You see it in the holo vids all the time. A man appears from the darkness as soon as the lights go on. It’s all spooky and looks like the start of a long planned out scheme. What they don’t show you is the two hours you spend in the dark waiting for someone to show up. Four different people passed by this door and I held my breath in anticipation each time, hoping it was the right guy. I have to pee and I don’t want to leave because I just know he’ll walk in as soon as I leave. I got this whole thing set up and I am not wasting it. Even if I need to wait all night, this is going down exactly how I-

  Oh shit someone’s coming in. You’ve rehearsed this. Not going to make the same mistakes as last time. Door opens and my perp walks in. As soon as he’s inside, it slams shut. Full lockdown at the press of a button. Lights go on. So far the presentation is going just as I imagined. My line is up.

  “There is a saying on my world. Follow the money. It’s not too relevant these days. A bit old fashioned. Here though, might as well be the catchphrase. Follow the money. I did just that. Thousands of boring old documents going back decades. Acquisition forms, financial reports, some personal requests you made that were meant to be kept deep under the table. All of it led me to the person who stood to gain the most from all these schemes. My death, the failed peace, all of it to serve your desperate last gamble and save everything you have inherited.”

  I stand up. Spin my pistol like those old westerns. Make sure he knows I mean business. Then I toss a folder full of some choice files at his feet.

  “Isn’t that right, Buenea’Venture?”

  The Centrian is shockingly calm. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised. Space God knows how many times he’d fought off assassination attempts just as bad as what I’ve been dealing with. The difference this time is he isn’t getting away.

  “Captain Tom. To what do I owe the honor of you breaking into my home and accusing me of crimes I have not committed?"

  “Can the pleasantries. Room has no listening devices. Just me and you.”

  Buenea’Venture pulls out some kind of cylindrical device. It beeps a few times then a blue light blinks on.

  “You are even more foolish than I thought.”

  “I aim to disappoint.”

  “Cute. So, what is the plan? Scare me into confession? Hope I see the error of my ways and turn myself in?”

  “Would be nice. Save me a lot of effort.”

  “Not on your, soon to be very short, life.”

  “Hard way it is then.”

  Buenea’Venture takes a long look around the room. Becoming more panicked as he checks each corner.

  “Where is Sklurmy?”

  “Do you play Chess?”

  “Answer my question you brute. Where is my Sklurmy-Skoo?”

  “I’m the one in charge here and you will answer me first. Do you play Chess?”

  “I swear if you hurt so much touch the ground he walks on I will-”

  “DO! You play! Chess.”

  Anger steams from every pore as Buenea’Venture sits across from me. Forget staring daggers, he’s staring intercontinental missiles. If there wasn’t a table in between us he'd have probably already taken a swing at me.

  “Chess. I heard about your win against the Beyond High Council Leader. Few have beaten Cometfeller. I am one of those few.”

  “Then this should be a good match. Here, I have the board all set up.”

  I pick up the box on the table, revealing a Chess board with pieces in place. Buenea’Venture went from unamused to confused to indignant in about a second flat.

  “What is this? How did you win a match when you don’t even know how to set up a board right?”

  On my side there are twenty pieces. Three kings, four Queens, six Rooks, four Bishops and three Paladins. On my opponent’s side, ten pieces. All pawns but his King and one more Paladin in the wrong color.

  “I’m just making a board that accurately represents our current conditions.”

  “This is what you think is happening at this moment? Foolish was a dire underestimation. You are nothing short of mentally impaired.”

  “More than you know.”

  “I am growing very tired of this.”

  “Too bad, I’m just starting.”

  I take a Rook and kill one of his pawns.

  “And what is the purpose of this?”

  “Metaphores and pageantry. Want to guess which of your failed plans that represented?”

  He’s not having nearly as much fun as I am.

  “That was your false strike team. They were going to bomb the hangar bay. Force the Cosmos vessel to have to stay outside the War Door for a few extra hours. Make sure you have plenty of time for the real attack.”

  I send a Bishop to knock down another Pawn.

  “That was the underground shipyard you used to modify an old Bruintil Corvette to look like a Union ship. A lot of under the table work at places like that. I’m sure they’d want a good plea deal.”

  I move my Rook and take another Pawn.”

  “That was the pirates you bribed with trade route info to do your dirty work. Bet that hunk of junk has already been impounded.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “This is Chess, is it not? Do I not get a turn?”

  “Nope. This is Chess played my way. And you don’t just get a turn, you have to earn it.”

  “Enough!”

  Buenea’Ventura stands back up and snaps his fingers. Security Mechanicals and automated gun turrets pop out from hidden panels all across the room. Suddenly I am surrounded.

  “Is this good enough for a turn, dear Captain?”

  “Not, even, close.”

  I snap. The Mechanicals and Turrets return to their hiding places. Leaving just me and the now dumbfounded Centrian.

  “How did you-”

  “The same way I got in. A good friend who could squeeze into the First Galactic Bank if she were so inclined being guided by an exceptionally talented engineer that saw your code as little more than appetizer.”

  I knock over another pawn.

  “Don’t look so shocked. I’m an Expeditionary Captain. This is what we do.”

  “I knew you would be nothing but trouble for me.”

  “Unlike Conqtor. Which is why you specifically requested him.”

  “That ignorant charlatine has changed little since he was a spoiled brat with a plastic blade. He performed exactly as I suspected.”

  “Until the Bathos attacked. At which point he proved all those stories about his skills were anything but an exaggeration.”

  “Those disgusting pollution sucking freaks were supposed to be extinct! They ruined everything I had been building.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. I knew there was no way he was behind the Bathos attack. They don’t exactly take bribes. It's just cosmicly ironic how good something that terrible was for me.

  “That’s the problem with grand designs. You never know when the Universe will decide that today is just not your day. Nobody plans for a meteor to land on them. It just happens before you realise.”

  Another Pawn down.

  “Just like that, Conqtor went from that defiant warmonger to a hero that did more than would ever have been asked. And lived to tell about it. That’s why you were so desperate to eliminate us. Must have hired every merc, assassin and bounty hunter in twenty systems for that big play. I suppose you are lucky most didn’t make it out. Don’t need to pay them now. Not that you could.”

  “What exactly are you implying?”

  “That you don’t have two microcredits to rub against each other. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

  “I am CFO of the biggest medical company in the whole of the Protectorate!”

  “Which has been losing revenue for over a decade. Do your shareholders know about that? You tried to hide it. Did a real good job of it, too. Fortunately I know someone who files thousand page paperwork as a hobby. I know a lot of people who will be disappointed to learn they won’t be getting their cut.”

  As I knock down another pawn, a special guest comes out from door number one. Superior only agreed to cooperate if I let him make a grand entrance. Let’s see what he came up with.

  “When I am done with them, they will desire anything but another cut.”

  Not bad Sup.

  “What is he doing here?”

  “I am cleaning up your mess and saving the reputation of the Interstellar Protectorate. Though I do have my thanks. Countless corrupted officials have been removed thanks to your incompetence.”

  I toss another file at Buenea’Venture. This one full of names.

  “You tried to pin all this on the Habruam. Even made Superior out to be the mastermind.”

  Sup grins evilly.

  “I am flattered you think me so underhanded.”

  I push down one more pawn. I can see Buenea’Venture searching his mind for something, anything to squirm out of this mess. I can see he thinks he found it.

  “Theatrics aside, there is one thing you have failed to consider. Motivation. I may be underfunded. There may be circumstantial evidence against me. However, you have nothing to directly tie me to this, do you? If there was that smoking gun, I’d be in magna cuffs right now. Why would I of all people desire to start a war? What is to gain?”

  “Oh we have motivation. After all, people don’t only buy bullets during a war. And the Centrain are not soldiers. You are far too benevolent, too giving to the community. You’d all grow fat selling bandages and bread at a ten times mark up while others, like the Habruam, bleed for you. At that point it doesn’t matter who wins. Union, Protectorate, it’s all the same when you’re rich and everyone else needs a helping hand.”

  Ah, a slow clap. The universal sign that we are coming to the end.

  “Bravo, bravo. You’ve figured it all out now haven’t you. Far too late to stop what is already in motion. Your Cosmos Ambassador will die, war will start, and there is nothing you can say to stop that.”

  “Not even that I’m going to blow up Superior’s ship?”

  “WHAT?!!”

  Sup turns his anger at me now.

  “Sorry Superior, there was a reason I couldn’t tell you that part. Buenea’Venture has already hijacked your personal yacht and filled it with enough explosive to break through even a Cosmos ship’s shielding. I imagine it is already on its crash course as we speak.”

  “Then save it!”

  “Too late. I already have my guns targeting it. Why do you think I asked you to clear all that air space?”

  There are now two people staring at me in utter disbelief. Buenea’Venture finds the words first.

  “Your vessel is several kilometers into the Economic Zone. Any weapon you fire would need to weave through tens of high rise buildings full of people, exit the hanger bay without interception and directly hit Superior’s Yacht, which is no bigger than 50 meters, and somehow not set off the explosives. Even if every legend I have ever heard about the skills of an Expeditionary Captain is true, such an attack is impossible.”

  “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  I stand up. Time for my killing blow.

  “The Cosmos are a far greater race than you, I, or him, will likely ever be in a million years. One of the many pieces of proof of that is their most iconic of weapons, the Sparkler. Despite not being a hostile race by nature, they built a weapon that can do everything you just claimed would be impossible. Move with a fighter’s precision at great ranges and immaculate accuracy. It’s a disintegrator meaning those explosives won’t go off. They will simply cease to exist. A simple and elegant solution that I have access to. Of course, like all things, there is a catch.”

  I pace slowly around the table, getting closer to Buenea’Venture with each step.

  “A weapon that advanced and specialized cannot be used to its fullest potential by a ship like mine. It would take days of calculation with its best computer systems to plan out something so complex. And even then, the success would be a coin flip. That is why I didn’t use the best computer system of the Moby. I used the best computer system on the Moby.”

  He’s got no idea what I’m talking about. Perfect.

  “Even as just a head, a Diegitron has more than enough computing power to make this dream a reality. He’s a real menace, that one. All my crew is in one way or another. But then again, that’s what I do. It’s who I am.”

  I get right into that Centairen's smug face for this one.

  “I am Expeditionary Captain Tom. Great Tamer of Monsters. And do you know how you tame a Monster? You become a bigger one.”

  The entire building shakes as a blinding pink light fills the room. Right on time like always. Deed spent hours planning that flight path. I asked him to make sure it got as close to this window as it possibly could. Trinkets fall off shelves, paintings unhook from the walls, Buenea'Venture's last Pawn tips over as does the King. My pieces stay up, though. Amazing what some magnets can do. He’s trembling below me, having fallen to his many knees. Like a fawn that could run from the hunter no longer.

  “How? How did you do this? How did you know my every move so well?”

  “We have had a spy in your circle for a long time. Of course, you knew that. That’s why you used the secret transmission channel to send all that fake evidence. Got to hand it to you, the upper command fell for it all. Hook, line and sinker. Good thing for me, you never found that spy. He was just a little too close.”

  A Salminne skips on in, sporting a brand new collar.

  “Sklurmy?”

  “I always hated that name. I prefer Rover.”