Gods of the Game #3, Epilogue

5 Years Later

The view from the top of the orbital tether was mesmerizing. Cloud cover far below expanded into a vast curvature that hid the bleak landscape of Patagonia from view. The horizon was indigo, bleeding up to black which occasionally flared the soft blue as the forcefield flared.

Lance stood at the platform’s edge, gazing out over the distant clouds. His being there felt like a miracle. It had taken several years to restore the launch pad to its original functionality; had automated drone systems not done continuous maintenance over the past century, it would no doubt have fallen apart.

But Virgil had deemed it optimal for their first deep space launch, and so it had been restored to its former glory.

Helm under his arm, Lance turned and looked up. Above him towered the Helios 1, his ship. It stood cradled in the docking bay, its dagger-like beauty surrounded by low-slung launch blast baffles, guidance rails, locked in place by huge mag-clamps.

The ramp was down.

The engines were whining as they ran through the warm-up cycle.

All he had to do was climb up, enter, and strap in.

But still he lingered. He looked back out over the cloudscape. His heart swelled with melancholy and excitement. Resolve and regret.

Planet Earth.

The main door to the transit hub that housed the elevator opened, and Jessie emerged. She was clad in an identical bodysuit, and for a second Lance allowed himself to believe she was coming with him.

But no.

He smiled and moved to embrace her. “Cousin-mine.”

“Cuz,” she said, her smile sad. “Command’s asked me to tell you to turn your comms on.”

“Any moment now.” He examined her. Gone was the anxiety, the raw edge. Now she looked fully herself, a Jessie whose potential had been fully realized. “Just taking one last look.”

Her smile was fond, resigned. “I still don’t get it. It’ll take you three years just to reach the Helios Gate. And you don’t even know what you’ll find there. Nobody’s received a signal in thirty years. The whole station could be dead.”

“Exactly.” Lance smiled.

“You’re insufferable.” But she returned his smile.

“I’m hungry for a different kind of glory. No trophies, no crown, no cheering.” He looked up into the black. “Just a dead station, a shrinking sun, and the dark. But out there? For the first time? My strength won’t be used to further someone else’s plan. I’ll apply it to something wholly of my own deciding. And I want to see what it’s like to apply myself to a mission that’s wholly of my own choosing.”

“It’s all yours,” laughed Jessie. “Just come back in one piece. I’ll want you to meet your nephews and nieces before they’re too old.”

“Things are going that well?”

Jessie laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m getting awful fond of him. Never would have thought it, but… yeah. Maybe Marex and I can make it work. But you’ll never know if you don’t come back.”

“I’ll do my best.”

They stood in silence on top of the world, smiling, and then Jessie touched her ear. “You’d really better turn on your comms.”

“Heh.” Lance smirked. “Fair enough. Take care, Jessie. Try to leave some oxygen for the other players.”

She winked at him. “Gotta keep the legacy alive now that you’re stepping away from the game.”

“Charn Chai would probably be proud if he wasn’t frozen.”

“Fuck dad.” But there was no rancor there. “Take care of yourself, all right?”

They hugged one last time, and then Lance pulled on his helmet, felt it seal with a soft hydraulic hiss, the HUD blooming to life in a cool arc across his visor. He climbed the ramp.

The launch gantry trembled beneath his boots—subtle vibrations transmitted from the tether’s tension regulators cycling far below. Frost steamed off Helios 1’s hull where the preheat coils fought the cold of high altitude.

Command out of Crux Prime began filling his ear with protocols.

Lance answered where needed, terse acknowledgments slotted between bursts of static; the signal always degraded this high up, even with the relay dishes tracking him.

Inside, the airlock slid shut behind him with a metallic shudder.

He moved through the narrow spine corridor and up into the cockpit. The thin, high-altitude light spilled in through the forward canopy, Earth curving below like a dark blue monolith.

He leaped lightly into the chair. There was less gravity this high; the harness rose automatically to meet him; and lay with his back angled toward the planet.

Helios 1 began to thrum as the engines deepened their ignition cycle. The whole frame vibrated in a way he could feel in his bones.

Command began the countdown.

Lance stared into the black.

The turbine pitch climbed, shaking the ship, and for the first time in his short, unwilling existence he felt himself move forward into a future that he’d wholly chosen for himself.

Thoughts:

This was a tough book to write.

Not because the subject matter was complex like THE LOST CUBE, but because the first two books failed to find any kind of readership. Perhaps progression fantasy and sports simply don't mix. I know the ending to Book #2 was controversial, but Book 1 had already failed to resonate with readers before I even published the sequel.

Which left me trying to rediscover the enthusiasm I'd felt when I first launched this series. And that proved surprisingly difficult 18 months after publishing Book #2. I had to find my way back into Chareon's world, and though I'd planned this outcome from the beginning, the joy of writing the actual matches had faded. Instead, I was left with the philosophical quandaries of the setup, and that's where I found my new interest.

Which is probably going to ruin this series for what few readers managed to stick with me thus far. Progression fantasy readers aren't exactly famous for wanting large doses of introspection and existential philosophy mixed in with the power-ups. Case in point: my Patreon has declined by almost 50% since I started publishing these chapters.

But regardless, it's done. I probably won't even announce its publication when it goes live so as to not invite further scorn and criticism. But I made me a vow to the moon and stars that I'd search the honky-tonks and bars and kill -

Sorry.

What I meant to say is, I made me a vow to the moon and stars that I'd finish every series I began, and with these chapters, with this Epilogue, for better or worse, I've made good on that promise for Krieg Chess/Gods of the Game.

Farewell, Chareon, Lance, Jessie, Virgil, and Clovinn. I wish things had gone better for you all, but together we gave it our best shot.

Now! Back to Throne Hunters.