A ridiculous plan

Director Nathers stood up as his guest approached. The Café table reshaped itself to accommodate the extra person, a chair growing up from the floor and new place settings formed. "It's good to see you T'bob, it's been a while. I was so pleased when you rang me up out of the blue like that."

Admiral Greir took the cap off of his dress uniform and set it down on the table. "Thank you. You know, you spend so much time in a bed you forget the worlds keep spinning."

As he sat down he looked around at all the young people, chatting with their guests, browsing miles and miles of virtual stores, downloading raw memory feeds from daredevil and fetish sites, recreating battles on worlds long gone, sifting through gossip feeds, purchasing tagalong rights to look out through the eyes and ears of their favorite celebrity, and sometimes all six at the same time. He ran his finger through his white hair. "Everything is so different now, I feel out of touch."

"I know what you mean. The crystronics are getting so fast now, at the rate these kids communicate, I feel like I'm in the middle of a hurricane when I go online."

"Yeah... kids," Admiral Greir said, his eyes going distant.

Nathers looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

Greir looked up. "No, it's all right. It's not your fault. I mean, it's not a taboo subject, it can't be. That would dishonour her."

"You know, Daillia and I still light a candle to her on high days. We've never given up hope that she might be found."

"Meh, I stopped doing that a long time ago."

They both sat there for a moment in silence.

"How old would she be now? Twenty-six cycles, right?"

Greir nodded. "Yes, next month."

"Well," Nathers said, trying to brighten the mood. "In honour of her birthday, I am buying you lunch today."

"Daan..."

"It's the least I can do. Besides, I might not have many more chances. If things keep going the way they are, I'll be looking for a new job soon."

"That bad, eh?"

Nathers nodded. "I meet with the board of directors next week. By the time they call a meeting, the decision has already been made. That's just how this kind of thing works."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well, thank you," he said, looking over the menu. "It was a sweet deal while it lasted. Then some kid came along and destroyed it all."

"Kid?"

"Long story. But the short of it is that I may soon be joining you in your lovely welfare tower. Perhaps we'll be on the same floor, we can play trategim and eat fuuns together."

"Probably not."

Nathers looked up. "Oh, really?"

"Daan, I'm coming out of retirement."

"That's wonderful."

"No, it's not," he said cryptically.

"Why?"

Greir lowered his voice to a whispered growl. "Lyssandra Bal."

Nathers' eyes became concerned. "The one who got away."

Greir nodded. "I think she found Ragnarok."

"WHAT!"

Everyone nearby was startled by the outburst. A few lost their games. Nathers apologized to them, and Greir looked at him sternly, asking him to be more discreet.

"I knew she was being bolder, attacking even core worlds, but I never thought that..."

"She came to my apartment."

Nathers set down his holographic menu. "Are you serious?"

He nodded gravely. "She took out the entire Corval defense grid, smashed through a dozen system patrol ships; took out the city shields, and fought her way up through fifteen stories of armed guards, just to steal my ring."

"I don't get it."

"That ring originally belonged to the ArchTyrant. One of six he wore when he was alive. After he was defeated, they were split up amongst the leaders of the Alliance as spoils of war."

"So what?"

Last month Lyssandra Bal attacked Impe, and while she was there, she led an assault on the planetary palace itself. She assaulted Rolandu Cordova and took the ring he had."

"So she's gathering them back together again."

"Yes, and the only one reason she'd do that is if she plans to use them."

"Holy trakk."

"Exactly. If she awakens Ragnarok, then not even the gods can save us this time."

Nathers ran his fingers through his hair. Many times he had thought about deleting the footage from his external memory, but try as he might, he just hadn't found the heart to do so. Seventeen gods had died that day. Millions of soldiers. Countless spacecraft. The image of the Trahzi tearing a hole in the very fabric of reality and banishing Ragnarok inside it was frightful to say the least. Whatever lay on the other side of that doorway was terrifying to look upon. A sea of eyes, claws, and teeth.

Nathers shook his head. "Suddenly my own problems don't seem so important. So, what are you going to do?"

"That's why I am on Central. I meet with the chiefs of staff in the morning. The problem will be finding her."

"Shadow-tech is nasty stuff. She could be anywhere."

"Yes, and it'll be harder than last time. She has no base to protect, no port to sail from. She could run rings around us for years, attacking us where she pleases and then disappearing without a trace. Even the oracles can't track her."

"Suddenly Nathers looked up with crazy eyes. "I have a wild idea."

Greir cocked an eyebrow. "I've come to worry when you get a look like that on your face."

"T'bob, how open are you to outside-the-box ideas?"

"...I suppose it depends."

"I mean like way waaay outside the box."

Greir folded his arms. "I'm a military man by trade, and we go by the book, so I'm inclined to say no on principal alone. But I'm also a desperate man who was threatened in his own hovel, so I'll at least hear you out."

"Okay, the first time Lyssandra Bal made an attack near the core worlds was two months ago, right? She attacked a starliner that had broken down near Central."

"Yes, it isn't widely known, but Glit Entayta was on that flight. Son of General Entayta."

"Really?"

"Yes, he had his father's ring, and she took it."

"Well, another passenger was a student of mine. It was the first time he had ever flown anywhere, and he was attacked by pirates."

"Sounds like bad luck."

"No, that doesn't even come close to describing it. What this kid has is so far beyond bad luck we'd need a new term for it. Yesterday his class went on a field trip to Chanterelle. It was the second time he had travelled, and they were attacked by pirates again."

"I heard someone almost got her."

"She got away, but was definitely singed a bit. And do you know who burnt her? That same kid."

Greir furrowed his brow. "What are you getting at?"

Nathers smiled. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think Gerald Dyson can help us."