DAY ONE

It is Friday afternoon, January 3rd, 2020. Residual fireworks burst outside the Fortizar window and the sounds of revelry echo across the strange, watery miasma of Anoikis. In his office sits Mark Resurrectus, CEO and Chief Propagandist of J-space’s newest upstart band of shit-stirrers, the Holey Roamin’ Empire. He leans back in his chair, half empty bottle of Jose resting idly on his desk. One foot sits beside it, and the other taps a tune on the floor as Mark murmurs and stutters through his post-celebratory drunken stupor.

The door to the office pings. Mark is shaken slightly as his eyes readjust. Standing in the doorway is one Titis Labienus, ROAMA’s Director of Special Projects and well known ideas man. Mark spins in his chair to face the door, his glass raised in half-salute.

“Tits, you old dog,” he said through a glazed pseudosmile. “Whaddya say there, kid. What’s the news, what’s the word. Tell me the good stuff.”

Titis rolls his eyes. He never wanted this job - it was thrust upon him and, in a moment of weakness, he had agreed to take it. He occasionally considers it his greatest regret.

“Visitor for you, bossman,” he says. He steps aside and two figures come into view. Mark squints for no reason. Beside Titis stands Spinzy and Teacher, well known acquaintances of the ROAMA mob, as well as famous and dashing leaders of Be Nice, Inc. Mark adjusts his haphazardly assembled wardrobe and stands quickly, nearly falling sideways as he struggles to land on his own feet.

“Spinster! Torchick! How’s it going?”

Spinzy shakes her head. “That’s not my name and you know that.”

Mark nods unknowingly. “Yes, of course. Just a joke, obviously, little bit of humor thrown in there. Like to break the ice, you know.” He furiously flips through a rolodex as panic sweat forms on his brow.

“This is Spinzy and Teacher, Mark,” Titis says, sawdust filling his voice. “They had an appointment with you, remember?”

Mark does not remember. In his mind’s eye he sees only Jose and a long beach with a perpetually setting sun. He drools slightly.

“Yes, of course, meeting,” Mark nods. “Right, ok, let’s get uh, let me do a phone call here, one moment.”

Mark slams his fist on the desk and the virtual assistant appears.

“Computer phone,” he says, “get me O HAI on the line, pronto.”

A phone rings in the next room. A few moments later, O HAI THERE enters, looking exhausted.

“I told you, you don’t have to call me. You can just shout, our offices are right next to each other.”

Mark continues nodding, noting a growing crick in his neck. “O HAI, Titis, you know Spinzy and Teacher.” Titis’ eyes turn blood red but he says nothing. “They’ve got something for us, some sort of business, some nefariousness no doubt.” He gestures towards some half-assembled Space IKEA furniture, whereupon everybody attempts to gingerly sit.

“Alrighty, Spinzy, Teacher, take it away.” Mark leans back in his chair. His hat falls to the floor but he does not seem to notice.

Spinzy stands. “We’re here today because we have something you may be interested in. A short time ago, our scouts indicated that a corporation living in a C4 wormhole may be on long-term hiatus. We’ve reviewed logs of their engagements and have a good feeling about what might be in that hole.”

“Things in holes, you say,” Mark says, stroking his chin. “Tell me more.”

Teacher hands them each a iSpacePad. “The wormhole contains a Fortizar, an Azbel, and an Athanor. We have reason to believe that at least the Azbel might be packed full of capital ship parts. We’re uncertain about the Fortizar or the Athanor, but we have high hopes.”

Spinzy nods. “Our reconnaissance teams are currently working on establishing hole control within the wormhole, but we’re meeting some resistance. Last night, one of our forward operating bases was reinforced by the group Dolphin Noises.”

“Dolphin Noises, you say?” Mark continues to stroke. “What’s a Dolphin Noise?”

Spinzy cranes her neck back. “EEE-HEE-HEH EH-HEH-HEH EEH-HEH-HEH.”

Everyone nods knowingly.

“So what’s your intent here?” Titis asks. “What’s your aim?”

“We want to evict the people who live here and don’t play the game anymore and run off with some fat fucking stacks of cash, mostly,” Teacher says. “If we catch a fight, even better.”

“My god,” O HAI says under his breath. “It’s a goddamn heist.”

“Right you are, space Swede,” Spinzy says. “Unfortunately, the ships we had stored in our forward operating base are currently inaccessible while the structure is reinforced. If you’re interested, we’d ask for your support in defending our base, and also shooting big red lasers at the three structures in that wormhole.”

“Big red lasers?” Mark inquires.

“Yes, the big red ones. The ones that go herrberrberrberrberrberr,” Teacher says. She forms a triangle using her thumbs and index fingers. “You know, the ones that come out of the triangle ships.”

“The triangle ships,” Mark says quietly. “Yes, we’ve heard rumors of them before.”

“You have three in your hangar right now,” Titis says.

“Rumors, yes…” Mark continues to nod.

“So what do you think?” Spinzy asks. “Sound like something you’re interested in?”

Titis and O HAI hem and haw. Mark spins in his chair.

“Evictions are sort of worn out,” Titis says. “They’re such a slog, and it takes so long to burn down structures. I don’t know.”

Teacher and Spinzy give each other a knowing glance. Using advanced space-swipe technology, they advance to the next screen of the space powerpoint presentation.

“My god,” O HAI says over his breath, “It’s a goddamn magnetar.”

“What? Magnetar? Possible loot pinata? Triangle ships?” Mark stumbles and falls out of his chair. Gripping the side of the desk with a steely hand, he launches himself upright. A chute lowers from the ceiling, and a new hat falls delicately upon his head. “You two have got yourselves a goddamn deal.”