Making Game: CH 158 – Playing The Board Right (Patreon)

"SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY IT!"

Mizah's voice tore through the damp air, high and frantic, cracking under the strain of raw hysterics.

Logan hung limp against the coarse polymer cords binding his wrists and chest. His breath rattled in his throat, shallow and ragged. His jaw throbbed where her palm and knuckles had struck him, and his shirt clung to his ribs, stained with dust and sweat.

He lifted his chin, his vision swimming slightly in the dim bulb light. "Let me go, Mizah. You can still walk away from this."

Mizah stepped back, her hands trembling violently. She raised her wrist communicator once more, tapping the screen to bring up the glowing red recording interface. Her voice dropped from a shriek into an eerie, desperate whisper.

"Say it," she pleaded, leaning in until her breath hit his bruised cheek. "Tell the recorder which patent you stole from our department. Just name the foundational schematics that let you build that seat."

Logan looked at her through swollen eyelids. "Why are you so obsessed with this project? Nothing good will come when that capsule is handed over to the public."

A loud crack echoed off the concrete as Mizah slapped him across the mouth.

"How dare you!" she screamed, her chest heaving. "Our division represents the cutting edge of technology in this Accord. A disgraced thief has no right to lecture me. You have no idea what it takes to survive in my position!"

Logan spat a mouthful of copper-tasting blood onto the dusty floor. A faint, tired smirk touched the corner of his lips. "Your position? That used to be mine, remember?"

Rage snapped whatever thin restraint Mizah had left. She lashed out with the heavy sole of her boot, kicking the metal leg of the chair with all her weight.

The rusted frame gave way, crashing sideways onto the concrete with a deafening clatter. Logan grunted in pain as his shoulder absorbed the brutal impact of the floor, his face pressed against the cold grit.

Mizah dropped to her knees right beside him. Her dark hair hung in tangled strands across her face wildly, her eyes wide with manic fervor.

"Unlike you, I'm going to keep climbing," she hissed, staring down into his eyes. "Unlike you, I'll actually make this galaxy a better place."

Logan coughed, wheezing against the dust clogging his throat. "A better place? Open your eyes and think for once. Do you honestly believe the Stellar Accord pours a bunch of credits into our research just to build harmless entertainment toys? If that neural link cannot be weaponized, they will throw your division into the incinerator."

"SHUT UP!" Mizah shrieked.

She scrambled to her feet, clutching both sides of her skull, her fingernails digging deep into her scalp. Her mind spun out of control. This was precisely what Senior Eevlas Zin had warned her about years ago. Logan was a master manipulator. He never accepted responsibility for his crimes. He simply twisted the narrative, deflecting blame onto the institutions around him.

Logan struggled to draw air into his bruised chest. "Mizah, listen to me. I stood exactly where you are standing right now. I realized the truth far too late, after I had already handed them everything I built. That was my mistake, and the Ministry used my designs to torture people."

"LIAR!" Mizah screamed, pacing in erratic, jagged circles.

Her panic flared into wild self-justification. She tried to tell herself she had done everything correctly. Perhaps she should have offered more credits to the information syndicate for a clean data theft. Perhaps she should have sent specialists to dismantle the physical demonstration unit at the expo. 

None of her paid spies had reported back, and the shadow operatives had failed to secure the schematics before this. None of that was her fault. Dragging Logan here directly was the only logical choice left to salvage her standing. It was a calculated, brilliant move.

High near the cracked ceiling, the ambient shadows shifted.

An invisible presence drifted effortlessly through the reinforced concrete wall. Misdreavus phased into the room, its round form hovering silently above the swinging bulb. Its glowing red eyes fixed on the frantic woman pacing below.

A strange, multicolored kaleidoscope of light pulsed outward from the little ghost, sweeping directly through Mizah's skull.

Confuse Ray struck her nervous system with absolute precision. Mizah froze in her tracks, her pupils dilating as the entire room began to spin in violent, tilting spirals. She took one clumsy step, her boots tangling together.

Before she could scream for help, Misdreavus drifted lower and exhaled a wave of heavy, soothing mist.

The sleeping wave washed over her frantic mind. Mizah's eyelids fluttered shut, her knees folded beneath her, and she collapsed in a dead heap onto the cold concrete floor, instantly succumbing to a deep, unconscious slumber.

A fraction of a second later, the outer brick wall shattered.

BOOM!

The reinforced partition blew inward with concussive violence, showering the hollow basement in jagged chunks of masonry and plumes of gray dust.

Through the pulverized opening bounded Arthur, his posture smooth, deadly, and perfectly centered within the muscle memory of the Ezio Auditore profile. He landed lightly on the rubble and scanned the room in a single sweep.

"Logan!"

Arthur crossed the floor in two blinding strides, dropping to one knee beside the overturned chair. "Are you alright?"

Logan squinted through the haze, managing a hoarse, wheezing chuckle. "Arty... I'm so sorry about this."

Arthur reached into his inventory and produced a heavy glass vial filled with a bright, luminous green fluid.

A standard Life Elixir from Stardew Valley had its limits, useful mostly for mending superficial cuts and minor aches. A Monster Hunter Potion operated on an entirely different scale of vitality restoration. For an ordinary, non-Solar civilian like Logan, a single dose was potent enough to instantly restore full physical integrity to peak capacity. A Mega Potion or higher could replenish the drained plasma, health, and stamina of an active Solar, making this baseline draught more than enough for the battered engineer.

Arthur popped the cork with his thumb and brought the rim to Logan's cracked lips. "Drink this down."

Logan swallowed the thick, herbal draught.

A wave of intense, revitalizing heat swept outward from his stomach, racing through every blood vessel in his torso. The pounding in his skull evaporated into calm clarity. The bruised tissue along his jaw stitched itself smooth, the dull agony in his crushed shoulder vanished, and his lungs expanded with crisp, effortless ease. Logan took a deep breath, feeling a surge of pure physical renewal that far surpassed the baseline energy of his youth.

With a swift flick of a hidden blade, Arthur severed the heavy polymer cords pinning Logan's arms. He took Logan's forearm and hauled him effortlessly to his feet.

Logan rolled his shoulders, staring at his own steady hands in genuine disbelief.

Arthur adjusted his hood, his sharp gaze dropping toward the woman lying motionless in the rubble.

"Who is she?"

…

Red and blue emergency beacons swept across the wet pavement, casting harsh streaks of light over the cordoned-off alley. Municipal landcraft blocked the entrance to the abandoned warehouse, their heavy turbines whining in a low, idling hum. Officers milled about in reinforced flak jackets, setting up perimeter tape and pushing back the few curious onlookers lingering past curfew.

Raja shoved his way through the outer perimeter, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He scanned the chaos, his eyes darting across the row of service vehicles until he spotted the lowered tailgate of an open-air medical landcraft.

Arthur was sitting there on the metal ledge, now sporting the sharp visual of his Zagreus profile. Next to him sat Logan, quiet and hunched against the chill.

"Arthur! Logan!"

Raja broke into an outright sprint, dodging a surprised logistics tech, and threw his arms around both of them at once. He squeezed them tight enough to rattle their ribs before stepping back to check their faces, his hands hovering frantically. "Are you two okay? Tell me you're alright."

Logan gave a slow nod. "I'm okay, Raja."

Arthur offered a faint, reassuring smile. "We're in one piece. Nobody got hurt."

Raja let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing a palm to his forehead. "Thank the stars. I shut our booth down early the second the comms went dead. What are you two still doing sitting out here? You need to be in a trauma ward right now. Why haven't they transported you?"

"It's really fine," Arthur said, holding up his hands. "Neither of us took any real damage. We don't even need a field patch."

"I don't care," Raja insisted, grabbing Arthur by the elbow to help him up. "Both of you are going with me right now. I'll get you both checked into the best private hospital in Luprime."

"I'm afraid we can't allow that, sir."

A dry, flat voice spoke from behind them.

Raja paused. He turned around slowly to face a municipal officer who had walked up with a glowing datapad tucked under one arm. The officer looked exhausted, unimpressed, and thoroughly bureaucratic.

Raja tilted his head, his voice dropping into a razor-thin calm. "And why is that?"

The officer tapped a thumb against the screen without looking up. "Standard procedural hold. For starters, your associate here, Arthur, has completely failed to provide valid regional identification credentials. Second, Mr. Logan is registered under a Class F civic tier, which requires standard post-incident holding for automated background clearance. Third, the supposed Solar operative Mr. Arthur claims intervened on their behalf has vanished into thin air without leaving a trace. And to top it all off, the other victim inside happens to be a senior analyst from the Ministry of Technology."

The air around Raja chilled by about twenty degrees.

Arthur watched Raja's posture shift. The frantic, terrified friend vanished instantly, replaced by the precise, terrifying machine of an unlicensed legal savant about to ruin someone's evening.

"Did you just say victim?" Raja took a deliberate half-step forward. He kept his voice perfectly level, soft, and polite, yet entirely suffocating. "Excuse me, Officer. I want to be entirely clear on your official position before I begin recording this conversation. Did you just look me in the eye and refer to an individual who actively orchestrated an armed abduction from a public commercial venue as a victim?"

The officer blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. "Now wait a second, sir, I am only summarizing–"

"Because if the Ministry of Technology classifies the violent kidnapping of civilians as routine civil service," Raja continued smoothly, cutting across the officer's words without raising his volume, "I'm positive the Judicial Oversight Committee would love to see that documented in your official precinct report. Would you like to repeat that assessment into my personal transponder, or should we summon your commander to confirm that state employment grants immunity for violent felonies?"

The officer's mouth opened, then closed. "You are twisting my words. Protocol dictates that when an unverified party–"

"Protocol dictates nothing of the sort," Raja said, stepping closer and giving the man nowhere to look except directly into his eyes. "Under the Greater Civil Charter, Section Four, civic tier status does not strip away fundamental rights to emergency medical transport. Class F or Class A, an individual exposed to a hostile event cannot be detained on municipal curb space without a formal filing of custody. Are you placing either of them under formal arrest right now, Officer? On what statutory grounds? Because if you are not, you possess zero authority to impede their transit."

The officer turned a dark shade of crimson, completely unable to find an opening in Raja's polite, unrelenting barrage.

While the officer was busy drowning in administrative fire, Arthur noticed Logan stiffen.

Arthur turned his head. Logan had his sleeves rolled up, his teeth gritted tightly as he dug the fingernails of his right hand directly into the synthetic seam running along his left forearm.

"Logan?" Arthur whispered, his eyes widening. "What are you doing? Stop that."

"Got a... security record implant," Logan muttered through clenched teeth, pulling at the edge of the faux-flesh until a tiny metallic click sounded beneath the surface. "Industrial grade. Logs the optic and audio feed every twenty-four hours in a rolling loop. Wipes automatically if it isn't dumped... urgh."

With a sharp grunt, Logan yanked a tiny, silver-plated micro-cylinder free from the housing under his skin. A bead of pale synthetic sealant welled around the slot. He reached out and tapped Raja's hip. "Raja."

Raja did not miss a beat. Without breaking eye contact with the sputtering officer, his hand swept down, caught the drive from Logan's fingers, and dropped it straight into his inner jacket pocket.

"I have the complete record of everything that occurred inside," Logan said quietly.

"Understood," Raja said smoothly, patting the pocket of his coat. "I'll personally review the footage and purge any proprietary studio data or irrelevant operational clutter."

The officer gasped, finally finding his voice. "Hey! You can't do that! That is potential evidence from an active crime scene! Tampering with or withholding incident logs is a class-two obstruction charge!"

Raja offered a thin, razor-sharp smile.

"Our enterprise operates under strict proprietary asset protection protocols, Officer," Raja said, adjusting his collar with utter composure. "That drive contains confidential neural architecture and intellectual property belonging to our private studio. The municipal department will receive the relevant security footage when, and only when, our internal legal team has reviewed its integrity and deemed it safe for distribution. Now, are you going to draw your sidearm and cuff three unarmed citizens on camera, or are you going to clear a path so I can take my partners to a clinic?"

"Alright, alright," the officer stammered, raising both hands to placate Raja. "However, you still have to account for the unregistered Solar operative who allegedly intervened on your behalf. Where did they go?"

Arthur tapped the control ring on his wrist communicator. A soft blue projection sprang into the air, resolving into the crisp, composed figure of Juno.

She wore the formal insignia of the Apex Guild across her lapel, looking every bit the poised corporate representative.

"Good evening, Officer," Juno said smoothly, her tone carrying the unmistakable weight of guild authority. "I'm contacting you as an official representative of the Apex Guild, acting on behalf of my client. The Solar practitioner who assisted Mr. Arthur is a fully registered operative within our ranks. Unfortunately, they had to depart the scene immediately under an emergency deployment directive. They are currently off-world, already committed to another active assignment."

The officer stared at the holographic seal of the Apex Guild, his jaw tightening in reluctant submission. Municipal precincts had neither the jurisdiction nor the appetite to challenge guild deployment protocols.

"Very well," the officer grumbled, entering the details into his datapad with sharp, irritable taps. "I will log this explanation into the official record."

Raja crossed his arms, his posture rigid. "Now, are we free to leave?"

The officer gave a stiff nod and stepped back onto the curb.

"I'm carrying this entire incident straight to the Galactic Courts," Raja added, his voice cold as ice. "Don't bother trying to bury the incident reports."

Leaving the sputtering precinct personnel behind, Arthur, Logan, and Raja walked briskly toward the sleek rental speeder parked down the block.

As they walked, Arthur covertly brought up a private text channel on his communicator and typed out a quick note to Juno: Thanks.

A fraction of a second later, Juno's tiny avatar in his interface sent back an amused wink, followed by a brief reply: Leave the follow-up to me.

Raja unlocked the speeder with a heavy click. His jaw remained clenched as he opened the door. "I say we pursue this to the highest judicial tribunal in the system. We bury them under formal complaints."

Logan climbed into the passenger seat, gently rolling his sleeve back down over the fresh patch on his forearm. "Don't be hasty, Raja. Like it or not, Mizah is still an active employee of the Ministry of Technology."

Arthur slipped into the rear seat, and the heavy passenger doors slid shut, sealing out the damp chill of the Luprime evening. The repulsor engines engaged with a low hum, lifting the speeder into the steady stream of orbital traffic.

Raja steered into the primary transit lane and let out a long, weary sigh. "You're right. The Ministry will simply cut her loose from the department. They will wash their hands clean in front of the press, claiming she orchestrated the entire abduction of her own rogue volition."

Arthur leaned back against the headrest, staring through the tinted viewport at the glittering academic towers passing beneath them. "Shit. That's exactly how they're gonna play it. We have to arrange things so their official excuses don't even matter."

Raja glanced into the rearview mirror. "You want to leak Logan's recording to the media?"

Arthur leaned forward slightly. "Can you distribute the file without the data trail leading back to Round Table Studio?"

A sharp, confident grin broke across Raja's face. "Senior Ratik gave me extensive lessons on this. I can definitely make it vanish into the public feeds."

Arthur settled deeper into the cushions, letting out a measured breath. "Then we crush them on two fronts. We take the market with the Caliburn VR seat, and we dismantle their credibility through the press."

Arthur brought up his wrist console, flipping through several confidential studio files.

Logan turned around from the front seat, looking between them with a furrowed brow. "If we launch an open media attack against a core ministry, won't that risk alienating our Caliburn from regulatory approval?"

Both Arthur and Raja went completely still.

The cold political reality of the galaxy hung heavy in the cabin. Like it or not, the entire civilized cosmos functioned within the tight grip of the Stellar Accord. If the Ministry of Technology felt backed into a corner, they could easily bury the Caliburn seat under endless safety reviews, import bans, and interstellar freight tariffs.

Logan exhaled slowly, resting his hands on his knees. "Hate the game, not the player, right?"

Arthur tilted his head, watching the older engineer closely. "Are you telling me to make a deal with the very people who framed you?"

"I'm telling you to take the pragmatic path," Logan answered, his voice steady and calm. "Like it or not, I saw pieces of my former self in Mizah back in that room. Decades ago, after they stripped my credentials, there were nights where I genuinely contemplated kidnapping Eevlas myself. I only refrained because I lacked the means to pull off the scheme. Mizah found herself in a corner, gathered the resources, and carried out her plan."

Raja eased his foot off the accelerator, glancing sideways at his colleague. "Are you truly comfortable letting them negotiate their way out of this, Logan?"

Logan offered a small, knowing smile. "We need a permanent seat at the table if we want to survive their game. I say we use this incident, and this recording, as our leverage to buy that seat."

Arthur closed his eyes for a quiet moment, weighing the engineer's perspective. It took immense discipline to turn personal trauma into strategic currency, yet Logan understood the machinery of the Accord better than anyone in their studio.

Arthur opened his eyes and leaned toward the front console. "Pull up the expo collaboration summaries early, Raja. I want to know who can become our genuine allies, and who will stand against us as enemies."

Raja swiped his console, expanding the compiled dossiers from their business meetings over the past two days. "From what I have reviewed so far, Grokk Stonebeard remains the most promising industrial partner on the list."

Arthur looked back out at the glowing horizon of Luprime. "Then we'll see."

…

The hotel suite doors slid open, and the quiet tension that had gripped the room instantly dissolved.

The moment Logan and Arthur stepped across the threshold alongside Raja, Lin Liseli rushed across the carpet and threw her arms around Logan's neck. Bem practically bowled into both of them from the side, while Kasavin, Ross Dalle, and the junior developers crowded in, their voices overlapping in a chaotic storm of relief.

"Are you hurt?" Liseli asked, her voice cracking as she pulled back to inspect Logan's face. "Where did they take you? What happened?"

Bem gripped Logan by both shoulders, his knuckles white. "Man, the moment the alarms blared and we couldn't find you on the comms, we thought the absolute worst."

Logan laughed softly, raising his hands to steady them. The Monster Hunter potion had worked complete wonders, knitting his bruised tissue and filling his limbs with crisp, effortless stamina. "I'm completely fine. Really. Arthur reached me before anything permanent could happen."

Ross Dalle placed a three-jointed hand on Arthur's shoulder, exhaling a heavy breath. "Thank the stars you found him in time."

Arthur returned the warm clasp, offering a reassuring smile to the room. The exhaustion of the past several hours still hummed beneath his skin, yet standing among his developers, surrounded by their raw, unfiltered concern, washed away the lingering chill of the encounter.

By the time dawn broke over the academic spires of Luprime, the story had already broken containment.

Whispers, shaky corridor footage, and fragmented security logs were circulating across galactic news hubs. The articles remained sparse on confirmed facts, relying on rumors that a senior hardware architect from Round Table Studio, known publicly under the moniker Agravaine, had been targeted in an organized abduction attempt linked directly to the revolutionary Caliburn VR seat.

The galactic net erupted, and nowhere was the fallout more explosive than the Avalon community forums.

Across every dedicated board, the distinct gaming cultures that RTS had cultivated responded in their own signature ways.

…

[Thread: WHO TOUCHED AGRAVAINE?!]>: ParsnipKing "Did you guys see the news from Luprime? Someone actually tried to kidnap Agravaine during the expo! I'd say the kidnapper needs to mine in the Skull Cavern until their knees break!"

>: IridiumQuality Replying to ParsnipKing: "Forget their knees. Let us lock them inside a Slime Hutch without a Slime Charmer ring. See how long they last when fifty purple slimes corner them."

>: BlueChickenEnthusiast "This is completely unacceptable. Agravaine is the absolute backbone of the team. Who wants to organize a retaliatory strike? I have three hundred Mega Bombs sitting in my inventory and a whole lot of built-up rage.(In Game)"

>: MayoEmpire "We must protect our developers at all costs. Sending digital get-well bouquets and hand-made plushies to the studio headquarters right now."

[Thread: Bounties for the Luprime Rats]>: ThanatosSimp "I'll send that kidnapper to Hades myself. Who is it? Drop the ID, address, or coordinates."

>: ExtremeMeasures_On Replying to ThanatosSimp: "Just point me in the direction of whatever syndicate tried to pull this off. They messed with the architects of the Underworld."

>: SkellysBestFriend "Let us see these corporate spies survive a real-life Pact of Punishment. Let's pool up a bounty. To anyone who figures out which corporation ordered the hit."

[Thread: Expo Security Malfunction?!]>: EliteFourWannabe "Why did the studio travel to Luprime without proper escorts? They should have hired a whole squad of Machamps to flank the development team."

>: HexManiac "Honestly, the authorities are completely useless. We need to crowd-fund a private security detail for them."

>: NurseJoyUnion "I'm just glad Agravaine is safe. A lot of artists on the boards are already drawing Chansey and Blissey wrapping bandages around him. Let us keep the positive vibes going and flood their inbox with support!"

[Thread: The Luprime Fire Alarm (Detailed Timeline Analysis)]>: HiddenBlade01 "I reviewed the public security logs and the municipal response times. The fire alarm was way too perfectly timed to be a random circuit malfunction. This reeks of a highly coordinated Templar like operation."

>: LeapOfFaith "Agreed. The security blind spots on that specific concourse match textbook extraction tactics. These corporate suits think they can operate in the dark to serve their own twisted light. They truly messed with the wrong brotherhood today."

>: AuditoreLegacy "Nothing is true, everything is permitted. If the Luprime authorities bury this investigation, we will just have to do our own digging. Let us compile a list of rival tech booths stationed near that sector."

[Thread: NEW TARGET SPOTTED]>: GreatSwordMain "New Urgent Quest just dropped, hunters. Target: The Syndicate Rats who ambushed our programmer."

>: PalicoChef Replying to GreatSwordMain: "Reward: 99,999 Zenny. Target Environment: Luprime Alleyways. Capture is strictly forbidden."

>: RathalosArmor "Sharpen your weapons and eat your canteen meals. We're going to track down the syndicate responsible and forge master-rank armor sets out of their hides. Nobody touches the RTS family while the Guild is watching."

…

Through five completely different genres, Round Table Studio had done something unprecedented. They had brought together millions of citizens across divided systems, shaping a passionate, fiercely loyal cultural collective that spanned the breadth of the Accord.

When the convention doors opened for the final day of the expo, the RTS booth became ground zero.

Crowds swarmed the perimeter, four times denser than the previous morning. They didn't come solely to test the Caliburn seat. An endless queue formed along the maintenance railing just to see Logan. Fans waited patiently for hours, stepping forward one by one to hand him gifts, tokens, and well-wishes.

Logan remained behind the counter, humbled and slightly overwhelmed. He firmly declined every gift carrying monetary value, turning away corporate gift vouchers, expensive rare metals, and sealed credit chips. Instead, he kept the personal treasures. He accepted hand-stitched beanies, carved wooden desk ornaments, and heartfelt physical letters.

At one point, a young alien girl, barely reaching the height of the display table, stepped up with her parents. With trembling hands, she extended a folded sheet of textured paper. Logan took it gently and smoothed it flat across the glass counter. It was a drawing of a round Chansey placing a bright flower atop the head of a smiling engineer.

Logan stared at the drawing for a long time, swallowing hard before looking down at the girl. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "I will keep this on my desk forever."

From a diagnostic podium near the back, Arthur watched the scene with mixed feelings.

On paper, the publicity metrics were staggering. The scandal and the public outpour had multiplied impressions for the Caliburn VR seat tenfold, driving pre-orders and licensing inquiries into astronomical territory. 

Yet looking at Logan's weathered face, Arthur knew that if he possessed the power to turn back the clock, he would erase the entire incident in a heartbeat. Commercial hype meant very little when stacked against the safety of his people.

Still, there was no looking back. The only direction left was forward.

There were new titles waiting to be built, new platforms to expand, and entire worlds waiting to be linked together.

Arthur tapped his wrist communicator, opening his internal Creator System profile to view the Pokédex completion screen. The first gen registry glowed softly before him, resting at the absolute edge of total mastery. Only four specific entries remained dark: Venusaur, Ditto, Mew, and Mewtwo.

He stared at the blank slots, wondering about the potential outcome. Would completing the entire original roster manifest the physical landmass of Kanto somewhere in the cosmos, just as the Mastery Cave had materialized on Dagma? His theories pointed toward that possibility, yet it remained an unproven hypothesis.

A soft step sounded beside him. Raja walked up, holding a sleek datapad and keeping his voice low enough to blend into the ambient chatter.

"The three units were safely transferred to Horus through our private route," Raja reported with a subtle nod. "They cleared cargo customs without raising a single inquiry."

Arthur gave a firm nod. "Good."

Whether the Asgardians used the technology to heal their traumatized comrade or unravel the acoustic frequencies of imperial torture devices, expanding their reach felt right. The mysterious cosmic level of his system continued to climb in the background.

Arthur felt little interest in reshaping the political hierarchy of the galaxy. His true ambition was simple: protect the people who mattered in his life, provide them a safe home, and build things that brought wonder to ordinary hearts.

He brought up the studio project roadmap on his screen, his fingers skimming past the active queues before tapping two encrypted concept folders resting at the top of the directory: 14 Fantasies and Bug Knight.

A faint smile touched Arthur's lips as he closed the interface.

A few hours later, the exhibition hall finally emptied out, the lights dimming across the massive convention floor.

High above the planetary docks of Luprime, the Millennium Falcon lifted smoothly from its berth, repulsor engines roaring as it carved a path through the upper atmosphere toward open hyperspace.

Destination: Friton.

Home.