Oh shit. Oh shit. I’m going to mess this up. I’m going to screw up and we’re going to be dead in the water. I’m—
Titus slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to jar him from his panic.
“Don’t overthink it, man.” He gave an easy smile that felt wholly inappropriate for the situation.
“He’s right,” Zelda said, stepping up beside him and leveling her gaze straight into Kaiden’s eyes. There was confidence in her look. More confidence than Kaiden felt in his entire body at the moment. She stared at him as if she was going to pour that confidence into him with her look alone.
“Don’t overthink it? That’s strange advice coming from you,” Kaiden said, trying to crack a joke. Zelda nodded stiffly, then broke her intense expression for the slightest of smirks.
“You’re not wrong. But it’s good advice. Get out of your own head. You know what you need to do.” She nodded toward the open door. “So, go out there and do it.”
Titus punched a fist into his open hand. “Give ‘em hell.”
Thorne crossed her arms and smiled. “What he said.”
“I appreciate it, guys.” Kaiden turned toward the door. “I won’t let you down,” he said and strode forward.
“We’re all charging off to our deaths at Warden HQ soon, so even if you do, at least we won’t be around to remind you of it for too long!” Titus called after him, and Kaiden didn’t need to look back to know Zelda had given the big man a shove.
Kaiden found himself smiling as he stepped through the door and out into the great room of The Syndicate.
“You’re wasting our time, Odditor!” a voice shouted from behind the opaque glass of one of the countless booths that surrounded the room.
“We’ve heard this rogue warden out before. He’s just a delusional kid who thinks he can change the world.”
“Get him out of here!”
A chorus of voices shouted down at Kaiden and echoed around the room. Doubts, annoyance, dismissal – it was almost all he could hear.
Almost. But there was something else. A voice inside that told him he couldn’t fail. Not now. Not again. Too much was riding on this.
When he’d thought about stepping into the room, Kaiden had been nervous. But after that first step, after Titus’ antics and everyone’s confidence in him, the nerves had all fallen away. Let The Syndicate shout. Let them doubt. They were going to hear him out, and everything was going to change.
“Imagine the end of Nova Online,” Kaiden said aloud. Few people heard him above the shouting, but those who did quieted. He couldn’t see them through the glass that fronted each booth, but he could imagine them frowning at his words. He remembered how it’d felt when he’d first learned of Killswitch.
“Imagine a world without Nova,” he said, speaking louder this time, and more voices quieted.
“Ridiculous!” someone shouted. “NextGen would never allow it!”
Kaiden opened his inventory and selected Bernstein’s database. This was the first time they’d taken it off of the Veritas II and risked it in the open. But it was worth it. If they didn’t risk it now, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
Kaiden accessed the database and navigated to the folder entitled “Operation Killswitch.” As he did, he reached out and touched the projector panel in the center of the room. A hologram rose in front of him and all at once his view was projected into the air above, clear for all to see.
“Operation Killswitch,” Kaiden said, reading the words that had so recently become the focus of his every thought. The words that had changed everything.
“I’m sure you all remember the database I spoke of the last time I was here. Bernstein’s database. Well, until recently, it was incomplete. Thanks to a good friend and ally of ours, Odditor, we have completed it. And discovered the single greatest threat any of us have faced.”
There was a chorus of mumbling and sarcastic comments at that, but less so than before. Maybe the namedrop had bought him some time. Or maybe The Syndicate was starting to listen. Kaiden wouldn’t have blamed anyone for not believing him yet, though. He wouldn’t have believed it himself it he hadn’t seen the evidence. The evidence he pulled up now.
Internal memos stolen from the Party. First, rough ideas discussing the problem of Nova Online and NextGen games. The problem of Nova representing a space the Party couldn’t control. A space that could be used for dissent, for rebellion. A place free of Party censorship.
“Since its creation, Nova has been a thorn in the side of the Party. It’s lined their pockets, sure, but it’s also always concerned them.” Kaiden gestured up to the hologram hovering above him as he flipped through more and more memos, meeting minutes, and even a few video call recordings. Each bore official seals, timestamps, and were sealed with authentication certificates and once-secure but now cracked Party encryption algorithms.
“This is old news!” someone heckled.
“You’re right,” Kaiden said, turning toward the voice. “We all knew this. It’s what led directly to the creation of the warden program and players like – well, like myself.” He placed a hand on his chest. “But what if I told you the Party didn’t stop there?”
“NextGen has held the Party at bay since day one,” someone shouted and several other voices rose in agreement. “This is a non-issue. The Party has no power here.”
Kaiden’s only response was to flip through the Killswitch folder to a specific document, open it, and begin reading the text therein.
“‘The game Nova Online, as overseen by the NextGen Games corporation, is a potential breeding ground for ideological dissidence. Such a space, if not brought under the rule of law, could serve as an echo chamber to encourage dangerous and violent actions. It is therefore the opinion of this council that a plan should be conceived to
