I sat on one of the beige sofas in the rented guest suite on the hub, waiting for Veda to join us by hologram, six hours after we respawned at our outposts after completion of the team event.

I took some centering breaths. It was just me, Sage, and Grandpa here. We were all subdued. It had been a long couple of days, a long couple of weeks, maybe a long half year since we'd been taken. The beige drabness of this suite was starting to get to me. There were fake flowers in vases in the corner. A soft hum of white noise. It reminded me of the funeral parlor where we’d had Abuela’s visitation, a place designed to look like humans lived there when really it was cold, sterile, hostile to life. Like space itself.

Sage was staring at a movie from the latest entertainment package sent up from Earth. This one apparently told the story of a couple of abductees who had been caught up in the reality engine exploit, but then managed to escape. Sage made occasional biting comments about just how much the writers and producers had gotten wrong.

I kept looking at her, then glancing away before she noticed. She wasn't dead. She hadn't been killed. I hadn't failed her. It wasn't real. None of this was real, except for the things that were, the things that mattered a lot. I hadn't failed Sage yet, and I wasn't going to.

I needed to start looking past this phase of the exploit and into the future. Phase Three loomed ahead. Ames had been vague with details, just insisting that we needed to get there. I’d been so focused on that, I’d lost sight of the bigger picture.

The thing was, our fate wasn't necessarily tied up with either this reality engine or with Earth. There was a big galaxy out there, and if what Mak'gar told me was right, we had a skill set not many other people had.

Veda appeared in the middle of the room, wearing a slinky red wrap that revealed her shoulders. Her hair was up over her head, and she looked distracted. "Sorry it took me a while," she apologized. “I was clearing up some business correspondence so that I could give this meeting my full attention.”

None of us answered her right away. She paced around the room, fiddling with her hands. She looked at me, and I looked away, not able to meet her eyes.

“We had a plan,” she said. “A gamma node. That’s all I needed. It’s what I had the budget for. But you changed up without even consulting me. Why?”

“We made it work,” I said.

“By raiding the Grignarians and stealing a lot of their gear! They lodged a complaint that nearly got us expelled from the phase. I’d have been ruined if that happened. I put a lot on the line for you —”

“And we’ve put everything on the line for you,” I retorted, standing up, feeling my temper rising. “We risked our lives to get to Phase Two, while you sat here having teleconferences and balancing your budget. I think we’ve got more to complain about here.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. "We should have been more honest with you," he said frankly. "We knew we were taking a gamble going for a delta tier node. Your strategy was right for what you needed to do, but we've got bigger things in mind."

Veda shook her head. "Like what? Phase Three? I guess you've heard a little bit about it, but you can't understand what's really at stake there. I don't have a license to back a Phase Three team. I don't have the kind of money it would take to make a serious bid for Phase Three. Those slots are controlled by the big players.”

“Like Proxima?”

"That's one of them."

"Proxima is behind Sicaris, isn't it?” I asked. “As well as the Vortali outfit, our alpha node neighbors. They’ve got their hands in a lot of pots.”

“Proxima is much, much more powerful than I am. I don't think you've pissed them off yet, but you certainly have come to their attention, and that's not likely to be a good thing. Taking a delta node, attacking neighbors… winning against those professionals when they came after your base….”

She sat down in midair. I guessed that there was a chair or stool in her own space that wasn't being projected here into this room. She rested her hands on her knees. “So what is so important to you that you’re risking my, and your, futures on these mad gambles?”

Sage was staring at the movie. Her device had a projector set into a wrist bangle that displayed the image in the air in front of her eyes. From here, it was just a blur of movement and color. I didn't think she was really watching it. That last fight had bothered her, too. It was the first time she had died.

I hadn't been able to speak to her about it. Watching my sister dissolve into a shower of sparks in front of my eyes because I'd been too focused elsewhere on the battlefield to protect her was an annoying pile of guilt in the bottom of my stomach.

Veda’s question hung over my head like a sword mid-swing. What did I want? Why do Ames said, without any explanation at all? Why not take what we had and get out of here?

“It’s rigged, isn’t it,” Sage said quietly, not looking up from her screen. “It always was. If it starts looking like we have a chance, you’ll change the rules. We’re not supposed to get to Phase Three.”

“Of course not!” Veda threw up her hands. “Aside from the fact that you Earth primitives would have no idea what to do with a reality engine. The whole reason that Reality Engine Exploitation Committee exists is because the engines are the most valuable thing in the entire galaxy. Before we got together and agreed to a set of rules, species used to go to war with each other or themselves for control of any reality engine in their space. If you got to space on your own and met this engine, it’d be about three standard weeks before Proxima or some other conglomerate showed up with planet buster bombs and took it away from you”

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Sage’s mouth dropped open. I tried to picture space war, and couldn’t.

Veda must have seen our shock, and pressed her advantage. “Entire systems died fiery deaths. The Exploitation Committee is here to prevent interstellar war. To keep you, and everyone else, safe. What's a few million primitives next to trillions and trillions of advanced lives? To our standard of living?”

“We’ve heard that before, from our own species,” Grandpa said quietly.

Veda shook her head. “It’s not my point of view. I'm speaking for them, not me. I'm just a small cog in this operation. My life and my family's lives are no more important to Proxima than yours are.”

“Then what happens to us?” Sage asked in a small voice. “When you’re done here, when you pack up and go home, what happens to us?”

“You've got a pretty nicely set up outpost right now. I can find a buyer for that outpost and make us all a pretty hefty fortune.”

“What happens to us then,” Grandpa asked. “We go back to Phase One, putting our lives at risk?”

“All of you have enough credit built up that you can hang out with your friends and family on Threshold or here on the Hub until the exploit is complete. Then you can buy a slot here, or at one of the other reality engines in the neighborhood. As long as you don’t get greedy, you’ll be able to live comfortable for the rest of your lives.”

“In an illusion.” I paced the room. The beige walls and white noise were really getting to me. This place was more bland, less real, than the worlds we’d be living in for the last few months. The reality engine’s imaginations were better than reality. No wonder they just plugged their surplus population in and left them.

Growing up on the Strip, I remembered a feeling of helplessness. There weren’t many options. You could be a rancher, a miner, or a bum. For anything else you had to get out. A lot of my classmates couldn’t picture ever leaving. They’d gotten into weed, or alcohol, or teenage parenthood, because there wasn’t anything else. Buying into a reality engine felt like that. We might exist, but we wouldn’t live.

“Say we did that,” Grandpa said. “What about the rest of our allies? Does the wealth extend to them?”

She hesitated. “They’re doing well. And there’ll be more opportunities in Phase Three to make money. The early farming levels are still relevant and we have such a dearth of crafters this time, your people should be able to make a living.”

“They’re not going to go back to risking their lives in Phase One levels,” Sage said. “We’re all tired of you aliens wasting our lives.”

“I’m not the one doing this,” Veda said tiredly. “I’m not your enemy, Sage. I know you've all had a hard couple of days. The outworlders see those games as something fun, but you all just got done with the Phase One missions where death is a lot more meaningful. It wasn't fun and games for you, was it?”

“I just don't know what we're doing.” Sage shook her hand, turning off the show and stood up. She strode around the room like an anxious dog wanting to go for a walk. “I don't know anymore. I just want to go home.” Her face fell and she buried her face in her hands and ran from the room to one of the bedrooms. She slammed the door behind her, but I could still hear muffled sobbing.

I tensed. “Should I —”

“Leave her for now,” Grandpa said tiredly. “Veda’s right. We’ve been taking a lot of risk and I’m not sure it’s paying off. Got any brochures about these galactic retirement homes, Veda?”

“Uh, sure,” she said. “I’ll see what I can find for you.”

“And I want to know about Phase Three. What’s the point, what are the rules, if we get in, what will we be doing.”

“That’s a big question. The Exploit Council still has to vote on the ruleset. Phase Three is all about taming the Reality Engine. Getting it to work with us, not against us. Converting from challenge mode to habitation mode. That can take a number of formats. Often it’s an enormous war simulation. Anything from lizard-mounted charges to space battles, with the biggest conglomerations acting as the generals. Sometimes it’s more of a giant Tactichess board, with each individual move being settled by a minigame of various sorts. My great-grandmother used to tell stories about the heroic mode Phase Threes she’d witnessed — those would be immersive simulations pulled from mythology or history, with a series of increasingly different challenges to fight through in order to approach the reality engine’s core. We won’t know until the council meets and votes.”

“But the outposts matter.”

“Outposts get transferred to Phase Three and serve a role there. As recharge and resupply points, or army strongholds, depending on the scenario. Yes. Your outpost is most valuable right now though. Once Phase Three starts, the outposts can’t be moved. So depending where you end up you might find yourself almost worthless.”

“We hold,” I growled, then glanced at Grandpa, “for now.”

Veda cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I’ll send you that information,” she promised. “I’m sorry.”

She disappeared, leaving Grandpa and me alone.

I sat down and stared at my feet. “We were so focused for so long on our goals. Get to Phase Two, start the outpost, get it built up, make it through that game. Now we don't have one. I think it's hitting us all hard,” I said.

“It feels like we've had the scales pulled back from our eyes and now we see what’s really going on.” Grandpa was nodding, looking more tired than I’d seen him in months.

“We need a future, Grandpa, if not for you and me, for her.”

“We're gonna have to do some thinking,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been good at dealing with teenage girls.” He looked away from me, staring at the floor. “I made a lot of mistakes with your mom. I've spent a lot of years wishing I could go back and fix them. I told myself I'd do it right with Sage, then I got sick. There was nothing I could do about that. I was going to be leaving her on her own at the most vulnerable time in a girl's life. Well, I dodged that bullet and now I find I'm more out of my depth than ever.”

I felt an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I didn't know how to reply. Fortunately for me, a chat notification popped up from Ames. I need you and your family back on Threshold as fast as possible.

Why?

I found the entrance to the Lotus Eater level a couple of days ago. It's worse than I thought. I need you to try to help me.

What about Grandpa? Thought you were trying to steer clear of him.

I'm done worrying if the system will take notice of us.

I looked at Sage’s drawn face, at Grandpa’s slumped shoulders. We’d just lost our first major fight ever. We’d watched each other die and known there was nothing we could do about it. And Ames had the gall to want more.

Veda had set us up appointments with the alien psychologists in the morning. I didn’t know if they’d be any good, whether or not it was a waste of time. But I didn’t know how to talk to Sage and maybe they’d have magic devices that made all this better. Not likely, but maybe.

I sent back, Not until tomorrow afternoon. We have some things to do up here.

Not acceptable, Ames said.

I’ll ask my commanding officer and get back to you. I minimized my chat and turned to Grandpa. “Ames's being all cloak and dagger again. I'm gonna get some answers out of him if I have to throttle him to do it this time. He wants to see us ASAP but I told him tomorrow, after our checkups.”

Grandpa nodded. “Sounds good.”

We went to bed after that. I lay alone in a dark room, staring at the ceiling, replaying all my recent deaths over and over again. The wolf man ripping my throat out. The time I’d been disemboweled by a space elf seconds after respawning. Mak’gar’s triumphant grin as he skewered me.

Maybe the lotus eaters were onto something.