Out of Reach

       The Prince took security seriously—I was constantly escorted by three people and assorted animals. Not the most convenient setup, as I had to wait for the most stubborn or principled ones to change shifts or get distracted. No matter, I had time. I made sure of that myself by picking a planet far from the oyster as the next destination. Now, the asteroid, propelled by paper horses and birds, was drifting leisurely toward its target. Or so I hoped, since ideally, it wouldn’t exist by now. Let the Prince see for himself that the threat to worlds was very real. Though the positioning had nearly gone amiss. When the Prince asked where to head next, I scanned the space and got hung up. Human perception was entirely different and provided a picture of a flat black background with white or yellowish pinpricks of light. Space isn’t the same when you’re used to seeing and hearing worlds light-years away, hopping between systems and galaxies through the shadow side of the universe. The Fox immediately accused me of wriggling out of my end of the bargain. I had to think fast: if the asteroid travelled past a couple of nearby planets, I could triangulate its position in 3D space. The Prince narrowed his eyes in suspicion but agreed to the manoeuvre. The triangulation seemed to work. Time to catch my breath and deal with the adults. They were already dealing with me, but since staring at me was too dull, they’d gone back to poker, the only pastime a mismatched group of grown-ups could agree on. Drawing, playing tag or hide-and-seek like the Prince, the Fox, or the traitor gloomy was too childish for them. The more people around, the more they distracted each other, and the easier it was for me to study them, to nibble at their edges… We’d settled on the lawn by the porch, and I positioned myself with my back to the wooden stair railing—ostensibly to prevent escape, but really to cover my rear. The Fox had pretended to sneak up and snap at me a few times. And from there, I couldn’t see the Rose and the Prince sitting on the roof, stargazing, her smiling at him, leaning into his palm… Not mine. But no matter how much I looked away, my fingers still remembered the feel of her petals—soft, silken, something my serpent’s scales could never feel the same. Fine. Life adapts, and the Rose would get used to me eventually. Still… I plucked a wordless flower from the lawn while Hunter shuffled the deck, and shredded the bud, tearing the petals to bits, hoping destruction would soothe me. It didn’t. Fine, let the anger linger and keep me sharp. I wasn’t the only one on edge. Suspicious glances hadn’t faded, Hunter’s rifle still rested on his knees, barrel pointed my way, and the King kept screeching “Cheat!” at every bad hand. No wonder he was losing, with that… uncontrolled face. But the Businessman was really cheating. Probably a marked deck. Hard to decipher the system without illusions or subspace peeking, but not impossible. Aha—shaved corners on the aces, suits marked by dots on the card backs, high cards scratched with different nail patterns… Though sometimes, with Hunter’s deals, the Businessman got stuck with a bad hand. If he folded, I used his own marks to clean up. The Geographer was sharp enough to suspect something, but I’d casually bring up a collapsed mountain or shattered planet, and he’d rush to fact-check his encyclopaedia, only to remember his work meant nothing in this galaxy, and return back to the game all depressed and absent-minded. Besides, his cards reflected nicely in his glasses. And if the Hunter wanted to fold, a quick taunt about cowardice was enough to make him take any bet. Once I’d racked up enough “currency,” I switched tactics. I pointed out a marked card in the King’s hand and explained how the Businessman used it against him. The Businessman would’ve taken a skeptre to the neck, but the yawning Prince dropped down from the roof and asked what the fuss was about. He was cradling the Rose’s pot, and she shot me a look, scoffing that it was obvious who had caused trouble. Prince gave a half-hearted reproach to the Businessman, the usual to, then asked someone to monitor the asteroid’s course while he rested. The King volunteered, boasting that even mindless paper animals would obey him. He added rising to his full, ungainly height that the others couldn’t reach the roof anyway. The Businessman just chuckled, while the Hunter took the height jab personally. Amid the noise, the Prince and his menagerie slipped around the corner. Or into the house, but the broken wall blocked the view. Time to tend to my own affairs. When the Businessman cut Hunter’s straight with yet another flush, I palmed the queen from that flush, scratched it, and—voilà—it became a seven. An old trick: a satin-finish card with different prints on each nap. Sure, the Hunter tried to express his displeasure in action, and sure, the Businessman bolted. Taking his suitcase with him, unfortunately. And I had hoped… Hunter gave chase. Fine, I had another matter to handle. The Geographer sat nearby, polishing his glasses. “So, did you speak to the Little Prince about me?” I asked quietly. “What did he say? How do I fix it?” “I am afraid he doesn’t know,” the Geographer sighed, replacing his glasses. A pity. Fine, I’d find the cause and solution myself. And the Geographer was no longer needed. The chase vanished behind the house and went abruptly silent. The Hunter reappeared a minute later, grumbling that one swindler had exploited the fact that the “blondie and fox” were napping under the apple tree and were not to be disturbed by any noise. So the Businessman was alone, the others asleep? Perfect. Time to act. I tapped Hunter’s rifle barrel. “Still, more people, more fun… How about I talk to him in a way that’ll cure his cheating?” “To that swindler?” Hunter snorted. “Pigs will fly sooner.” “Wager?” I held out my hand. “Deal! What’s the stake?” “Hmm… A matchbox. From you. From me… Dunno, you pick.” He hesitated. Smart enough to realise matches weren’t a safe bet. Okay, and if I push? “Or scared you’ll lose?” It worked as ever. “As if!” He crushed my hand in his grip. “If you lose—uh…” Not waiting for his terms, I freed my hand and went after the Businessman. Quietly, to avoid disturbing certain sleepers. They were still out, curled under the tree. No sign of the Rose. The Businessman didn’t stay put and had crept to the asteroid’s far side. Spotting me, he panicked: return to Prince’s protection or bolt around the planet to his mates? No, I needed him alone. Copying the Prince, I waved open palms and edged closer. He ducked behind his suitcase. “I’ll scream if I have to,” he hissed after three steps. “You won’t. Business proposal.” I matched his whisper. Two more steps and full stop, no need to scare him further. “I want to help. How’s trade these days?” He stared, then leaned forward, but didn’t step out. “Closed. Dealing in securities now.” “How about reopening?” “How?” He nearly raised his voice, and I shushed him, nodding toward the house. No movement yet. “Simple. Exchange securities for goods. I’ve got debts from our neighbours, so let’s establish purely trade relations.” He grinned. Did he take the bait? At least he laid the suitcase down but didn’t open it yet. “What do you want?” First, I’d test the limits of his stupidity, greed, and inattention. “A multi-tool—one of those with a screwdriver, corkscrew, scissors, knife, all in one.” He drummed the suitcase lid, the sighed. “I can’t.” “Why?” I feigned disappointment. That was to be expected, but worth checking. “Sanctions. Certain goods can’t be supplied to hostile parties.” “Which goods?” Great. No need to guess. The Businessman listed them from memory. “Weapons of any types: blades, firearms, sharp objects, flammables, toxins, psychoactives…” Ah. Most of my list was out. “What about smuggling? For your benefit, not mine. Isn’t it sad, seeing you supply the Prince and his lot for free, at your own expense. Next thing, you’re a warehouse worker instead of a businessman. Or a guard. Or… gone. You’ve toured the home galaxy with the Little Prince and must’ve seen how creatures lose their lives after losing their purpose.” He hummed, rocking heel-to-toe. “So far, I’ve seen apocalypses start where you appear. So no, thank you very much, I like living.” “How long will you blame me for others’ mistakes?” I glanced back. Still unnoticed. The tree hid us from the King on the roof. But time was short. My shopping list wasn’t done. “Fine. What about a deck of cards? Not marked, just for solitaire.” He pondered, hunting for a trick. Finding none, he tried one of his own. “Five hundred thousand thalers.” A number plucked from thin air. Poker stakes had been three digits at most. “One and a half.” I played along. “Shop around, find cheaper.” “Sit on your case, wait for other buyers.” He scoffed, gesturing to the side where the house porch and other people should be. Not a good argument. “Still, I don’t see queues. And why would they need you when the Prince can draw anything for free?” He opened his mouth, paused, shut it. Time to press. “They already call you ‘cheat’ more often than ‘the Businessman.’ Keep it up, and you’ll lose yourself. Or end up in my category, under guard.” “Rubbish! Fifty thousand.” “Ten. Not thousand, just ten.” We settled on one hundred fifty units. The Businessman finally opened the case (press both locks while pushing the side rivets—noted), handed me a sealed deck, logged the sale. Next phase: the Hunter emerged, shaking a fist. I nodded and headed back. Behind me, suitcase wheels creaked. Once back at my place by the porch, I waited for the Businessman to settle, then struck: “Gentlemen, a proposal to curb cheating.” The cheated gentlemen brightened, though the Hunter pretended not to trust me. “It’s simple,” I smiled. “No money. Play for one-off wins or streaks, then reset. Games are merely conventions; if the majority agree to change rules, the minority complies or leaves.” “I can leave, but I will just take my de…” The Businessman trailed off realising he had just created his own competition. All he could do was save face, offer “loyalty perks” in the form of his person staying to play. But I suggested using my own clean deck, the Geographer and the Hunter eagerly agreed. The Hunter sulked, though. I held out my hand. “The wager. My honestly won matchbox.” He glowered, scanned the others for support, scratched his neck… then refused. “Safety first.” Really? I turned to the Businessman. “See that? Do you still expect payouts? You may write off your winnings as bad debt.” Naturally, the Hunter and the Businessman clashed over who was the bigger cheat. The Geographer buried himself in his book, and I decided to check on the King. But as I climbed the steps, a movement caught my eye. A red blot in the window. The Rose, asleep on the table inside, head drooping. I glanced back. My absence had been noted. The Hunter shook a fist at the Businessman and lumbered after me. No good. I jumped down and rejoined the group, handing my deck to the Hunter. “Here. I’ll honour my end. You may play in peace, I’ll stay close.” I moved to the wall gap. The sofa by the former window was visible from outside. I perched on the armrest, back to the group. Uncomfortable, but the guards could see me. Good. Let the backrest dig into my side, let my balance waver—if I turned slightly right, I could watch Rose undisturbed. She dozed, petals partly open, face clear. No one else in view. Briefly, delusionally, I could pretend she was mine. Very briefly. A draft must’ve stirred her, and she shivered, lifted her head, and spotted me. Her green eyes flew wide, a gasp that thankfully did not turn into a scream. I looked away fast. “Relax, coward,” I muttered. Hopefully inaudible from outside. “I get it. Won’t come closer.” “I’m not scared,” she whispered, though her voice shook. “I just don’t like you looking at me. Leave, or I’ll call for help.” Bad idea. Time to dissuade her. “Fine, I’ll go, but… You could save the world. While I admire you, I’m not destroying planets or biting people…” Not that one precluded the other. “…And I’ll stay quiet. There, princess, already shutting up.” She huffed but said no more. Tense silence hung in the air. I stole glances; she shot me irritated looks, lips pursed. But she stayed quiet. And so, if I made plans, they weren’t for doomsdays, but for taming her. She’d get used to me, let me closer… Maybe just out of her love for flirting. The near-idyll was shattered when the King spotted something resembling the star I had described and clambered down in a fuss. I hauled myself off the windowsill, my back stiff as a board, my mood settling back into its usual cold, corrosive hatred for everything. The King was clutching his spine too since his landing on the lawn hadn’t been graceful. I squinted skyward. Sure enough, there was a plasma sun—small, but still far larger than the pocket-sized stars Prince usually talked to. “Looks about right,” I nodded. “But why abandon the reins? Trust me, you don’t want to fall into that star. It has a no-nonsense gravity.” Before the King could retort or return to his post, the Prince emerged from behind the house, yawning. The Fox, of course, trailed after him. “What’s all the noise? Snake, if this is you again—” “We’ve arrived, apparently. Rise and shine,” I muttered. “And where the blast is the actual planet?” The Hunter exclaimed, already on his feet and stroking his rifle. “You’re not having us on, are you?” Everyone glanced around. “He’s right,” the Prince was calm, though his tone demanded an answer. I scanned the horizon and zenith. “Either it’s behind the star and we can’t see it now, or it’s at aphelion, reflecting no light, in which case we’ve overshot. Or… it’s destroyed. Happens sometimes, you know.” “Fine,” Prince replied, utterly unruffled. “We’ll check behind the sun first. But what even happened here?” Time to feed them some truth and some disinformation. “To put it short, the locals didn’t like their climate and tried shifting the planet for warmer weather, botched it, and ruined things permanently. Now at any moment it could either plummet into the sun and burn or veer off into deep space and freeze. If it’s still here, you’re welcome to save it, though I’ve no idea how. Your engines are not powerful enough. It’s a hefty planet.” Mostlytrue, just phrased… flexibly. “That’s not for you to decide,” the Fox sniffed, nose and tail up in the airs. “We’ve foiled your plans enough times, we’ll manage. Let me guess: you fed them the idea, then sabotaged it? Or made this all up on the spot?” “Suppose the idea was mine. It was sound. If they lacked the brains or skill to execute it, that’s hardly my fault.” “Oh, I believe you. Twice over,” the Fox grumbled as the Prince climbed back onto the roof to retrieve the reins. B613 began circling the massive star, and there, behind it, lay the planet ridged with winding yellow-brown crests. “Looks like a ruddy brain,” Fox remarked, fair enough. That tough little piece of sand! Though, given its proximity to the star, it was not for long. Then Prince set a course straight for it. “Hey!” I shouted from the ground. “Don’t anchor on the planet itself! It could get dragged into the sun any second and take my asteroid with it. Unless you’re keen to kill us all, in which case, carry on…” “Alright, alright,” Prince called back, set the asteroid adrift, and slid off the roof fetching Geographer’s spyglass in passing. Soon he spotted the barren shards of a moon. I explained (omitting key details) that the locals’ unskilled engineering had shattered it, adding that someone ought to stand watch to prevent B-613 from drifting off. A chance to thin the escort. The Businessman promptly volunteered. Coward. No, I needed him on the planet. I shot him a look: “Quite right. We’ll manage just fine exploring new markets without you.” He scratched his flattened nose tip. Let him stew. After anchoring the asteroid to the largest moon fragment, the Prince returned in a blue doublet and outlined his plan while sketching a bird: “Everyone goes except for the King, the Rose, and Shimmerling on watch.” The ex-monarch and ex-gloomy did not object. The Rose, however, revolted. She insisted the Prince take her to see a new world—and, with a sly glance my way, “to give someone an incentive to leave the planet intact.” I froze. I knew she was sharp and I liked that; sparring with a quick mind was twice the fun. But blackmailing me with her own life? That was a step too far. Had she pieced it together on the Planet of Roses, tested the theory at the Oyster? Or had the Prince tipped her off about my… weak spot for her? I caught the Prince’s eye and pressed his fear-button: “So you’ll risk her life again?” He frowned. Did he still doubt the danger? But no, the lever still worked. “My Rose, maybe you should stay? The asteroid needs guarding. Once we’ve sorted the mess, I’ll take you there for a picnic.” “An ‘incentive’ is one thing,” I cut in, “but if things go awry, I can’t intervene like I did on your homeworld. Besides, it’s sweltering down there. You’ll wilt.” The Rose dug in her thorns, leaves bristling, even feigning offence. Reason was useless. The Prince gave up but ordered the Hunter to pack two flasks of water, just in case. Small mercies.