"Let's say for a moment, that the observable world is a piece of paper, and any given war is the equivalent of one letter in the message of this paper. Based on this metaphor, I can't exactly say how many words we've written, but I assume there are a lot. Also, the spacing's probably 1.5 or something, I don't know. Can I have my money now?"

Telamon

"Sir," said the Great Justice's navigator firmly, "we've reached our destination." GoldBC looked up from some work he was doing on one of the bridge computers.

"Good. Prepare for negotiations," he said. Straightening, he sat back down in his command chair, staring out the windshield at the planet ahead. Oxiaris, from this far away, looked like a large, black marble with veins of orange splashed through it. At least, the night side looked like that; the day side was a patchwork of gray-white clouds with a bit of a pink hue. The planet had a thin dusting of rings that looped round its diameter, and these rings reflected the light of a nearby pale white dwarf sun. The effect was stunning, to be frank.

"Hail the planet," he ordered. Several technicians went to work, patching in a call to the planet's surface below. Gold waited until the view of the planet was interrupted by a burst of static, and replaced with the face of an enormously fat man whose green-on-green eyes stared intently into his. The fat man had a thin moustache, that tapered downwards until the majority of it was just five strands of hair. Behind him, frantic activity could be discerned.

"I have been expecting a call from you," said Oil Duke Hadad.

"Well, you didn't initiate anything, so we just sorta… called," Gold replied. "So, we're here to negotiate for the planet."

Shako laughed.

"I am sure the negotiations will go smoothly," he purred. "You demand the planet… and yet it has been predicted by my own scientific corps that Oxiaris will produce at least two hundred million tons of Tanan." Shako laughed again. Gold raised his cigar to his mouth, took a pull. Shako turned his head to the right briefly, then turned back, his eyes once again boring into the Great Justice's bridge. "With all those resources at my disposal… why would I give up Oxiaris?"

"We're asking you very nicely, Mr. Hadad," Gold growled.

"So? I have my empire to look after. I cannot afford to lose a bit of ground. Especially not ground that the saints have bestowed with such material riches."

"Could we offer you anything as a consolation?" Gold offered.

"No."

"Oh. Well," Gold began.

Suddenly Shako seemed to twitch, as if remembering something he'd forgotten for days.

"There is… heh, one thing you can give me," he said.

The link cut out with a loud flurry of static, then reverted to the dazzling view of Oxiaris and its beautiful crystal rings.

At that moment, from around those rings came several pyramids. They were gliding effortlessly through the space between them and the Great Justice. Gold squinted. They appeared to be Hadad Pyramid Ships, and they also appeared to be heavily augmented with a bizarre array of artillery, laser cannons, and heavy repeaters.

Gold knew they'd been had.

OOO

The first thing that Jack knew as soon as he woke up again in his chambers on the ship was that they were under attack. Again. The second thing he knew was that John was sitting beside him nervously with, for some reason, Helen and a bottle of cheap cola beside him. Jack sat up painfully, his shoulder aching. The bandages were gone, and there was a raised circular scar where the bullet had gone through and embedded itself in his bones.

At his sudden movement, John turned to him.

"Ah, fancy seeing you here," he said lightly.

"We're under attack," Helen chimed in.

"Oh, good, for a moment there I thought we'd just put the handbrake on really damn hard," Jack snarked. "Do we have a plan?"

"Not really," Helen admitted. "The attack came without warning. Five dozen of Hadad's pyramids came 'round the planet."

"Okay, we don't have a plan. Uh... do we have, y'know, escape... thingies?"

"Escape pods?" John said. "No."

"Bloody stupid way to design a ship," Jack muttered.

"We do have some ships parked in the hangar," Helen pointed out. "They should work for something. We'll make up a plan as we go along, yes?"

"I guess that's our only option," Jack said sullenly. "Sho'we consult with Gold first?"

"We can't, he'll just slow us down," Helen replied.

"Fine."

Jack swung himself over the edge of the narrow, hard bunk, and palmed open the door of his chambers. As he did so, he felt someone slip something over his shoulders. There was a weight in the right pocket.

"Your coat," John said, and grinned as he passed through the door. "Thought you might need it, bro."

OOO

The battle was not going well at all for the Great Justice. Railgun fire smashed into the capital cruiser's hull and no matter how many rounds of laser fire the deck cannons emptied into the pyramid ships it was little use. Even though five had been shot down, there were six more coming to replace them.

Gold sucked hard on the end of his cigar, and blew out a consternated cloud of smoke. He sat stiff in his command chair, pressing buttons and sliding his fingers up and down touch panels on the arms. Occasionally, a shot landed close enough to the bridge would jolt him, and he'd drop his cigar.

Gold was unsure of how much longer the Great Justice could hold up. Already most of the shieldblock generators were destroyed! Damn that Hadad! He wished he'd never come to command the ship; he'd led her and her crew into a trap. He rapped his finger on a panel, and seconds later he was on the phone with Phire, whose face looked agitated.

"Have you sent a message to Admin Island yet?" he demanded.

"I can't reach them, si-" Phire began. There was the sound of an explosion from above the cabin, and Phire's voice cut off abruptly.

"Shit!" Gold cursed. He cut the feed, which was giving him only static now, and turned in his swivel chair a few times. Then he halted his rotation and faced the front window again. "Shut all the windows," he ordered, "and close hangar bay doors! If we can't get shields back then, by gods we'll batten down our hatches!"

It was something else to watch as a gray metallic film began unfolding from the tops of all the bright pinpricks in the side of the Great Justice, and slowly one-by-one extinguish them. Gold watched as the front bridge window was obscured by ribbed metal. A large screen popped out of the ceiling, unfolded from its bent position, and fizzled on. Gold smiled. That would at least keep them hanging for a while, enough time to make a plan...

OOO

John, Helen, and Jack were almost to the main hangar when the corridor they were sprinting down was suddenly cast into darkness. Save for a dull blue glow from the direction of the hangar, all was pitch black. John stumbled, while Jack, unfazed, drew the Shiny Gun from his scarlet coat pocket and activated its flashlight. From a pinhole just below the barrel, hard white light stabbed out, fanning into a large circular area of illumination. Jack could see the hangar getting darker by the minute. What on Robloxia was going on? It seemed the corridor was being put into some sort of lockdown, but the hangar was exempt, wasn't it?

"They're closing the hangar," he heard Helen cry out. She was ahead of him in an instant, rushing through the hangar doorway with Jack and John on her heels. They ran for the closest ship as the twenty-five meter high hangar bay began, at molasses speed, to dilate. The closest ship was not one of the small fighters, but it was still small enough that five people would be hard-pressed finding room for everything. The ramp was up, which was a problem because the bay door was now only twenty meters over the bottom sill.

Helen was first to the ramp maintenance panel. She frantically stabbed at the ON switch until the screen lit up. Several options were present. As Helen pressed OPEN, she was greeted by a red screen and a shrill buzz.

"I need ID," she said, gritting her teeth.

"I can't believe this," moaned John. "We're doomed 'cause of this!" He sat down heavily.

Jack eyed the panel. He was sure he'd seen its equal somewhere on one of his many missions to track down Arthur Ipecac. It had been five months ago, and Ipecac was boarding a plane belonging to Amethyst Hook, the notorious exploiter who vaporized a public park and was still at large. Jack had done... what? When the SWAT team arrived, and the doors to the plane were closing, Jack had seen a panel - just like this one - and had...

He moved closer to the panel. It displayed its list of options, but he wasn't interested. He was focusing on the hairline crack between the screen and the rest of the device. Carefully, he contracted the barrel of the Shiny Gun, letting a thin fiber of metal ease its way out. This he slid into the panel. He fiddled around for a moment, going counter-clockwise.

"What are you doing?" Helen exclaimed as she saw what Jack was trying to do.

"Shut up," Jack retorted, "I'm working."

He shimmied the needle around a bit, until with a jolt it hit something. Jack smiled humorlessly and extended the needle until he heard a dull crunch. Then, retracting the needle, he carefully, diligently, and with a minimum of fuss shot the screen. The screen bent under the bullet's thrust, and popped right out of the panel aperture. Jack bent down over the exposed machinery, and gave a prod to a sensor he found that corresponded with a thick red wire. The ramp gently slid to a horizontal position. They clambered onboard, and shut the ramp again once they were inside. The inside of the ship was a boxy area. It was comprised of one rectangular rest area with cupboards all down both walls, two almost coffin-like compartments with guns mounted on their exteriors, and a tiny two-person bridge with a small fluorescent light fixture mounted to the dash. The ship seemed flat enough for a quick escape, around three meters tall including landing gear.

"I'll drive," Helen volunteered. "You boys take the guns." She vanished into the bridge. Jack squeezed into one of the gunner's perches, and sat down in the bare framework of a chair that was provided for him. He heard John smack his head on the doorframe, followed by the smooth thrum of the engines warming up. He glanced at the bay door. It was more than halfway down. He estimated that they had thirty seconds, tops, to clear the hangar before they were either stranded inside or crushed.

The ship eased its way forward.

Jack tried not to hyperventilate. As a rule he didn't hyperventilate much, especially when someone else was driving. But he was finding it hard, and he found it even harder when a railgun projectile (a superheated beam of tungsten) careened by and smashed into a ship just to their right.

The ship gradually gained momentum. It didn't retract its landing gear yet. The bay door continued to descend. There was now a seven meter-high slot for the ship to squeeze through.

Suddenly, the ship's port wing clipped on another ship parked closer to the doors, and with a disconcerting screech the ship tilted forty-five degrees and damn near doubled in speed. Helen had lost control of the engines, and was trying with little success to lift off from the ground. If they were very unlucky (that is, if they didn't crash and burn beneath the bay door), they would now have the option of falling infinitely to their deaths.

Helen's voice came faintly from the bridge, over the screech of metal.

"Can you do something?"

"What," both Jack and John shouted back.

"The one who's on the side closest to the ground... can you use the turret facing the ground?"

"I think so," Jack called. "There might be some trouble; the barrel's scraping!"

"Doesn't matter," came Helen's voice, "just shoot! This might just work!"

Jack blindly fired the turret into the ground. Shells cascaded from the side of the turret and formed a line along the concrete, a good contrast to the bullet holes now scattered around the place. The recoil from the turret began to lift the ship's floundering starboard side to a more accommodating angle. Helen gave a triumphant whoop from the cabin, then with relieved laughter sent the ship cannoning out the four meter-tall gap of the hangar bay's monumental door.