Airo went for a walk.

He was tired of waiting, and drinking was helping less and less as he woke up each morning to a familiar rhythm he had gone through for five years, in a run-down apartment, on a strange planet at the other end of the galaxy, during his old life seven centuries ago. Things were slightly different now, yet the main aspects were the same: he was still alone in his grief, dragons still blighted the world, and Ferrtau was still here. Not by his side this time around but hopefully at the tip of his blade in the foreseeable future.

He was drunk almost constantly now. He wandered along the walkways aimlessly, his mind barely held in a stupor by the oceans of hard liquor. People strolled about, enjoying the clear weather, their colorful garments and smartclos blending with the crystal facades in a lambent kaleidoscope. Airo was messy and unkempt, and only the integrated microionization emitters had prevented his power armor from accumulating large layers of grime.

Somehow, he ended up in a dark place. He glanced around stupidly. It was still daytime, yet the suns had vanished. There was still light, albeit diffused and dim. He made a few experimental turns. He couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"Boss... is that you?" a familiar voice echoed close by.

Airo craned his head and saw Zuckeroff's face, which was peering from a nearby doorway. He finally realized where he was: it was the cliffside cavern across the High Temple, the one with the public dormitories.

"Yeah," he said lamely.

"Hey now, come inside." Zuckeroff sounded worried. "Uh, that is, if you want to, Boss?"

"Sure," Airo said, and ambled toward the threshold.

Inside, Zuckeroff had variformed his bed into a large vinyl couch. The computer terminal projected a wide-angle screen on one of the walls. Empty beer cans and crumpled clothing were discarded randomly. The astrior was in the process of watching sports.

"Come, sit down," he said, gesturing enthusiastically. "You want something, Boss? I have beer and snacks!"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Airo asked dully. "I am not your commanding officer. I am not even a real commander."

"Sure you are," Zuckeroff said easily. He paused and threw Airo a look. "I may be a goof, but I know a leader when I see one. And you, Boss, are ten outta ten. Sure, you may be a bit scary at times, and, uh, quite crazy at others, but you. Are. A. Boss. Plus, your rank is real enough; at least Ki says so."

"Hmm."

"C'mon now, have a seat! This is the best part of the match!"

Airo sat down woodenly. He looked at the screen. The game was set on a huge, multi-layered arena, and the playing field was hovering high in the air. Two teams of considerable numbers vied for control over a trio of luminous balls. "What is this game?"

Zuckeroff slurped from a beer can. "Skycast! The greatest sport ever! Um, only there are no more dragons in it."

"Dragons?"

"Oh, yeah. See those airjets and automated drones? They used to be dragons with riders instead." Zuckeroff slurped some more. He held out his can. "Beer?"

Airo eyed the can mechanically. "Do you have hard stuff?"

"Ah, I don't think so," Zuckeroff said, lowering the beer can. "But I have onion rings!" he offered hopefully.

"I think I will pass."

They watched the game in silence for a few minutes. Airo blankly followed the futuristic spectacle. He was dimly aware of Zuckeroff gathering resolve beside him, as if preparing mentally for something.

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"So, Boss," the astrior asked after a while. "You're, a little tense lately."

"Shut up, Zuckeroff."

"You know," he went on, "when I'm feeling stressed, I like to play games or watch sports, just like I'm doing now."

"Uh-huh."

Zuckeroff shifted on the couch to face Airo. "Have you ever played comp games, Boss? I mean, not VR, but the really old stuff, like 3D-on-2D screens, actual mechanical inputs, and all that jazz?"

Sudden memories flashed through Airo's mind. He remembered his early days in the Starspire Academy. "I have," he nodded.

"Ah, flat-space was great," Zuckeroff said wistfully. "Of course, I was born centuries after it had gone out of style. Naturally, I clicked VR and AR, too, but I always liked the hardcore retro classics the most." He paused to drink his beer. "I was the best, you know? Even won some of the tournaments."

"Uh-huh," Airo murmured. "This is probably the part where you tell me just how good you were."

"Oh, yeah! I was the stuff of legends, Boss. Ripped those snotty hyperelites to shreds, even though I'm only your run-of-the-fabber regular transhuman. But that's not the point." Zuckeroff eased back, and looked at the screen. His voice became thoughtful. "The point is, um, that you're taking things too hard, Boss. Everybody gets it a little rough most times. Look at me and Ki for example: sure, we try to have a good time, but in reality, me and her are scared as dragonshit."

The alcohol fog in Airo's mind made it difficult for him to follow. "Why?" he asked.

"Ah, you see, Boss, we too were awakened from stasis," Zuckeroff said, his expression serious. "We're Sol Force all right, not like in your, uh, weird case, but both of us just woke one day aboard a starcruiser, without a single clue how we got there."

Airo rapidly sobered up at those words, and listened carefully.

"The last date I remember was 791 RE," Zuckeroff continued steadily. "Half a century before Kiana was born. Her last memory is, um, I think from somewhere around a hundred and forty years ago. The next thing we know, we're in space, alarms blaring left and right, automated systems reanimating us and other people, all from the Epsilon Corps." Zuckeroff's eyebrows creased. "That's another Sol Force special branch, like the Paladin Division. We specialize in, ah, special ops," he said lamely. "Ki didn't want to tell you this, Boss, because she thinks something really bad had happened. I mean, going from an elite commando to a future no-memory guy is a bit of a shock even for me. The point is, Boss, we don't know what's happening, either.

"Now, your case is even more, uh, bifurcated than ours. I dunno what's your nova with the Lightbringer. Honestly, I shouldn't ask. I became a soldier to look badass and have a blast. That's why you're the boss, Boss. You call the shots. Dudes like me and Ki, we get shit done, but we... we can't decide which shit needs doing first. To give an exa–"

"Why are you telling me this?" Airo interrupted, unable to grasp the astrior's rambling.

"Simple, Boss," Zuckeroff said, his idiotic grin dawning back on his face. "You gotta play computer games."

Airo balked. "What?"

"You gotta play computer games," Zuckeroff repeated. "You're stressed. Stress goes away when having fun. The way I see it, you've probably got into the stasis pod even earlier than us, so I'm not suggesting VR or, uh, later stuff, 'cause you'd have to learn that first. But learning's no good when you're stressed. So you should do something that makes you relax. You said you know flat-screens. Play some, Boss."

Airo watched mutely as Zuckeroff waved at the other side of the room. There was a small desk in the corner, with a comfortable-looking armchair in front of it. An antique computer case stood on the desk, connected to a solid-state display screen and peripherals.

"I asked around town, and found a gal who's actually from the Ground Age. She still plays Alpha Centauri," Zuckeroff said. He rose, and tossed Airo a bag of fabricated onion rings. "Here, have some snacks. The drive's stacked to the registry with excellent stuff. I'll get another room, this place is half-empty anyway." He paused by the door. "Have fun, and tell me later how it went," he winked, and left.

Airo stared at the closed door, clutching absently the bag of onion rings. What the void happened? He felt sober, and restless. He glanced at the old computer. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, not in his current broken state. He was sick and tired of the synthetic crap which passed for booze around here. Maybe he really needed to do as Zuckeroff had suggested and at least try to lose himself in his half-forgotten hobby.

The image of the Starspire Academy and its recreation commons flashed before his eyes again. The three of them had spent many hours on the ancient flatscreen terminals, playing together and testing their mettle against the other cadets.

He, Zenassa... and Ferrtau.

Airo shook his head. It was never going to be the same. Those days were forever past.

Yet at least he should try.

He rose from the couch, turned off the wallscreen, and slowly crossed the room. He sat down before the old computer. He launched the device, and was greeted by a familiar, if subtly different interface. He searched for a list of installed games. There was a large number of them, thousands of titles, of which he knew only a small portion.

He loaded up a game at random, and began playing.