Eric’s thoughts were whirling as he allowed a surprisingly anxious-looking admiral to lead him through multiple bridges, passageways, elevators and corridors of uniform shiny chrome, steel, and soothing pastel colors that somehow didn’t take the edge off the sharp tension radiating from the entire quintet of elite Engineers surrounding him, all of them murmuring chants that at any other place and time Eric would have thoroughly studied, clearly tasting the sharp tingle of arcanistry in the air, wondering what cool evolutions in warding magics they could teach him.

  Not that it was necessary in the least, no matter how many busy looking officers and enlisted men and women would be hurrying by with head down before jerking their attention in wide-eyed dismay at the sight of both grimly hurrying admiral and guest that they looked at like he was a living nuke.

  “Well, in all fairness, you pretty much are one, right now,” Bunbun’s much-missed image quipped, bringing a smirk to Eric’s features. She was a blessed distraction as his body cried out for sustenance that he was completely unable to give it, and never had he felt worse than here, traveling through the void of space where there was absolutely no Spiritual Energy at all. Not even the comparatively faint trickle emanating everywhere on Earth, even Freetown. He clenched his teeth tight against pain that caused hurried whispers amongst his chaperons, even though the Core was, ironically, the lesser of his concerns.

  “Report.”

  “Despite clear signs of physical discomfort, the subject is leaking absolutely no hyperion radiation, Admiral, which should be impossible.”

  This earned a snort. “Does he even have a hyperion core?”

  “I guess we’ll soon find out, Admiral.”

  “Indeed we will. And did you get a read on his power level?”

  “He appears to be cloaking it, but we pinged at least Rank 30 Silver.”

  Rieza stumbled and cursed, giving Eric a dismayed glare. “Impossible! That would make him stronger than our…” She adamantly shook her head. “Tell no one.”

  Eric smiled politely. “Forgiveness, Admiral Rieza, but did you ask me something? I received memtapes only for galactic common and trade standard, the two dialects I was assured would stand me in good stead throughout the sector.”

  “And indeed they will!” Reiza brightly declared in galactic common. “Now here we are, our generator containment facility! Don’t fret the forcefiel—” Reize blinked in stupefied disbelief when Eric casually walked through the violently crackling wall of energy before him when he caught sight of a familiar looking faraday cage besides brilliantly flashing equipment of some sort, only realizing that he might have misunderstood when he spotted no less than a dozen engineering professionals all frantically gesticulating and gazing at him in horror. One appeared to be attempting to pull a lever that another pair yanked him away from.

  Admiral Reiza was gazing at him through the crackling field of screaming death with a look of horrified disbelief.

  Speed Racer means inertia’s your bitch, and nothing’s holding you back! That and 3700+ Strength allows you to EFFORTLESSLY ignore repulsion field!

  You have been struck by excaliber-class electromana pulse-wave!

  896 Effective Elemental resistance reduces de-atomizing blast to: Was I supposed to feel that?

  Eric blinked back at the now trembling Reiza. “What was that?” He then looked down, noting where her eye were registering, realizing only then that some things were indeed stronger than his bluejeans.

  The ghostly Bunbun who he knew wasn’t really there chortled. “Looks like Reiza’s checking you out! Admiring your cute buns… hehe.”

  He scowled. “Fuck. I hope they come back.” He then shrugged. “At least my dachi’s okay,” he said, patting the hilt of his now soulbound blade.

  Bunbun nodded. “Covered with all sorts of useful runes, now. And did you actually manage to squeeze out some Essence of Impermeability into it, like a stubborn little turd almost impossible to get out? Wow, you’re really determined not to lose this one, aren’t you?”

  “Damn right.” Eric then turned his focus back on the poleaxed admiral, ignoring the half dozen wildly gesticulating engineers.

  “So, I assume that shimmering cage by the wildly glowing trekkian looking generator that I’m guessing is your Hyperion Engine is where you would like me to put your brand new shiny Hyperion Core?”

  He said the last with his best smile.

  Admiral Reiza swallowed. “It would perhaps be better if you placed it in the faraday cage on the other side of the engine room, as far away from the generator as humanly possible?”

  Eric frowned, crossing his arms, glaring at the generator and the strangely sheepish looking faraday cage, then at the terrified-looking engineers, then back at the admiral.

  “Then why the fuck am I even in here?”

  The admiral gave him a pointed look. “Assuming you’re not here to catalyze the destruction of our flagship and declare war with the Andaarian Imperium?”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Eric snapped, now downright pissed. “How the fuck will I get paid then?”

  This earned a snort. “That’s a very good question. So, how about you step outside of the denial array meant to keep our generator safe from all external threats, where you’re currently enjoying radiation levels that would kill most of my crew within seconds, and we see about getting you your compensation?”

  Eric nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait, I’ll clear the engine room so they can lower the… never mind,” she whispered with a ragged breath when Eric crossed the crackling barrier exploding with tingly energies once more.

  Admiral Reiza lurched back, as did the horrified-looking engineers.

  “Sir, I detect no deadly levels of radiation!”

  “Impossible! How is he even alive?”

  Eric ignored the quibbling engineers, having eyes only for the woman still holding his tablet, who still hadn’t signed the bottom line.

  “I imagine there was an exquisitely intricate point to that bit of madness, Dreadlord?”

  “Yeah... I got confused?”

  “Your sense of direction is still shit,” Bunbun snarked.

  “Not when I’m a phoenix.” He ignored the looks this declaration earned.

  “Still shit when you’re a human, lacking all those clever bird navigation nodes.”

  Admiral Reiza continued to stare at him with morbid fascination. “Do you truly feel no pain at all?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “From that thing? Of course not. But… hmm… It kind of made the roots of all my hairs tingle.”

  Bunbun snickered. “Ooh! All your hair’s standing on end. Even your pubes! Cool.”

  Eric flushed, pointedly not looking down at himself.

  The horrified engineers, however, just wouldn’t let it go.

  “What in the universe possessed you to walk through a Dominex-class repulsion field and through a disintegration array?”

  “He’s insane.”

  “He should be dead!”

  “He shouldn’t have been able to push through! Nothing could, no matter how strong! Not without tearing up the nanocoating of the floor panels and that isn’t happening without...”

  “Look, it was a simple mistake!” Eric assured. “My eye caught sight of the Faraday box thingy my familiar used last time, so I just kind of... went for it.”

  A sudden strained silence filled the room, broken only by the bone-grating hum of the hyperion engine which, now that Eric thought of it, really would have been a stupid place to put a backup core, so near the one in active use. Not unless absolutely necessary, and who knew what proximity cascades might occur as a result. He sure as hell didn’t.

  The obvious lead engineer, wearing a disheveled uniform with more shiny insignias than anyone else, save for the admiral, finally blinked, opened his mouth to speak, paused, then tried again.

  “You just kind of… went for it.”

  “Well… yeah?”

  “You didn’t think that the repulsion field was, maybe, I don’t know… a hint of some kind?”

  Eric shrugged. “Well, sure. We can Monday-night-quarterback things after the fact for hours, if you want. But right then and there… yeah, it wasn’t that big a deal. Like nudging open a door with your shoulder while your hands are full and you’re in a hurry to get things done, kind of thing. You know?”

  “You shouldn’t have been able to get through at all!” Gesticulated the youngest and admittedly prettiest of the engineers, gazing at him like he was some kind of monster. “Dominex-class repulsion arrays are certified against elite Bronze-Tier squads… even against double perk aligned weapon feats!”

  Eric shrugged. “Yeah, well, in my experience, most Bronze mercs are shit, so that’s not really saying much.”

  The entire squad of engineers flinched at those words, gazing at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  “Is he serious?”

  “That he would dare say such things aloud!”

  “He’s either incredibly powerful, or incredibly foolish.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty clear he’s both?” muttered the petite engineer, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  Eric blinked at her. “What?”

  “And what’s this double perk bullshit?” A cross Bunbun muttered between bites of her carrot, popping up on the tablet still in a dazed Reiza’s hands. “We were tangling with triple-perk aligned bitches, and they still couldn’t take you out!”

  Eric tilted his head. “Well, to be fair, they did fuck up New York pretty good. And the assholes who hit you…”

  “Got exactly what they deserved!” She huffed with an angry munch to an innocent carrot.

  Eric nodded his complete agreement, ignoring the now aggressively glaring engineers. “Reiza?”

  She flinched, before giving a resolute nod. “Fear not, honored guest. We’ll be sure to put up plenty of signs in galactic common and most especially English, explaining that walking into disintegration arrays is hazardous to most people’s health, before we allow any further guests into the beating heart of our dreadnoughts.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Eric said, ignoring Bunbun’s snort from the tablet the admiral still held, though she did flinch.

  “She’s totally making fun of you, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Reiza cleared her throat, pointing to a faraday cage contraption that looked exactly like the one on the other side of the force field and it was totally not fair how they were all looking at him like he was an idiot whenever they thought he couldn’t see them, and how the hell was he supposed to know?

  They looked entirely the same!

  Eric scowled at the faraday cage now crackling with a dozen overlapping fields of its own.

  He then turned back to a too brightly smiling Reiza. “This is where you want me to put it.”

  “That is correct, Dreadlord.”

  “Right here in this faraday cage that looks EXACTLY like the one I first approached?”

  “Minus the denial fields and engine radiating deadly amounts of radiation… yes. That is correct,” she said with a too bright smile.

  Eric scowled. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “And what would that be, Dreadlord?”

  The lead engineer’s eyes bulged in sudden dismay. “heaven’s mercy. He’s right. Put up the auxiliary force field! DO it now!”

  Reiza paled, cheeks flushing. She bowed her head in silent respect, the staff clearly having been so thrown off by Eric’s shenanigans that they had almost slipped up in their own protocols.

  Reiza bowed her head in genuine respect. “Well played, Dreadlord.”

  Eric snorted. Refusing to be distracted. “I mean, signing on the bottom line.”

  Reiza stiffened, before her lips curved in an impish smile. “Well played indeed.” At which point, to her credit, she signed the app before pulling out a device she snapped onto his tablet that Eric couldn’t make heads or tales of. But he wasn’t going to say anything to reveal just how clueless and technologically backwards he was. Especially not when Bunbun, who’s scholarship was way higher than his, let loose a happy squeal. “Awesome news, Fearless Leader! It all went through, smooth as silk!”

  Eric grinned as he pulled out the Hyperion Core, only a single panicked cry echoing through the now brilliantly glittering engine room before he carefully placed it in the heart of the containment field just as fast as 3000 Quickness and Battletime allowed, not jostling it in the least.

  He stood over it for several tense seconds, just in case, but a quick look at the lead engineer, loosening his collar as sweat ran down his forehead earned him a quick nod.

  then turned, saluting his commander-in-chief. “It’s stable and fully contained.”

  “Quality?” She barked, now all business.

  “At least 98%.”

  Eric scowled at this.

  “Of course it could be much higher, as much as 99.999% There’s no way for me to tell, since we didn’t measure it beforehand. But there is zero counter-resonance in its containment, which means it’s at least pristine quality.”

  “Good.” Admiral Reiza held Eric’s gaze as the ruthless commander and negotiator he knew she ultimately was for long seconds before breaking out in a beaming smile, giving a pleased clap.

  “Excellent work, Eric. A pleasure doing business with you, as always!”

  Eric’s tense features eased into a grin, Bunbun giving him a big thumbs up before her image winked out of his reclaimed tablet.

  A tablet that instantly disappeared, Eric relieved to find that he had full access to a completely intact and utterly unstrained ES Storage space, placing his Blue card and dachi inside, just a heartbeat later… and absolutely pleased as punch that he could sense his now absolutely glorious 2.5 TRILLION credit balance popping up, even in his ES Space.

  “Kid has a fucking personal storage space!”

  “Of course he does. How the hell do you think he stored that core?”

  Reiza flashed a thousand megawatt smile. “Now that everything’s properly in its place, allow me to personally escort you to the VIP suites where you can glory in the galactic vista as we make our way to Prolus IV, and from there, you’re just a single jump away from Titan Prime, one of the agrarian jewels of the empire.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Eric blinked at that. “But they’re also into cultivation, mystical monasteries and temples, exotic Qi powers and kung fu fighting, right? Because I want to be clear, here. Not risk us stumbling through any more disintegration fields totally by accident, ha ha. It’s more than just farming, right?”

  Reiza gave him the strangest look. The engineers were staring at him again.

  Slowly, Reiza nodded. “That’s right, Eric,” she said with the too bright smile reserved for utterly clueless kids who had absolutely no idea what the hell they were doing.

  Eric hated how well it suited him.

  “In addition to supplying the rice, rye, buckwheat, golden wheat, and corn needed to feed upwards of 100 billion souls, it also sports quite a number of cultivation academies and an atmosphere unusually rich with what you would call ‘Spiritual Energy.’ I trust this is acceptable to you? I am, of course, happy to drop you off wherever you would like to go… Dreadlord Silver.”

  Then the numbers hit him. Truly hit him. “A hundred billion souls?”

  His eyes widened all the further. “And, wait… you said wheat, and corn and rice and… those are all Terran crops!”

  Reiza’s smile grew all the more strained. “Eric… dear Eric… you’re from a newly ascending world, yes?”

  Eric winced. “I mean… with the way your engineers are staring at me like I’m the biggest idiot on the ship…”

  “And this is a big fucking ship,” huffed a particularly irate-looking engineer who had no right to be that hot and look at him with that much contempt.

  Eric cleared his throat. “So, yeah. Newly ascending world. Which of course explains absolutely everything.”

  “Including how you managed to get ahold of pristine hyperion cores, and know enough to sell it to one of the few fleets that won’t ask questions, but don’t know enough not to walk through denial fields and disintegration arrays?”

  Eric pointedly ignored the girl murmuring under her breath, feeling no need to reveal his 1700 Perception. “Which of course explains absolutely everything we need to discuss… and what does that have to do with the price of wheat?”

  Reiza flashed a bemused smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand in a fashion that was almost… motherly. “It has absolutely everything to do with the price of wheat, and corn, darling boy. Because your world didn’t even exist in reality as we know it until you all popped into being. And of course you all did so with a baseline blueprint already in place. Including horses, wheat, rice, and a physiology so close to ours that we can actually have viable offspring.”

  “Because you didn’t even exist, less than two years ago,” murmured the same girl giving him such a condescending look until Eric, eyes flashing, spun around to glare at her.

  “Bullshit,” he snapped. “I existed for nineteen… why the fuck are you flinching? And did you really just wet your pants? I’m just making a point!”

  A suddenly embarrassed Eric turned back to the admiral. “I don’t know why she’s crying. I didn’t do shit to her.”

  “Rank 37,” muttered one of the engineers, gazing down at his wildly beeping Geiger counter-like device breathlessly. “His killing aura… He’s a rank 37 Silver, Admiral!”

  Eric sighed. “Really? That’s what matters, here? Not the supposed existence and 4.6 billion year history of my entire world?”

  “Or the fact that you understand Andaarian just fine,” Reiza said with a too-knowing smile.

  Eric smirked. “Okay, you got me there. But in my defense, who gives a fuck? You’re up five hyperion cores and I’m up 2.5 TRILLION CREDITS! So why the fuck should I care if my entire existence was retroactively generated the minute my phone blew up on the hotel lobby floor? Because at the end of the day…”

  Reiza grinned. “It’s all about the credits.”

  “It is. It really, really is.”

  “So, Dreadlord Silver, how’d you like to double your fortune?”

  Eric chuckled as they made their way to what would be his private quarters for the duration of his trip, the awkward goofball of moments before gone like the self-conscious mask it was, his Social Perception, What the Other Party Wants, and most especially his Know the Score perk now happily tingling in the back of his mind.

  Somehow, Eric wasn’t surprised to find himself seated comfortably across from the admiral who was laying out some exceedingly enticing blueprints and diagrams upon the chrome and glass table before them, a chilled decanter of what smelled an awful lot like a sweet winter wine awaiting their enjoyment.

  She smiled brightly at his bemuse gaze. “And these, my dear Dreadlord Silver, are the blueprints of the Yan Kingdom’s Raven Class Dreadnoughts. I won’t bore you with a long speech of the injustices that the righteous and noble Andaarian people suffered at the hands of their ruthless incursions, the countless millions butchered or sold off to slave markets… the billions we lose every quarter to the privateers that are, in fact, poorly disguised Yan Destroyers.”

  Eric smirked, ignoring the ever-growing ache in his bones, pouring his host a full glass of rich red fare while doing the same for himself.

  “Because it’s not about politics.”

  She chuckled throatily. “Indeed it isn’t. Not for a bright and capable Silver-tier Contender such as yourself, eager to embrace any and all challenges, and push his Imperial Account balance to grand new heights that no lessor court can ever censor or touch!”

  Eric smiled, sipping his wine. “Delicious. Tastes a lot like an Australian Shiraz. 2018. Just a few years before our world changed forever.”

  “I’m glad you like it, Eric. It’s an Evernote Crystal special, retailing in higher end establishments for a hundred thousand per bottle.” Her eyes twinkled. “Not that you need to worry about such a trifle, but we do believe in quality for all our VIPs.”

  Eric just smiled, sipping his drink, waiting for it.

  Reiza inhaled, her chest straining against her uniform, and Eric felt no shame giving her an admiring glance. “Eric Silver, you earned a fortune today that’s beyond commendable. In fact, I’d be quite surprised if you hadn’t earned more than a few Negotiation levels while doing so.”

  Eric’s smile grew strained. He had been doing his best to push aside his System messages, almost afraid of what he would see, after being forced to leave the world of his birth and surrender the most precious tools of the Profession he had worked so hard to master. And just knowing that the System would delight in showing him just how broken he really was… how close he was to expiring if he dared to make the wrong move… a few cheerful skill rank notifications hadn’t been worth taking a good long look at the slew of penalties he was almost certain he was suffering.

  But in terms of pure financial winning… All he had to do was look at Bunbun’s tablet, formerly Reiza’s tablet, and now most definitely his tablet, for his strained features to lighten with an extremely pleased smile.

  He had absolutely no reason to complain about anything with his current bank account balance, and he thought he had handled himself pretty well on the negotiation front, all things considered.

  Except maybe walking into that obliteration field like an idiot. Who knows how much looking like a clueless goofball (which he was) and not like a Bond or Kirk-style badass had cost him in terms of coolness? (Probably a lot.)

  He sighed, ebullient mood wilting just a bit as the captain spoke on.

  “But if my sources are correct… and they’re rarely wrong, that’s the last of the hyperion cores you have for sale. Is it not?”

  Eric suppressed a flinch. How the hell could she possibly… unless she was just fishing. And the smug smile she flashed him made it clear she had read him like a book.

  Damn! What level was her Negotiation at, really?

  Still, she was graceful enough not to gloat.

  “The way I see it, Eric, you can either retire in bucolic bliss and practice breathing exercises like in the light fantasy novel of your choice, looking back at the glory days of your youth without ever rising a lick higher. And just think!” She gushed with a too bright smile. “At your power level, you’ll have thousands of years to revel in utter bucolic boredom before finally passing on.”

  She smirked at his dismayed expression. “Or, you can seize a life of excitement and adventure and double your fortune in just a few short years!” She dared a sultry smile. “Maybe even increase your level at a downright remarkable pace. Far, far faster than you would, doing nothing more learning meditation exercises in some mystical monastery as a Rank 37 Silver. I fucking promise you that, Eric Silver.”

  Eric smirked. “Are we appealing to my sense of ennui, boredom, existential dread, and monstrous overconfidence?”

  This earned a snort. “I saw you cross a repulsion field and disintegration array like it was nothing. And please don’t pretend you weren’t looking to impress me. No one capable of altering their flight through hyperspace, fully aware in a state that leaves most people frozen in nul-time, would be such an idiot as to blithely walk through a…” Her words trailed off.

  Eric sighed. “I’m guessing your ridiculously high level social skills just made it clear that I wasn’t fronting. I really did approach the wrong Faraday cage like an idiot tourist ignoring the blaring red lights as he walks into just the wrong area, Mr. Beam style, right?”

  Reiza swallowed before calmly taking a sip of her wine. “I, of course, have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I’m too busy being impressed by your shockingly high resistances. Just as you no doubt intended.”

  Eric smirked. “Right.”

  “There’s a reasons why I brought multiple blueprints for us to peruse.”

  “With brightly marked areas saying ‘force field. Be careful!’ Which is silly, since you’d be sending me in as a one man strike force. Specifically, to claim the hyperion cores and power down the dreadnoughts which would also keep them from pushing any pesky self-destruct button.”

  Eric winced at the jaded look she was giving him.

  “Or am I totally off?” He forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I read a lot of thrillers. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions?”

  She snorted. “As if anyone would be stupid enough to install self-destruct buttons, where an appropriately trained enemy’s cyber or psionic attack would risk destroying a vessel capable of supporting an entire theater of war.”

  “Oh.”

  “Really.” She sighed. “When all you need to do is deliberately overheat the engines in pre-jump while lowering the shields and flooding the engineering chamber with enough hyperion radiation to make extraction or successful ship claimance all but impossible.”

  “I see.”

  She flashed a dimpled smile. “But otherwise, yes. Spot on, as they say. And should you actually manage to claim that core… you will of course be entitled to a Hero’s share. A full 10% of the core’s value.”

  Eric just stared at her for long moments, taking another sip of wine. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass.”

  Reiza’s back stiffened, now gazing down her adorable pert nose at him, lips curving in a tiny smile as she took a sip of her own drink. “I’ll go as high as twenty percent.”

  Eric snorted. “Half.”

  Reiza frowned. “Eric, this isn’t some hot core you claimed from your father’s lost foundry. These would be treasures seized from a joint operation. You’d earn mercenary rates, of course. Extremely generous and maybe, just maybe, I can offer 25% of Jitan rates but…”

  Eric’s heart was pounding in his chest as he choked back a scream.

  She knew. SHE FUCKING KNEW!

  And right now she was just toying at him, deliberately unleashing this info bomb to fluster him in the middle of the most crucial negotiation imaginable. But for her to be confident doing that… he let her patter wash over him, seeing the calculating glitter in her eyes that her intent, almost innocent negotiating expression hid so well, thanks no doubt to his high Social Perception. Almost as good as mind reading, even if his Psionc Rupture was as far as his limited Sylvan brain would ever evolve in that direction.

  Eric forced a cold smile. Why the fuck should he be surprised that she had successfully put all the pieces together? She was a lead admiral in what seemed to be an exceedingly powerful, wealthy, and sophisticated intergalactic kingdom. Hell, the queen had known his name and destination the instant she made eye contact with him, all courtesies aside! Of course they had agents and resources and who knew what else to answer some very pointed questions. And ascending Golds were NOT a common sight, he was sure.

  If nothing else, her queen’s demand to know the details must have been at a frantic pitch when Evelyn Exalt herself had gotten involved in some backwater world.

  He could only imagine how many powers were well aware of Malificent Bane’s existence… and his failed ascension to Gold. Maybe they even understood how it had gone down. And who better than a faction that had clearly traded with the scumbag?

  Traded for the cores he had so happily sold them at rock-bottom rates.

  If they were really savvy, and had read the history books about what had supposedly happened two thousand years ago… the ascent of a Sylvan Queen to Gold, one who looked exactly like a female version of Eric…

  Shit.

  He schooled his features as best he could, taking a fresh sip of wine.

  “I didn’t mean a fifty percent share of the core,” he clarified.

  Reiza paused in her patter, flashing him a pleased smile. “Good. I’m glad we have an understanding in regards to the utter infeasibility of such a—”

  “I meant for the entire ship.” Eric flashed a smile both hard and cold. “For each and every bloody ship and core I capture, I expect to be credited a full fifty percent of its Jitan value.”

  He cracked the table with his knuckle. Frowning when it actually cracked. “But I’m not unreasonable,” he interjected as her eyes flashed with sudden heat. “I’m willing to work on credit. 20, or hell, 50 year Andaarian Imperium treasuries with a decent coupon will work just fine.”

  Reiza straightened up to her full six-foot-two height, and Eric wasn’t even a bit jealous.

  “Outrageous!”

  Eric grinned. “Let me get this straight. If I manage to singlehandedly capture a Yan empire Dreadnought, obliterate its engine crew, claime its core, then capture its bridge with all its officers either dead or forced to submit to my will… you wouldn’t be willing to buy off me a threat that could have destroyed or heavily damaged your own capital ships? Instead of spending countless billions fixing vitally important tools for bringing the full might and fury of the Andaarian navy anywhere in this sector, you’d have suffered absolutely no damage and have the opportunity to claim both dreadnought and core in near perfect working order at rock-bottom prices!”

  Eric gave her a pointed look. “And best of all, what I’ll bet absolutely no other Dreadlord would offer, I’ll even sell it to you on credit!”

  Reiza snorted. “I see this conversation is pointless. When you’re ready to both see reason and grow your fortune… when you’re ready to earn your place as a feted noble of the Andaarian Imperium, I will of course be happy to discuss far more reasonable concessions, then.”

  Eric grinned. “Run it by your queen. If she’s game, I’ll be happy to prioritize working with the Andaarian Imperium, just as soon as done with Titan Prime.”

  Reiza snorted. “A complete waste of time. You do know you won’t even be able to access the System there, don’t you? And forged in fire as you were, I’ll bet your foundation is the farthest thing from a pristine temple.”

  Eric forced a rueful chuckle. “You know what? You’re probably right. For all I know, I’ll be ready to jet in a season. So the only question you have to ask yourself, Admiral, is would you rather have me working for the winning Andaarian team, or…” He let the word hang, gracious enough not to say aloud what both implicitly understood.

  He was a bored Dreadlord who had just remanded his army to the galactic empress herself. In return, he had basically been given free leave to follow his whims and pursue whatever pursuits he wished in the galaxy at large. If the Andaarian Imperium didn’t want to hire someone powerful enough to brush through repulsion and disintegration fields as casually as knocking over a ‘wet paint’ sign, no doubt someone else would. Maybe a faction diametrically opposed to Andaar’s monarchy.

  Maybe someone who would at least provide him with a clean set of clothes.

  His glass paused an inch from his lips. Why the fuck was he having this conversation naked again?

  He then blinked, looking down at his once more fully intact pants.

  He grinned, ignoring Reiza’s pinched expression as he took a fresh sip of his wine. Because despite the growing ache in his bones and needing to fight not to gulp for air like a fish as his muscles screamed for sustenance he could no longer provide… things were definitely looking up.

  “Forty percent,” Reiza said with a rasp.

  Eric blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the odd intensity in her voice. “I’m sorry?”

  A glaring Reiza took a shuddering breath. “I’m authorized to offer you a forty percent share of any hyperion core you seize or dreadnought you claim.”

  Eric gazed at her for long, pointed moments. “I trust that holds to any ship I claim on your behalf? And fellow mercenaries or Andaar loyalists serving as cover or distraction won’t count against my cut, if I’m the one tearing fresh breaches into our foe’s ships, seizing their cores and engine rooms, and taking over their bridges.”

  Reiza’s nostrils flared. Eric could all but sense the rapid-fire communication she was having with her queen.

  “Acceptable. And Eric… it has to be understood. In no way shape or form are you to work for our enemies. Ever. That will be part of our binding oath.”

  Eric gazed thoughtfully at Reiza, swirling the rich red wine in its fluted glass.

  “With the understanding that Andaar isn’t actively threatening Earth or any planet I choose to call home…”

  “Of course your personal fiefdoms will be off limits. We’re not monsters,” Reiza snapped.

  “Then, upon our mutually forged and accepted accord, I promise not to deliberately hire out with any formally declared enemies of Andaar. But no retroactive bullshit. And I do reserve the right to serve as a diplomatic envoy if some party I have a soft spot for wants to sue for peace or terms or some other crap like that. And to be fair, if it’s not Earth, Blue Corp, or Sylvan Faction, then I doubt we’ll have any problems.”

  Reiza’s eyes flashed with heat. “That’s not how this works, boy!” She then stiffened, features schooled with careful discipline. “Fortunately, your allies and associates are on the other side of the galaxy. Blue Corp has only a minimal presence in this galactic quadrant, as much as they wish to expand. And we have granted them favored trading status for the scant handful of products they actually ship out here, in light of previous concessions. Thus, your requests are deemed… acceptable.”

  Eric blinked, before slowly raising his glass. “Then let us share a toast to future alliances. Should I ever feel in a mood for conquest with friends, or just taking a few unwanted ships out of the galactic equation, I now know exactly who to get in touch with, for some exceedingly lucrative privateering opportunities… for truly generous rates.”

  Reiza smirked, clinking her glass with his own, all warm smiles and sultry glances once more.

  “To the sweetest of alliances, my handsome young prince. And with the understanding that our, ahem, relationship will be exclusive, there are any number of palaces, villas, and continental thrones in need of rulers both firm and gentle, that my queen feels might suit you quite well… after our first successful dalliance together.”

  Eric couldn’t help grinning as he clinked glasses with the unquestionably attractive admiral. “I’m all about successful dalliances.”

  This earned a throaty chuckle. “Are you, now?”

  Eric took a slow sip of wine. “I can think of worse ways to pass the time.”

  She arched her eyebrow, gazing pointedly at his bluejeans.

  He flushed. “I’m perfectly normal sized.”

  “Of course you are, dear. Now, I have a ship to run and you’re no doubt are exhausted after carrying that core for so long, poor thing. Here, let me show you where the shower is.”

  A bemused Eric soon found himself being given a quick tour of the surprisingly extensive suite that did indeed include an absolutely stellar video display of their FTL warp drive travel, stars streaking by in rainbows of brilliant light, before the admiral, who had somehow changed out of her uniform in the split second he had been admiring the view, led him to a steaming hot bath the size of a Jacuzzi just waiting for him.

  “Hop in, Eric. The water’s perfect.”

  Eric happily did so, his bluejeans slipping effortlessly into his ES space.

  “I can’t help but note, Admiral Reiza…”

  “No need for such formality during our bath, Eric. Please, call me Lizzy.”

  Eric swallowed when gentle fingers pulled him into warm soapy waters. “That you’re um… in the bath with me? Naked… your uniform’s surprisingly good at hiding some truly spectacular assets, and with cute little horns slipping free of your curls?

  She chuckled throatily, her husky voice caressing his ear. “How observant you are. We call them buds on girls, Eric. They’re small, petite, and delicate. For courting, not combat. You can stroke my buds, if you want. They’re very sensitive at times like this.”

  “Like you’re stroking my important bits?”

  She winked. “You’re perfectly normal-sized important bits.”

  “Lizzy...”

  “Shut up and kiss me, you overpowered fool.”

  Eric, heart pounding as he prepared for battle of an entirely different sort, of course knew that this was a horrible idea on so many levels. But he couldn’t clearly think of even one when their lips locked and Admiral Reiza happily showed him just how skilled a negotiator she truly was.