We had a deal to celebrate. And so, for dinner, the four of us gathered in the guest suite: me, Rosalia, Cornelius, and Seraphine. Good food and wine that flowed freely.

  Seraphine was more relaxed than I'd ever seen her. Still formal, still precise, but the ice had genuinely thawed. Laughter came easily. Even Rosalia seemed to be enjoying herself.

  "Before we begin," Seraphine said, raising her glass, "I have news for you. About your pirate engagement."

  I straightened, suddenly alert.

  "The self-destruct protocols on their ships and bases were very effective. Destroyed anything useful we might have recovered." She paused. "But the ships you destroyed are a different story. Your kills didn't have time for self-destruct. Black boxes and ship parts can be salvaged."

  "Okay..."

  "There were bounties on those pirates. Significant ones. And while you're not registered mercenary guild members, meaning we have no legal obligation to pay, the admiralty has agreed to compensate you anyway." A slight smile. "Recognition of your contribution to the operation."

  She slid a datapad across the table. I looked at the numbers.

  "Between five and twelve thousand credits per confirmed kill, depending on individual bounty levels. Plus a bonus of twenty thousand for usable black boxes and to compensate for denied salvage rights." She met my eyes. "Total: ninety-four thousand credits."

  I stared at the figure.

  Ninety-four thousand credits. Real money. My first actual earnings in this universe.

  "Is that..." I looked at Rosalia, not sure how to ask.

  Her expression had gone very still. "A skilled technician earns perhaps that much in a year." She looked at Seraphine. "This is very generous."

  Seraphine shrugged elegantly. "You earned it. The admiralty agreed."

  "You are softening us up." Rosalia's tone was knowing. "Preparing us for whatever demands come next."

  "No demands." Seraphine smiled and shrugged. "Whatever deal you made with my father, the admiralty is really happy. Take it as a show of gratitude."

  The words hung in the air. Friendly, but honest. Rosalia accepted this with a slight nod. The game was understood.

  Conversation turned to the cover story. Seraphine asked a few questions, but her tone was curious rather than suspicious. She accepted the Church of Enlightened Knowledge explanation readily, almost eagerly.

  "It would explain a great deal," she said. "The Church of Enlightened Knowledge has a reputation for pushing boundaries. Sometimes too far. A stolen prototype, a test subject who escaped... yes, that fits the pattern perfectly."

  There was something in her voice, though. Was it relief? Or Satisfaction? I couldn't quite place it. But the story was accepted. And that was all that mattered.

  "I've also received new orders," Seraphine continued. "I'm to accompany you to Hyperion Deep with a small escort. The station will be examined; I'll oversee the naval contingent."

  Cornelius seized the opportunity. "In that case, I'd like to offer my services for the journey. The Navy engineers will be examining the Mahkkra, but the Reizen also needs repair. I could assist with that."

  I blinked at him. "You?"

  "I was a Navy mechanic before I took holy orders." He smiled at my surprise. "Twenty years in engineering bays before I found my calling. Some skills never fade."

  A mechanic turned priest. Another layer to the man.

  Seraphine mentioned she'd finally solved the mystery of how the pirates had evaded her detection probes. "Still compiling my report," she deflected when I asked for details. "But I'm satisfied with the answer."

  The conversation drifted to lighter topics. Academy stories from Seraphine. They were carefully edited, nothing too personal, but enough to show she was letting her guard down. Cornelius sharing tales from his mechanicing days. Even Rosalia offered a few anecdotes from her diplomatic training.

  As the evening wound down, Seraphine excused herself. She had duties in the morning. At the door, she paused.

  For just a moment, her eyes met mine. Something flickered there. Gone before I could identify it.

  Then she smiled before wishing us goodnight. A real smile, not the captain's mask.

  The door closed behind her.

  "That went well," Cornelius said, reaching for the last of the wine.

  "It did," Rosalia agreed. "Better than I expected."

  I nodded, but something nagged at the back of my mind. That moment at the door. That flicker in Seraphine's eyes.

  Probably nothing. She'd been nothing but friendly all evening. Warmer than I'd ever seen her.

  So why did I feel like I was missing something?

  I shook the thought off and finished my wine. Whatever was going on with Seraphine, I'd figure it out eventually. For now, we had a deal, we had protection, and we had ninety-four thousand credits I hadn't expected.

  The next morning, the Aphelion Crown and her battlegroup entered hyperspace with considerably less ceremony than the Mahkkra.

  I'd expected more. Something like the transcendent experience I'd had flying my ship through the ghost roads. That sense of perceiving infinity, of touching something larger than myself.

  Instead, I only got a light show.

  Through the observation window in our suite, hyperspace looked exactly like it had in the game. Swirling cascades of color that seemed to fold and unfold in patterns that almost made sense. Beautiful, certainly. Mesmerizing, even.

  But my perception stopped at the hull.

  In the Mahkkra, I could feel everything outside the reality bubble. Here, my consciousness can barely reach the edge of it.

  There was a slight distortion to my senses. A faint wrongness to distances and angles that took a day or two to adjust to. The crew seemed unaffected, but they'd done this hundreds of times. By day three, I didn't notice it anymore.

  Six days of direct travel. Compared to the ghost roads, it felt almost mundane.

  At least we weren't confined to our quarters anymore. With the negotiations complete and the crisis averted, we had freedom to move around the ship.

  On the second day, I made my way to the hangar bay to visit the Mahkkra.

  I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her until I saw her sitting there among the Navy shuttles and support craft. She looked small in this company but there was an elegance to her lines that the military vessels couldn't match.

  I ran my hand along her hull. Checked the systems. Made sure nothing had been disturbed.

  Hey, girl. Miss me?

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The cockpit still smelled the same. Still felt the same. My chair, my controls, my view of the universe.

  Soon. Soon we'll be flying again.

  I also discovered the ship's gym. After days of luxury suites and diplomatic dinners, it felt good to move. To train. A mercenary's body was part of his toolkit, and I intended to keep mine in working order.

  The routine helped with the restlessness.

  So did the company. Every evening, the four of us gathered for dinner. It became something of a ritual. An informal routine, a gathering that gradually filled with actual conversation.

  Cornelius dominated most discussions with his encyclopedic knowledge of Imperial history, religion, and culture. I found myself genuinely enjoying his company. He had a way of making complex topics accessible, of finding the human story within the political framework.

  "You explained the different churches," I said one evening, "but how does the Ecclesiarch actually work? You've got all these different faiths, different beliefs. How do you keep them from tearing each other apart?"

  Cornelius smiled at the question. "The system evolved out of necessity. When a vassal state develops sufficiently to merge with the Empire, its citizens automatically become Imperial citizens. But their local faiths cannot simply continue as separate entities. That would create endless jurisdictional conflicts."

  "So they're forced to convert?"

  "No. They're required to integrate. Each local faith must find a home within one of the recognized churches. The Ecclesiarch facilitates this." He took a sip of wine. "What this means, in practice, is that most of the major churches are actually collections of faiths. They share common ideological roots but their actual practices can be remarkably different."

  Rosalia nodded. "I experienced this during my diplomatic training. A Church of the Absolute temple on one world might have silent meditation and abstract architecture. The same church on another world might involve ecstatic dancing and shrines to specific deities."

  "Exactly." Cornelius gestured with his glass. "The Church of the Absolute encompasses all theistic faiths that believe in transcendental deities who oversee creation. Some have radically different creeds: they disagree on the nature of divinity, the purpose of existence. But they share that fundamental belief in higher beings, and that's enough common ground to exist under one umbrella."

  "That seems fragile."

  "It is, sometimes. The Ecclesiarch spends considerable effort mediating internal disputes. But the alternative is endless religious wars across the Empire and that would be far worse." He set down his glass. "The system works because it must. And because all recognized churches accept certain baseline principles: the dignity of sentient life, tolerance of other faiths, no persecution."

  A galaxy-spanning religious compromise. Not perfect, but functional.

  Seraphine occasionally contributed tactical insights or corrected my misunderstandings about Imperial law.

  I found myself looking forward to those dinners more than I probably should have.

  After one such evening, once Seraphine and Cornelius had departed, Rosalia caught my attention.

  "I have been thinking about our resources," she said. "Once the Reizen is repaired and we reach Varkesh Prime, we should fill its cargo hold before leaving Hyperion Deep."

  "Fill it with what?"

  "Rare metals. Exotic elements. Hyperion Deep's storage holds a treasure trove. You have a stockpile of precious materials rivaling a dragon's hoard." She tilted her head. "If you do not have plans for it, you can sell some. Even a partial load would fetch a considerable price on the Imperial market."

  I nodded slowly. "Yeah. We need money to get started. But why do you need so much?"

  She was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

  "I have some ideas. But I want to think about them more carefully before discussing. There are many possibilities, and I do not want to speak prematurely." A slight smile. "Let me work through the options. When I have a solid proposal, you will be the first to know."

  I accepted that. She was the strategic planner. That was her role in our partnership.

  Whatever she's thinking, it's probably smarter than anything I'd come up with.

  A few nights later, the conversation at dinner turned to the Mahkkra.

  "Your ship fascinates me," Cornelius said. "The engineering I observed during my inspection was unlike anything in standard naval design. I've been meaning to ask about the crew configuration."

  "It's actually kind of weird," I admitted. "The Mahkkra seems designed for two people in the cockpit during normal operations. Hence four crew quarters, two shifts rotating. But for intense combat, the layout assumes three in the cockpit."

  "Three operators?" Cornelius leaned forward. "That's unusual for a vessel that size."

  "Yeah. Pilot, operator, and engineer. The problem is, there's no fourth anti-g chair anywhere on the ship. So if you run full combat configuration with a crew of four, your fourth person has nowhere safe to be during high-g maneuvers. They'd have to strap into a bunk or something."

  "That is an unusual design choice," Cornelius said.

  "Yeah. The Mahkkra was an experimental ship." The words came out before I could stop them. "More a proof of concept, really. Never meant for actual deployment."

  Across the table, Seraphine's eyes sharpened, but not with suspicion. With hunger.

  "Proof of concept," she repeated. "Meaning there could be production models somewhere. Full deployment specifications. Manufacturing documentation."

  Shit.

  "I... don't know," I said honestly. "I only had the one ship."

  "But whoever built it might have more." She wasn't angry. She was eager. "This is exactly why the admiralty wanted full technical cooperation. If we can reverse-engineer even half of what your ship does..."

  Rosalia's hand touched my arm under the table. A warning.

  "Perhaps," she said smoothly, "we should discuss the route to Varkesh Prime instead. I believe there were some options regarding waypoints?"

  Seraphine accepted the redirect, but I could see the calculations continuing behind her eyes. Not what is he hiding? But what else can we learn?

  The remaining days of travel passed without incident. Then, on the sixth day, as we approached the Hyperion Deep system, Seraphine extended an invitation.

  "You may observe the translation from the bridge," she said, her tone suggesting this was a significant courtesy. "Both of you. If you wish."

  "We would be honored," Rosalia said, before I could respond.

  The command bridge of the Aphelion Crown was everything I'd imagined and more. A multi-tiered chamber dominated by a central holographic display showing real-time tactical data. Officers at stations around the periphery, each monitoring their specific domain. The captain's chair elevated at the center, commanding view of everything.

  I tried not to look too impressed. Probably failed.

  The translation from hyperspace was smooth. Just a brief moment of disorientation, then normal space surrounded us again. Stars. Asteroids. The distant glow of the system's primary.

  And, on sensors: nothing.

  "The system appears uninhabited," the sensor officer reported, confusion evident. "No stations, no orbital infrastructure, no artificial signatures."

  Seraphine's eyes flicked to me.

  "Give me a moment," I said. "The station has a camouflage system. I need to deactivate it."

  I pulled up the command console on my holo-bracer. My fingers tapped the complex authorization key on the hard-light display. I had done it so often it was muscle memory now. A soft chime confirmed the handshake.

  For a long moment, nothing happened.

  Then Hyperion Deep appeared on sensors. All of it. The station, the asteroid it was built into, the docked ship.

  The bridge went very quiet.

  I stared at the sensor display, trying not to let my own surprise show.

  Shit. I did it again.

  I sighed. In the game, the chameleon array had been one of my prized possessions, crafted from raid-dropped schematics using components I'd spent months farming. So of course, it had translated into another piece of technology that should not be working.

  "A chameleon array," Seraphine said, her voice dangerously flat. "Military-grade, full-spectrum sensor displacement capable of hiding an entire station from a battlegroup's sensors. Impressive. I have never met one that could fool our sensors so perfectly."

  "Yes." I said in a small voice.

  Her jaw tightened. But when she spoke again, I realized her frustration wasn't aimed at me.

  "If they had this capability," she said quietly, almost to herself. "One has to wonder what Church of Enlightened Knowledge used it for. What else have they been hiding..."

  She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

  She's not angry at me. She's angry at them. At the church she thinks built all of this.

  I should have felt relieved. The cover story was holding. But watching Seraphine's carefully controlled reaction, I felt something else entirely.

  What happens when she finds out there is no secret church laboratory? No stolen research? Just a gamer who accidentally brought his end-game equipment into reality?

  "Helm," Seraphine said, her voice perfectly controlled despite the tension in her shoulders. "Set course. Park the fleet in low orbit of the station."

  I caught Rosalia's eye across the bridge. Her expression was carefully neutral, but I could read the message clearly enough.

  We will need to be very careful.

  The Aphelion Crown began its approach, and I watched the familiar shape of Hyperion Deep grow larger on the displays. My accidental home. My impossible creation.

  And soon, the subject of very thorough Imperial Navy examination.