The Cosmic Palace
The Cosmic Palace never stayed in one place for long. Its location was on a need-to-know basis. There was an unspoken agreement between the Galactic Union and the mysterious owners of the luxury cruise ship; so long as they kept themselves scarce, the Grokuk enforcers wouldn’t come looking for them. For the most part, the citizens of the union found this resolution agreeable; the ship was out of sight, and therefore, out of mind. While there was at one point a rather serious push to investigate the illicit material ongoing within, the senator proposing said investigation accidentally fell out of a 30-inch reinforced titanium window, and the matter has not since been revisited.
The palace itself was a jewel-encrusted leviathan of decadent leisure. Its vast panoramic windows offered an unparalleled view of various nebulae, exploding stars, and many distant, glittering galaxies. Inside, it was a galaxy unto itself: a symphony of opulence and greed. One could hear the shuffling of cards, the rolling of the dice, and the rhythmic churn of fortunes won and lost. Every pleasure imaginable was catered to from stellar zero-gravity dining to sprawling, multi-floor hotel suites with a personal feed for every attraction within the endless bounds of the ship’s gaudy, jewel-infested walls. There was even a spa that could personally cater to the needs of any species or gender. But all of the previously mentioned attractions were mere window dressing for the true heart of the Cosmic Palace: the casino.
The Cosmic Palace, and by extension the casino, had its own set of rules. While the Galactic Union had strict laws against violence, theft, drugs, and servitude, a singular, inviolable law governed the Cosmic Palace: all wagers must be honored. And this wasn’t a simple matter of trust; the rule was forcibly etched into the mind of every ‘citizen’. As a requirement for boarding, each passenger agreed to have a special chip installed into their cyberdeck.
This special chip provided a neural interface that meticulously recorded and enforced the terms and conditions of all transactions occurring within the network. The system was both relentless and impartial. Adherence was involuntary and forfeits were to be paid immediately upon the conclusion of a wager. The chip, via system protocol, allowed, or rather enforced, the immediate transfer of assets upon dissolution of a game or wager.
Most transactions were typically monetary in nature. However, the chip was also capable of enforcing other types of agreements, much to the dismay of ill-informed citizens. For example, should one lack the credits to compensate the winner of an engagement, the system could, at the winner’s discretion, enforce servitude for a reasonable wage until the debt was repaid. Given the rather harsh reputation of the system, most citizens had the sense to avoid living beyond their means. A negative balance could lead to servitude or worse: deportation, and not necessarily to one’s home world.
The casino floor itself was a kaleidoscope of alien forms and technologies. The Glug, beings of shifting, iridescent liquid-slime, bounced gently as they gambled, a flutter of delight if they won, or violent gelatinous shaking if less favorable circumstances. The species was known for their less-than-legal enterprises, their gelatinous tendrils often dipped in the murky waters of bounties and interstellar trafficking. Alongside them, the Taizi, lithe and elegant with their smooth, sapphire skin, moved with a dancer’s grace, their siren-like voices weaving through the den. Revered throughout the galaxy for their unparalleled beauty and artistry, many found lucrative careers as companions and courtesans.
Then there were the Grokuk, hulking brutes with skin the color of dried blood and four powerful arms. Their facial features, coarse and unrefined, hinted at their common professions: mercenaries, enforcers, and, unsurprisingly, members of the Galactic Police Force, where their physical stature often negated the need for diplomacy. The Binell, a stark contrast, drifted silently amidst the chaos. Their skin was the pallor of fresh snow, and their faces were smooth, unmarred by mouths. They communicated through a complex sort of sign language. Their hands often blurred in intricate patterns that were difficult to follow; fortunately, the cyberdeck was an excellent translator. The Binell excelled in commerce, administration, and communications. They were known for their efficiency and great intellect.
And then there were the Earthlings. Humans. Homo Sapiens. Or, as the less friendly alien races often called them, Sokati – a derogatory term that mocked their relatively small, fragile bodies and their perceived lack of intellect. Humans, unfortunately, had cultivated a galaxy-wide reputation as tricksters. Unable to compete in a ‘fair’ fight, they resorted to cunning, deception, and underhanded tactics to compensate for their shortcomings.
Jennifer was an Earthling, and she was disliked by nearly every alien species within the Cosmic Palace. Not for any inherent malice, but for a far more irritating reason: she kept winning.
Jennifer had been aboard the luxury liner for the better part of a year, and in that time, she had amassed a small fortune, a sum that the average galactic salary wouldn’t reach in several lifetimes. Most suspected her of cheating, a natural conclusion given the widespread belief in human intellectual inferiority. Unfortunately for them, their suspicions were worth nothing. All results within the casino were considered valid unless proven otherwise. Until concrete, undeniable proof of cheating was provided, the infamous ‘trickster queen’ could not be harmed in any way. And despite countless covert recordings and observations, none had ever managed to capture her secrets. She was either a genius gambler or a serial cheater; either way, no one likes a winner in the casino.
Most other humans on the Cosmic Palace gambled occasionally for relatively small amounts of credits. Those who dared to play high stakes quickly found themselves either broke or, far worse, in involuntary servitude once their debts outstripped their assets. Jennifer, however, defied this trend.
“Sokati!” The voice was a resonant, gurgling rumble, like water churning over pebbles. Rozielzkra, a particularly large and viscous Glug, slithered his way to Jennifer’s table, his ooze bubbling with agitation and displeasure. “I demand you return the funds you stole! Your moves were suspicious! Improbable! Impossible! The analysis predicts a 99.99% chance of cheating!”
An almost predatory smile touched the edges of Jennifer’s lips. She didn’t even bother to look up from her data pad. Space nachos and space soda were trending upward; a smart investment that had paid dividends for her. Earthlings might not be the strongest or the smartest, but the galaxy had been unprepared for the might of their unhealthy yet addictive foods and their relentless corporate propaganda. Perhaps this was yet another reason the earthlings were incredibly unpopular.
“Roz, my dear, I would absolutely love to return your money,” Jennifer purred patronizingly, her voice a low, melodic hum, “But the system won’t let me. It says I won fair and square!”
“That is exceedingly unlikely!” Roz spat.
“But it only said 99.99%. That means 1 out of 1,000 times, I could have made those moves. This must be that one other time,” Jennifer replied innocently.
“Thief! Harlot! I will have you deported to Glug space! I shall revel in your servitude! No one crosses Rozielzkra!” Roz growled.
“Roz, babe, I’m trying to review my stock options. Can you believe space soda is up 212%?” Jennifer replied with an enthusiastic grin.
“I demand a rematch! Cheater!” Roz shouted.
“Oh, Rozling, baby, I totally would, but I’m just so busy right now. Raincheck?” Jennifer replied.
Roz’s form quivered with frustration. He knew Jennifer would never have the time. This was another thing the other races detested about her: after she won a round of games – usually just one, sometimes two – she refused to play again with the same mark or in the same game type for weeks, sometimes months. She’d identify an easy target, extract its worth, and then vanish into her personal suite, only ever resurfacing to prey on fresh, unsuspecting blood. It made studying her strategies, her ‘cheats’ as many believed, difficult. She took her profits and disappeared, giving her victims no opportunity for compensation.
“Coward!” Roz’s voice vibrated through the floor.
Jennifer finally looked up from her data pad, her blue eyes glinting. “Prudent, Roz. Not cowardly. You might want to try it before you get deported to Glug space. I hear your finances are not doing so well.” She flicked a dismissive hand, and Roz, his form deflating slightly, slithered away, muttering curses that were unintelligible to human ears, but Jennifer caught the gist of it even without the translation.
With Roz gone, Jennifer thought she would finally get down to business. Unfortunately, Jennifer’s carefully curated schedule was once again interrupted. It’s so difficult being popular, she thought.
A Taizi woman approached Jennifer. She was, needless to say, attractive. Even the Binell, ever stoic and focused on numerical calculations and paperwork, could not help but glance in her direction. This lady was of the most exquisite examples of the exotic race that Jennifer had encountered. Her skin was an impossibly smooth azure, luminous even in the casino’s unflattering neon lights. Her figure was impossible by human standards: her voluptuous curves met with an almost ethereal slenderness. She moved with the grace of a ballet dancer, yet her body held the curves of a courtesan. This was Talia, daughter of the Highborn, what could be best explained as a sort of royalty amongst her species.
“Sokati.” Talia’s said plainly. Her voice surprisingly clear and resonant, charming and disarming, yet paradoxically full of malice. She talked not to Jennifer but to a Sokati, a being unworthy of status or wealth. “I challenge you to a game of Zhija.”
Jennifer raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her face. Zhija. The game was an elegant, impossibly complex strategic simulation, somewhat resembling Earth’s 'chess' but with pieces that moved in vastly different, often counter-intuitive ways across a multi-layered holographic board. It was widely considered one of the most difficult games in the galaxy, a test of pure spatial reasoning and predictive calculation that most species found daunting. For a human, it was generally considered to be far too complex, an intellectual mountain beyond their meager capabilities. Yet somehow Jennifer had never lost a game of Zhija. Not once. Most denizens of the Cosmic Palace knew better than to challenge her at it, lest they not only part with all their money, but also find themselves deported to Glug-space as an ornament on someone’s wall.
Jennifer found the situation highly unusual. Her reputation was well-established. This foolish girl, she surmised, must be new to the ship, unaware of the grim fates of those who challenged the ‘Trickster Queen’. Jennifer decided to play coy, identifying perhaps yet another mark.
“You challenge me to Zhija?” Jennifer leaned back in her plush chair with an air of detached amusement. “That game is rather complex for a Sokati, don’t you think? Why would I agree to this?”
Talia’s purple eyes, pupils black like the emptiness of space, stared into hers. “I am prepared to bet 25,000 credits.”
Jennifer’s laugh was cold and sharp. It echoed across the immediate vicinity, drawing curious glances from nearby players and dealers. “25,000 credits?” She scoffed with another dismissive wave of her hand. “I wouldn’t bother to pick up 25,000 credits if they were lying on the floor.”
Talia’s composure faltered. “That’s… that’s all I have.”
“Then come back when you have more,” Jennifer replied, shrugging with indifference.
“I can bet for something besides credits,” Talia said quickly, her voice a little higher now, a hint of desperation in its tone.
“Bored now,” Jennifer replied, turning back to her data pad, enjoying the slow yet measured increase of her space soda stock. The rise of Galactic Coke was inevitable; while the Binell Health Administration helplessly argued that it was unsafe, they were unable to counter the simple argument, how could something so bad taste so good?
Sure, the other races lied, cheated, and stole in their personal lives, but the idea of broadcasting propaganda as “news” was completely novel to them. Jennifer, of course, found it hilarious. She saw nothing wrong with doing whatever it took to win. She wondered what would happen when the Galactic Union discovered bubble tea.
“Scared to lose, Sokati?” Talia taunted.
Jennifer looked up from her data pad at the flustered Taizi. Scared? Hardly. The girl was trying to goad her into a game, but there was nothing on the table. 25,000 credits wouldn’t pay her rent for a week. Yet the implication did gnaw at her. As if her success was merely a fluke. That she feared this tiny Taizi brat. As if. She turned back to Talia, her smirk widening.
“Scared?” Jennifer repeated, her voice deceptively soft. “My dear... err, what’s your name again?” Her neural interface quickly identified her as Talia. One of the many perks of being in the upper class, she could identify patrons at will along with their debts and earnings. Talia was a nobody. Daughter of the Highborn, yadda, yadda. Rich parents, sure, but obviously none of that money belonged to Talia or she’d have more than 25,000 credits to spare. Scrolling down further, Jennifer investigated her history on the ship. She’d never won or lost a game, so definitely a newbie. All in all, Jennifer was not impressed. An easy mark, yes, but one without anything worth taking.
“Talia, babe, listen, I haven’t been scared since that time a Grokuk tried to kill me with a tea cup. And wouldn’t you know it, the system sold his ass off to Glug-space. From what I hear, he’ll spend the next 50 cycles as a hood ornament. Needless to say, I’m feeling pretty safe these days.” Jennifer leaned back, her elbows resting on the smooth leather of her extremely comfortable chair, her legs relaxed on the fancy marble table in front of her. “And you, notably, are not as intimidating as a Grokuk.”
Her eyes swept the room, pausing on a Binell administrator silently shuffling paperwork in a corner, then on a pair of Grokuk mercenaries playing a boisterous game of high-stakes Flux-Ball. The murmuring crowd was quickly losing interest; Jennifer was once again dodging a challenge. This was hardly unexpected.
“Embarrassed to lose to a Taizi then?” Talia replied.
“Alright, Taizi,” Jennifer said, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, a dramatic and pointless gesture. The cyberdecks, obviously, transcribed her words to everyone in the vicinity. “I’ll play Zhija for 50,000 credits. Take it or leave it.”
“I already told you I only have 25,000,” Talia replied. She was quickly becoming exasperated, her tone icy as sweat uncharacteristically beaded on her forehead.
“Then go sell that pretty body of yours and earn the balance ,” Jennifer said, waving her hand toward the stage where many an unfortunate girl was forced to bear her secrets to the denizens of the palace. “Go on, then, shoo. ‘Entertaining’ what you Taizi are good for, after all.”
The stage, of course, was not a place that anyone willingly entered. Jennifer knew that. The Taizi were entertainers, sure, but they were courtesan. They were companions. They were, above all, respected members of the Galactic Union. Not... whatever went on on that stage. Jennifer’s comment was a grievous insult.
To perform on stage was a rare but sometimes enforced punishment for ‘zeroing out’. Usually, those working the floor were entertainers or indentured servants paying off their debts. Taizi and Sokati were the most popular ‘entertainers’ as it turned out. Even the Grokuk had reservations about their females, and the Glug were about as appealing to watch as a tub of jello. That being said, no one was immune to the enforcement of debt; even some males of the conservative Binell species had found themselves upon that stage on occasion.
“Not a bad idea, Sokati,” Talia replied. Talia lightly pushed Jennifer into her seat and stared at her directly, their faces mere inches away from one another. It was a gentle, non-violent gesture, but an insulting one to be sure. “50,000 credits. You can pay half your debt in credits, and earn the other half working the floor.”
A collective gasp rippled through the immediate vicinity. Whispers erupted, loud and agitated, drawing the attention of even the most engrossed gamblers. Working the floor, while relatively commonplace in the Cosmic Palace for designated servants, entertainers, and the unfortunate denizens that zeroed out, was not for people like them. Citizens of the upper class simply did not lower themselves to such penalties. Both Jennifer and Talia were recognized as such; Jennifer, with her recently amassed fortune, was considered to be at the very zenith of the social hierarchy, and Talia, with her body was adorned in jewelry and exotic clothing, could not be compared with a lowlife ‘commoner’. The idea of one of ‘them’ being subjected to the humiliation of the lower caste was unprecedented. Unheard of, even. Their kind simply didn’t DO that. They didn’t need to.
Talia glared into Jennifer’s eyes expecting her to protest and retreat with her tail between her legs. But Jennifer brought her lips close to Talia’s neck and slowly traced them towards her ear with a whisper. “You’ll dance on stage and service us drinks sans the clothing. And until you pay off your debt, your citizenship will be... revoked.”
The word revoked lingered in the air. Talia gasped. Jennifer’s suggestion was, needless to say, outrageous. Citizens had protections that differentiated them from the commoners and lower class. It was the reason why Jennifer was able to so valiantly taunt those that lost their fortunes without fear of reprisal; the system prevented any sort of violence or unwanted physical contact between citizens. No matter how much Roz wanted to toss Jennifer into the suffocating void of space, the system wouldn’t physically let him. To lose citizenship status was the ultimate humiliation; while the lower class were provided some mild protections, citizens being handsy with the ‘help’ was par for the course.
“Scared, Taizi?” Jennifer taunted, an uncomfortable silence between them lingering.
“I agree to your terms,” Talia replied, “on one condition.” She still hovered inches from Jennifer’s face in a dominant fashion, lightly pinning her to her plush cushioned seat.
Jennifer raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what might that be, my dear?”
“I want the match to be advertised on the main stage,” Talia declared, her gaze sweeping the stunned onlookers. “As a major event. Displayed throughout the ship. Every passenger, every crew member, every visitor – they will all see the downfall of the trickster queen.”
Now it was Jennifer’s turn for surprise. This wasn’t just desperation; this foolish girl wanted to punish her. Or perhaps she had a suicidal bid for notoriety. Nevertheless, the terms excited Jennifer. This would be a public declaration of her undisputed dominance. A final, undeniable proof that the human 'trickster' was, in fact, simply better than them.
And, of course, it also offered the unusual opportunity to parade her conquest. While she usually avoided her victims after extracting their wealth, she would stick around to enjoy the show this time around. It would be oh so enjoyable. Talia, dear, fetch me a drink, please. Talia, babe, do tell Roz to fuck off, would you? Oh, Talia, a lap dance, please. You Taizi are so talented at them.
“Done,” Jennifer said, her signature smirk coming to fruition. She extended a hand, not to shake Talia’s hand, an unpopular earth custom, but to initiate a cybernetic contract.
“System call: initiate contract. Jennifer of the Earth and Talia of the Taizi shall play a game of Zhija. Jennifer of Earth stakes 25,000 galactic credits. Talia of the Taizi stakes what is apparently her entire meager asset collection valued at 25,000 galactic credits. Additionally, the loser of the match shall, immediately upon the conclusion of the game, hand over her clothing to the winner, and her citizenship status shall be temporarily revoked. The citizenship status shall not be reinstated until 25,000 galactic credits are earned by dancing and servicing the patrons of this fine establishment. And finally, the match shall be held on the Cosmic Palace’s main stage and broadcast live to all public displays throughout the ship. This contract is binding and will be enforced by the ship’s cybernetic compliance system. Do you agree to these terms, Talia of the Taizi?”
Jennifer’s cyberdeck projected the contract onto a holographic interface shimmering between them. Talia, her face pale but determined, extended her own hand, touching the projection. “System call: sign contract,” she stated clearly, her voice echoing in the now-silent casino.
“System call: sign contract,” Jennifer replied.
Contract signed. Bet established. Enforcement protocol initiated. The ship’s omnipresent AI, a soothing, gender-neutral voice, confirmed the wager, broadcasting it directly into the cyberdecks of all within range. The bet was on. The game, a spectacle of humiliation for the entertainment of various alien races big and small, was set to take place on the grandest stage the Cosmic Palace offered. Its outcome would be fulfilled immediately without pause or reprieve.
