Episode 239: Checkmate

"It’s a private Stargate, see. A tiny little venture like ours shouldn’t really have one of these, but hey—perks of the job."

Taro flashed a bitter, jagged grin at the loathsome woman staring back from his visor.

Normally, if you just wanted to hop to the next star system over, a ship-mounted Overdrive unit could do the heavy lifting. But if you wanted to leap across half the galaxy? You needed the big guns. You needed a dedicated Stargate—a massive, specialized megastructure that cost a literal, eye-popping fortune.

Rising Sun only owned the thing because Taro was a master of the "aggressive negotiation." When the Empire began its re-expansion into the Alpha and Enzio Sectors, Dean had fed Taro the intel early. Taro had effectively held the region's entire population and its wealth hostage, implicitly threatening to pack up every warm body and credit chip and vanish unless the Empire handed over the keys to the gate.

Back in the Old Empire days, the resources in those distant reaches were untouchable. Now, that gate was the backbone of the Rising Sun Alliance’s operations in the Alpha Sector. Even though salvaging armor plates at Nuke had eventually overtaken it as their top earner, the gate was still a massive cash cow.

"Thanks to you, our development operations have been dead in the water for two weeks," Taro grumbled, sounding thoroughly exhausted. Man, just thinking about the absolute reaming I’m going to take from our partner companies gives me a migraine.

He sounded fed up, but truthfully, he wasn't worried. He was already mentally tallying up the damages and adding a hefty "jerk tax" to the massive reparations bill he planned to shove down the throat of the woman on his screen.

"..................How?"

After a long, stunned silence, the Mercenary leader, Etta, finally found her voice. She took a ragged, suffocating breath.

"How did you calculate the coordinates for the destination? Stargates are designed to operate as a mutual link between two units. Theoretically, single-gate operation is possible, but..."

In response to her question, Taro reached over and pulled "his" Etta into a side-hug.

"We happen to have the world’s greatest Sonarman on staff. Once she caught the beacon from the other side, she nailed the exact coordinates in one shot! ...Wait, ow. Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I got carried away!"

Etta—the good one—was currently scowling with enough intensity to melt bulkheads. Taro timidly released her and cleared his throat.

"......I see. So that’s how it is," the enemy Etta muttered. "This entire battle... it was all just a stall. You weren't waiting for evidence. You were just buying time for that Sonarman to wake up."

The look on the Mercenary leader’s face shifted from stunned resignation to a slow-boiling, incandescent rage. Technically, not everything had been a distraction, but Taro didn't see any reason to correct her. He just let her stew.

"Actually, using the Ray Tracing Method to scrub through the past takes forever," Taro added. "Dr. Arzimof says it’ll produce rock-solid physical evidence, but we’re looking at another half-month of processing time at least."

That part was the honest-to-God truth. Even with the doctor's genius-level oversight, the investigation was moving at a snail's pace because they had so much historical data to sift through.

"You really... you really think you can make a fool out of me like this?"

The enemy President’s brow began to twitch uncontrollably. Her face was contorted into a mask of pure malice. Taro could practically feel the heat of her fury radiating through the comms.

"I will never forgive you for this! I don't care what it takes—I will ruin you!"

Etta screamed into the mic, her composure finally shattering. Taro just stared at her with a deadpan expression. "Forgive me?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yes! You will pay for this! You, everyone you know, everyone you love—"

"Shut up, you absolute dumpster fire! That’s my line!"

Taro roared back, his voice drowning hers out completely. He slammed his fist into the pilot’s seat. It hurt like hell, but he didn't let it show. He leaned in close to the camera, pointing a finger directly at her.

"You’re a piece of work, lady. You look at human beings like they’re just another resource to be mined, and you’re so high on your own supply that you think you’re some kind of god."

The memory of the despair on the faces of the Garuda Station residents still haunted him. At the time, he’d had no words for them; he’d just looked at the floor in shame. It disgusted him that he and this woman were even members of the same species. To him, she wasn't a person—she was just a concentrated lump of evil.

"It’s not just Garuda Station. You played Enzio and the EAP against each other just to turn their homes into your personal fishing grounds. Well, listen up and remember this: I’m not letting you tuck your tail and run back to the Empire, and I’m sure as hell not handing you over to some 'court of law.' What happens to you is up to the people of Garuda Station. Don't go dreaming of an easy death."

Taro’s voice was quiet now, but it carried the weight of a death sentence. The woman in the visor actually flinched, shrinking back ever so slightly.

"Heh... hehe... look at you, talking big. Don't tell me you think you’ve already won? This fight isn't over."

Her face was twitching so hard it looked like it might slide off. Taro glared at her for a beat, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"You really are delusional, aren't you? I’m genuinely curious—do you honestly think you have a card left to play?"

"I do! Nothing is finished! All you did was stop a massacre that hadn't even happened yet! That is all!"

"Wrong," Taro snapped. "You’re done. You’re in checkmate."

"Hehe... you're a fool. I'm sure you’ve broadcasted or recorded that little stunt back there, but so what? That’s not 'evidence.' It’s not verifiable physical proof. It doesn't matter what people say—I’ll just deny it. Over and over. Until it goes away."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. We live in an age where you can fake high-end CG in real-time with the right jamming suite. 'It’s just a well-made deepfake,' right? 'Just the desperate last gasps of a failing company trying to smear a rival.' I can see the press release now."

"Exactly! So you do understand. And my fleet is still out there, waiting for my command."

"Then why do you think a guy like me—who understands all that—is telling you that you’re screwed?"

".................."

"The people who needed to see it have already seen it," Taro said, his tone turning dismissive. "You still don't get it? Fine. Shoo. Go on. Your 'precious' fleet is waiting for you, isn't it?"

Taro made a flicking motion with his hand, like he was shooing a persistent fly. The enemy Etta looked utterly bewildered.

"What? Did you think we were gonna have some heroic one-on-one duel? I don't have time for that crap. Ammo is expensive, and besides, I’ve got a mountain of questions I need to beat out of you."

Garuda Station was just one facility; they hadn't tracked down the rest yet. Taro wanted nothing more than to turn her into a cloud of glowing ions right now, but he needed her alive for the intel.

"Plus, we still have to talk about what happened at Coleman... Now, get lost. Feel free to take a shot at us on your way out, but we’ll just hop the Stargate before the beams even reach us."

Taro leaned back in his seat, folding his arms and closing his eyes to show he was done talking. On the other side of the visor, the woman hesitated, her face a mess of confusion and rage, before she vanished in a flash of blue light.

"Hope you enjoy the despair," Taro muttered.

During the Overdrive jump back toward the sector where her Main Fleet waited, the Mercenary Etta didn't say a word. She was trying to convince herself she could still win, but the enemy President’s words were stuck in her throat like a jagged piece of glass.

"............"

The Bridge was deathly silent. Every time a subordinate shifted in their seat or the fabric of Tetta’s uniform rustled, it sounded like a thunderclap in her ears.

"......I am..."

Etta spoke to the empty air, taking a sharp breath.

"I am a chosen human being. It is impossible for me to lose. I can read the hearts of men! Even Coleman recognized my worth!"

She was practically chanting it now, a desperate prayer to her own ego.

"I still have a thousand ships. Nothing has changed. Nothing is over. I will regroup, and then I will grind that man’s fleet into dust. Ceasefire be damned. I’ll seize control of the narrative, I’ll scrub the data... yes. Nothing has changed."

Etta kept muttering to herself, checking the time with frantic, shaky movements. They were seconds away from the drop, but every tick of the clock felt like an eternity.

[DRIVE-OUT IN 10... 9... 8...]

The Adjutant’s voice echoed through the Bridge. With every number, Etta visualized her massive fleet growing in size, clinging to the image like a life raft.

[...2... 1... DRIVE-OUT]

The world exploded in blue light, accompanied by the familiar, piercing whine of the drive disengaging. As her vision cleared, Etta opened her mouth to bark an order, her heart racing with anticipation.

"............Ah."

That was the only sound she could make.

"............What... Why...?"

She surged out of her seat, clutching the console as if her life depended on it.

On the Radar Screen, the display was almost entirely white. Unidentified small vessels were appearing in such staggering numbers that they were literally burying the interface.

The "Main Fleet" she had been counting on was invisible—smothered under a carpet of icons. She couldn't even tell where her own ships were.

"............Ahhh..."

As the comms channels automatically stabilized, a literal wall of screaming voices flooded the Bridge. Etta took a stumbling step forward, her legs turning to jelly, as the main viewscreen resolved the sensor data into a visual.

It was a WIND Swarm.

And there were more than a hundred thousand of them.