcish Supremacy of the Tusklings, and new calls for democratic reform were popping up in their systems. People took issue with the royal family spending so much time and money playing around with the crawl and the Faction War Games, while neglecting their duties back home. King Rust had responded by disowning the Maestro and telling his people to shut the hell up. Ripper looked directly at me and asked me what I thought about it. 

I took a moment to formulate my response. I’d been anticipating a question about this subject, and I’d been mentally preparing my answer. All it takes is a little seed. I reached over and put my hand on Donut. 

“I don’t have all the details, of course. All I really know is what you’ve presented today and how that ass Prince Maestro…” 

“Former Prince Maestro,” Donut corrected. 

“How former Prince Maestro acted. If his dad, this King Rust guy treats his people like his son treats guests on his show, then they should rebel. On Earth, we had this fable. Basically, the story goes if you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, he’ll jump right out. But if you stick that same frog in the water when it’s at room temperature, he’ll just sit there. He won’t move because everything’s fine in the water. Then you put the pot on the heat. The temperature goes up, and still the frog doesn’t jump because it’s only a degree hotter than before. Eventually, the frog dies, boiled alive. When the frog was thrown in the boiling water, he immediately knew he was in danger. But because of the incrementalism of the heat from room temperature, he didn’t realize he was in danger until it was too late.” 

“That’s a really stupid metaphor,” Tucker began. 

“Stop,” Ripper said, holding up a furry paw. “Let him finish.” 

“So, I don’t really know what’s going on with their systems. I’m just a guy from a planet that thought we might be all alone. We got thrown right in and had the lid slammed on us, so Donut and I, and Hekla, we don’t have much of a say in what’s happening to us. But I’m guessing it’s different for the people who live under the Skull Empire. If it used to be okay, but it’s not okay anymore, then maybe you should do something about it. Don’t compare your circumstances with how they were yesterday. Look at how they were years ago. We’re supposed to be making the world… the universe… a better place for our children. If it’s not better, if you’re dealing with cruelty, with neglect, then you should do something about it. So, yeah. Fuck ‘em. Fuck King Rust and his asshole child. If you’re unhappy with your government, then kick them out and set up your own, one that represents the people’s best interests. You shouldn’t have to put up with some loser who’s going to take the people’s money and waste it on games, especially when those games entail killing people weaker than him with little or no real danger to himself. What a pussy. That’s my opinion.” 

Nobody said anything for several moments. 

“You probably don’t know this,” Tucker said, a hint of triumph in his voice. “But openly using tunnels to advocate for system sedition against a member state is a crime.” 

“If that’s true,” I said, “then you’re all in that same pot.” I turned to look at the audience. “All of you. If a government is afraid of what its people say, then maybe there’s a reason for it.” 

“Besides,” I added. “What are they gonna do? Throw me in the dungeon?” 

Next to me, Princess D’nadia started clapping and making trumpet noises with her tentacles. Hekla, who’d barely said anything this entire time, was looking directly at me. I couldn’t read her expression. 

Underneath my hand, Donut trembled as the audience roared their approval. 

But, it wasn’t everyone I noted. Some of the people—most of the people—cheered. But not all. Those who didn’t appeared uncomfortable. Some looked annoyed. That was okay. Baby steps. That frog metaphor worked both ways. 

“Well,” Ripper said. “They told me you two tend to leave a path of scorched earth wherever you...” 

In front of me, Manasa the cobra blinked in and out of existence, and then she disappeared. The entire studio bucked, and Donut and I both fell back out of our chairs. The lights flickered as Donut cried out. I hit the floor, and my HUD, which had been off since we’d arrived in the production trailer turned on. 

“Carl, Carl, I’m going to be sick.”  

The trailer continued to rock. The sea, which had been dead calm, now roiled. 

The studio was gone, and all that remained were our two chairs and a half table. Donna the robot entered the room. “Please remain calm. The system will be restored in fifteen seconds.” 

Zev: Oh my gods, are you two okay?

Carl: What the hell is going on? 

The HUD snapped away, and the studio returned as the boat started to settle. Ripper, Princess D’nadia, and Tucker remained in their chairs. Ripper talked animatedly with someone we couldn’t see. Hekla stood behind her seat, and I suspected she had also been knocked out of her chair, which meant her trailer was probably floating nearby. She hesitantly sat back down. Manasa did not return. 

“Are you injured?” Princess D’nadia whispered to me. 

“We’re fine. The trailer started pitching. What happened?” 

“They’re saying there was an attack on Manasa’s trailer. She’s vacationing on Earth, and she’d ascended to participate in the interview. They say her trailer got hit with a pulse. That’s all I know.”

“What about you, are you okay?” I asked Hekla. 

“Yes,” she said. “I am fine.” 

“Yeah, us too,” I said. 

“I threw up,” Donut said, looking up at me. She had puke all down the front of her face. I used the thick fabric from my Nightgaunt cloak to clean off her fur the best I could.  

“Are you kidding? Are you kidding me?” Ripper said to his invisible assistant. “Let me see the statement.” He turned and looked at me and Donut. The furry host opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but then he changed his mind.

Instead, he turned to his audience. “Ladies and gentleman, I’m sorry about that. Something just happened on Earth’s surface, and we’re still gathering information. Manasa has lost her signal, so I’m afraid we won’t have her back. Stay tunneled, and we’ll get you information straight away. In the meantime, let’s go straight into the Danger Zone.” 

Nothing happened for a moment, and then suddenly a female owl creature stood at the end of the table. She’d appeared out of nowhere.

“Hi,” the owl said. “I have a question for Hekla. Why did you leave your husband to fend for himself when you both entered the dungeon? And do you regret it?” 

Hekla appeared stricken by the question. The abrupt change of subject with everything happening around us seemed so sudden, so out of place that it was almost absurd. Apparently they called the Q&A section of the program, “The Danger Zone.” Behind us, Ripper had disappeared. Tucker was turned all the way around in his seat, talking quietly with someone off screen. Next to me, Princess D’nadia had her head cocked to the side and was also listening to something or someone hidden.

“I,” Hekla said, stammering “I… He left me. He didn’t leave me a choice. He was going to get us both killed. Now he’s dead, and I’m not.” 

“And do you regret it?” the owl repeated.  

“Of course I do,” she said. 

“Thank you,” the owl said. She disappeared and was replaced by a male orc.

“I am Rolf,” the orc said. “This question is for Carl. What is your most enjoyable way to kill?”

“That’s kind of a fucked up question,” I said. “I don’t like killing.”

“No?” Rolf said. “But you kill good.” 

“He does, doesn’t he?” said Donut. 

“I guess I like it when it’s simple, clean,” I said. “A quick punch, breaking their neck.” 

Rolf made a fist in the air. “This is good. Thank you.” 

The next question was about Hekla’s crossbow. The one after that was a fish creature that looked like a human-sized Kua-tin. I think Odette had called them Gleeners. She looked directly at Donut. 

“Princess, who is Ferdinand?”

Several people in the audience clapped at the question. 

Donut tensed, but then she relaxed. “Oh Darling, I just love that outfit you’re wearing. It’s so pretty. But you are right to ask. This secret has festered for far too long, and I suppose it’s time for the universe to know the truth.” She sighed dramatically. “Ferdinand is the love of my life. But we’ve had a tragic courtship. He visited me often at night. We’d gaze upon each other across the wide expanse, and we both knew it was a love that couldn’t be. For he was hunted by the authorities. In royal circles, he was reviled, branded as a ‘Moggie,’ a non-pedigreed cat. It is why I’d jumped out the window that night. I could sense him out there, calling to me.” 

“Wait,” I said. “Are you talking about that creepy, yellow cat that would come to the window when you were in heat?” 

“Yes I am, Carl,” Donut said. “I imagine it’s time you learned of my secret affair. A princess and a ruffian. It wasn’t meant to be, but our love was pure.”  

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “His name wasn’t Ferdinand. His name was Gravy Boat. He belonged to Marjory on the first floor.” 

The cat had also knocked up every female cat within three square blocks. Bea had called animal control on him twice, but they’d never been able to find or catch him. Bea had gotten into a screaming fight with Marjory over it, though I was never really clear on the reasons why Bea had cared so much. Gravy Boat sitting in that tree outside our window wasn’t nearly as annoying as Donut yowling while she was in heat. 

“He preferred Ferdinand,” said Donut. 

The Gleener disappeared and was replaced by an elf-like creature wearing a top hat. 

“Hello,” the elf said. “My name is Chappy. My question is also for Donut. “If Bea is alive, and she shows up, are you really going to leave Carl for her?” 

A chill washed over me. I looked sharply at Donut, who had in turn looked back up at me, a look of confusion on her face. 

“When we reunite with Miss Beatrice, we will all work together. It will be like before.” 

Chappy seemed perplexed by her answer. “Surely you don’t think Carl will want to stay with her.” He turned his gaze to me. “Carl?” 

This was a situation that was never going to manifest itself because the odds of Bea being anything but dead were astronomical. And if she wasn’t dead by some miracle, one of these talk shows would’ve dug her up by now. Nevertheless, it was a conversation I still needed to have with Donut. But I wouldn’t be having it on live television. Fuck that. I mumbled, “We’ll cross that bridge when…” 

“I’m sorry to interrupt folks,” Ripper said, his voice quavering. I could tell he was angry, and he was barely holding it in. “But we have some breaking news to share. As you all saw, our program was interrupted. We now have verification that this was because of a senseless pulse attack on a production asset housing our friend and frequent guest Manasa. I am sorry to say, it appears she has perished in the attack.” Gasps and cries of surprise and astonishment filled the audience. Ripper lifted his paw to calm them down. Next to me, Princess D’nadia wept. Black oil cascaded down the front of her cephalopod face. “But there’s more. In a tragic twist to this story, it is apparent she was not the target of the attack. Simultaneous with the pulse…” Ripper paused, unsuccessfully attempting to compose himself. His anger bubbled over into his voice. “…Prince Stalwart of the  Skull Empire  released the following statement.” 

A screen appeared. The coarse-haired, wild boar creature sat behind a desk. Prince Stalwart, crown prince of the  Skull Empire  looked very much like his disgraced younger brother. While the Maestro had been overly muscular, Stalwart was more lean, but he still exuded power and strength. And cruelty. Even before he spoke, I could see it in his pig eyes.

Over the orc’s shoulder was a window overlooking a large, green field that spread into the far distance. The dots of hundreds of soldiers marching in formation appeared down below. The camera was angled to view the field perfectly. 

He’s on the ninth floor right now, I thought. He’s setting up the faction wars segment of the game.   

“Citizens of the Syndicate. By the time this message hits the tunnel, the earth creatures Carl and Donut will have been executed by a pulse fired from my personal yacht. The Skull Empire will pay for any damages to any private property destroyed in the attack. We are claiming, under the Syndicate rules regarding independent system sovereignty that this summary execution is both justified and appropriate given Carl’s statements advocating sedition. That is all.” The message snapped off. 

“That was quick,” Donut muttered. 

“You can say that again,” I said. The attack had come barely two minutes after I’d spoken out.  

“They hit the wrong trailer,” Tucker said. He looked at us. His earlier snootiness was gone. He sounded in shock. “It was meant for you.”  

“Manasa had switched trailers,” Princess D’nadia said. “They said you needed cleaning facilities, and she offered to trade.” The princess could barely speak, she was so upset. “She was my friend. For countless years, she’d been my friend. Even though she was a worm head, we’d been close for so long.” She turned to the audience and cleared her voice. She sat up straighter in her chair. “The Prism Kingdom officially condemns this action by the Skull Empire, and we will be filing an immediate grievance with the Syndicate Court.”  

“The Valtay and the Skull Empire are strong allies,” Tucker said. “Surely they’ll see this as a tragic accident.”

“Do you know how much money Manasa brings in for the Valtay each year?” Ripper said. “Those idiots. Stupid, stupid. She was a treasure. People think their technological sector brings in the most, but that’s not true. Not even close. It’s their entertainment assets. They just murdered her.”  

I felt a sudden wave of anger wash over me. Now you’re outraged? When it was your friend? The cognitive dissonance was just overwhelming. I didn’t dare say it out loud. But what the hell? They destroyed us, destroyed our planet. And one poorly-shot missile or whatever the hell it was, and suddenly it’s a tragedy. Fuck you. Fuck you all.  

“Carl,” Donut said, concern to her voice. “Carl, if they know they hit the wrong trailer will they shoot at us again? Maybe we should go.” 

Ripper looked at us, and waved at us to keep sitting. “It’s okay. You’re okay. This just in. I am getting word now. The Valtay are claiming one of their dreadnaughts in earth orbit has destroyed Prince Stalwart’s yacht. Again, the Valtay are claiming to have destroyed a Skull Empire royal vessel. From the message, it is clear Stalwart was not on board at the time, but it is rumored that both Queen Consort Ugloo and former prince Maestro were on board.” 

“So much for their alliance,” Tucker said. “That weakens Valtay’s position on the bankruptcy action.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker,” Princess D’nadia said. “By the gods, our friend has been murdered.” 

“Wait, did he say the Maestro is dead?” said Donut. “Carl, did you hear that?”

“I heard, Donut.”  

As Ripper continued to breathlessly repeat everything that had happened, I met eyes with Hekla, who continued to sit quietly across the table, a rock in the storm. She studied me curiously.  

“Is this how it always is with you two, then?” she asked. “What was it he said? Scorched earth?” 

I nodded. I put my hand on Donut. 

“With a little bit of chaos thrown in,” I said.