Sweet wines aren’t my style. Pairing a sweet wine with chocolates is a cardinal sin on my world. Yet here I am, digging my way into Space Hell with each sip. My only alternative being dying of abject boredom between the twenty minute intervals it takes Mendas to make a single damn move. This is why in competitions they have a timer. But this isn’t a competition. It’s a "friendly" game between two good “friends” who are having a good time being “friends”. What's worse, I’m beginning to suspect this wine is non-alcoholic.

  “Hah! I just ruined your next four moves. Victory is all but mine.”

  I still have no idea what he's talking about. I just keep moving pieces at random and he always acts like I’m some kind of epic strategic genius. It’s getting old. You know what, this one is going to be deliberate. What's the board looking like? Man, I have lost a lot of pieces. Half my pawns are gone. Positioning is a thing, right? He’s definitely better off there. He’s got a Bishop threatening my Rook, A Rook about to put me in Check. That Paladin piece is threatening three guys at once. Why did he think I was making good moves? Whatever. If I just move my Paladin over here, he’ll be forced to move his Queen. That should take some pressure off my side.

  “Starting to panic? What a pedestrian maneuver."

  He… moved his Rook out of position to take a pawn. And I just took his Queen.

  “You clever ghoul. Now that’s the moxie I expected.”

  I think he’s dumb.

  “Tell me, are all Humans such skilled tacticians?”

  “Not even close. Honestly your average Joe couldn’t tell a Rook from their pecker.”

  “These Joes sound rather primitive. Is your race separated by elites and commoners so heavily?”

  “You're talking to one of those commoners. When I signed up I expected to be digging trenches or pushing a mop. I didn’t see myself as a Captain of a schooner, let alone a warship.”

  “And your leaders did?”

  “Fuck no. It was the Union's idea. And as much as I hate to admit it, they were right.”

  I take a big gulp, hoping pure volume will get me at least at the edge of inebriation. I really, really hate admitting that.

  “Seems you have a great deal of faith in the Union’s methods.”

  “Faith implies I believe in things for the sake of believing them. I trust the Union. I don’t have faith in anything. There is a difference.”

  “That being?”

  “You know, it’s a lot easier to pick someone’s brain if they are actually drunk. Hint hint.”

  “Terrible habit. Dulls the mind. I want to know the real you.”

  If these were at least 1% you’d have met him three bottles ago.

  “We’ve talked about me a lot already. What do you believe in?”

  Mendas swirls his glass.

  “I believe that everyone does what is in their best personal interest. Including you.”

  “How’d you figure that?”

  “You do not want war and neither do I. That is why we both want to find a peaceful solution.”

  “And what if what's in my best interest is to look like I want a peaceful solution so the raids will continue?”

  “Lucky for you, those Bathos were responsible for those raids. And now that they are destroyed, the raids will stop. Won't they?”

  I see your real game. Blame the Bathos who were defeated by a joint venture between the brave Protectorate navy and a few good Union heroes. Do a press tour or two and we'll all be the bestest of pals like nothing happened. A neat and tidy solution. Not happening.

  “I see a problem with that. Two, really.”

  “And what would those be?”

  Mendas moves his Paladin to threaten my Rook. Guess the game is back on.

  “If the Bathos were impersonating the Union, why would they attack suddenly and force our hands to be clasped back together? Why wouldn’t they let things escalate between us and attack only when we are at our weakest?”

  “Who can say what those savage’s goals were. It is well known they are hostile to all forms of life besides their own. We will never know their true machinations, now that they are all dead.”

  “Which leads to the second issue. No one will buy this. They saw that video. Most Protectorate members are fully convinced and chomping at the bit to start a fight. As for the Union, well, you and I both know Conqtor’s opinions on this.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I counter him by protecting the Rook with a pawn.

  “I will handle the riffraff on my side. I’m sure you can handle yours.”

  He adds pressure with a protected pawn line. No more twenty minute waits.

  “You know Tom, nearly every race has their own version of chess. Some details change but the fundamentals all stay the same.”

  “So I have heard. One of those great coincidences of life; right beside taxes and Swedish Meatballs.”

  I slide my Bishop to the far left corner.

  “Yes. It just shows that the most skilled and intelligent of every race are much the same. Dueling endlessly in this, the ultimate game of strategy.”

  He takes my Rook. I immediately counter with my Pawn.

  “Not even close.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  Mendas puts me in check with a Rook.

  “Chess is the worst possible representation of strategy in all the galaxy. I’d put Jenga over this.”

  I protect my King with a Paladin.

  “There is no better way to pit two minds against each other on an even and fair ground.”

  He brings up another Pawn.

  “Exactly. That’s why it’s so terrible. No real battle, in any form, is truly even.”

  I block with a Pawn.

  “We all have the same opportunities in the Protectorate. Perhaps the Union is not so equal.”

  He cuts off my King’s escape routes with a Bishop.

  “Anyone can be anything they want to be in the Union, if they have the dedication and skill.”

  I take a Pawn.

  “As your oh so Greater overlords at the top of the hierarchy show. You have been slaves to the same three races since the Union's foundation.”

  He takes my Pawn back.

  “Better than having everything you built being torn out under you in an instant.”

  I plant my Queen to threaten his Rook and Paladin, forcing him to choose.

  “That’s the thing about Chess. One move is all that is required to turn certain victory into utter defeat.”

  Paladin puts my King in check. With his Bishop blocking the other side and my pieces blocking the rest, there is no safe place for the King to go. Can’t move anything to block, either. There isn’t a single move that will save him.

  “An exquisite game. I’m afraid your strategies simply did not pan out. That is Check and Mate.”

  “What strategies? I was just moving pieces.”

  “Jest however you want. I saw through everything.”

  “There was nothing to see through. Just reacting.”

  Mendas’ purple eyes widened. As if he only just understood what every move was for.

  “That… no. How could you have lasted so long with no end goal? I have matched wits with the greatest players and they lasted not half as long.”

  “Like I said, chess is a terrible game for judging strategy. It only tells you how much someone wants to believe they are the smartest person in the room.”

  “And now I suppose you are to tell me that it is in fact you who are smarter?”

  “Oh Space Hell no. I’m not even the smartest person on my own bridge. Get a hundred humans, let alone any other race, all together in a room and I’ll be in the bottom percentile. I have never in my entire life ever thought I was even close to the smartest person anywhere. Save maybe a kindergarten.”

  Three fingered hands slam into the table, shifting the pieces.

  “Then tell me how! What is your secret?”

  Gingerly, I move each piece back where they once were. Restoring the board to its previous position, checkmate and all.

  “The Leand, your rise is very recent is it not? How did you do it?”

  “Answer my question.”

  “It’s not my turn to share. You tell me and I’ll tell you. Simple as that.”

  Mendas’ chair creaks as he plops his full weight upon it.

  “We shorted the Habruam stock. When their economy fell, we made a fortune. With that we financed hundreds of others. Picking up the slack and saving their economies which were soon to follow the Habruam in decline. Over militarization nearly ended the Protectorate. We Leand saved it.“

  “You profited off the misery of your allies. Doesn’t sound like you saved anyone.”

  “And I suppose this is where you give me the speech about the evils of profits and how we should all throw away our money to live together on a commune growing potatoes.”

  “You can’t get rid of money. Trust me, we tried. Everything has value and if there is no way to determine objectively what that value is, things get all underground fight club real fast. Now tell me, what exactly are the Leand’s value?”

  “We have half the Protectorate in our dept.”

  “And that makes you valuable, why? If war broke out, the Habruam’s investments would finally pay off. Even a short conflict would increase their power ten fold.”

  “Even a hundred fold would not match us.”

  “Perhaps if you stayed where you are. Your power is imaginary. A Chessboard with no pieces. If war begins, it’s those with the weapons that will show their value. The producers of food and fuel and medicine. Not you. And that’s why you are so determined to prevent a war. It is in your best interest.”

  Mendas swirled his glass again. Empty. The last bottle long since exhausted.

  “Leand and Humans are about the same age. We created fire at most a millennia earlier in your calendar. That is a very short time in the grand scheme of the universe. We were much like you are now. Unrefined, low grade, suffering peons to the more established powers. Had we joined the Union we’d be no better. Another slave to the ancient ones. Generations of hard work only elevate us to attack dogs like those rabid Rackter or guard dogs like those fearful Phibians. Perhaps an amusing oddity like your little furred friend. Here, we rose to a level you could never dream of. Perhaps humanity could as well.”

  “I’ve met humans. We ARE unrefined, low grade, suffering peons. That’s all we have earned to be. We are Pawns and we know it. I’m the highest rank of them all and I’m barely a Rook at best. I at least know my place. I’m not parading around, pretending to be a King.”

  “I am a King. And this friendship, like this game, is over.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I move my Bishop in the far corner. Mendas, no, Cometfeller didn’t realize that when he moved his Paladin to put me in check, he had left himself wide open. Giving my far left Bishop a direct line to assassinate his King. I see all five stages of grief strike across his blank face as I move my piece and knock his little throne to the ground.

  “Game, set, match.”