In TSO, asteroids are resource hotspots. Yields range from basic metals like iron and copper to the most sought-after radioactive plutonium or uranium. But being a "game," the developers liked to make even the most ordinary mining mission thrilling when least expected. That "spice" was now plastered across the whole starboard visor.
A massive humanoid figure—constructed of unevenly sized asteroids seemingly fused together—loomed over us. It was enormous, at least twice the length of the Range Falcon. Its glowing red eyes bore down on us like a predator sizing up its prey, and its cavernous "mouth" seemed to open into the infinite void of space.
"The Guardian's here?!" I groaned, naming the monster glaring at us.
This thing was infamous: an almost indestructible monstrosity that attacked any ship foolish enough to linger in its sight. In the game, it was an event monster that appeared when players stayed too long in one zone of an asteroid field. It served as a brutal deterrent to overmining. I'd thought it was just a simple game mechanic, but here it was now—real and ready to destroy us.
"Shit!" I dove into my seat, grabbing the manual controls.
Not wasting a nanosecond, I armed the starboard-side broadside turrets and fired after a three-second charge. The ship's visor flashed a blinding white as the beam projectiles struck, momentarily forcing the Guardian to recoil.
Freed from its vice-grip-like grasp, I slammed the pedals, accelerating the Range Falcon away as fast as possible.
"What the hell is that thing?!" Eva gasped, her face pale. "It's unscathed from a direct hit!"
I glanced at the ship's status display, quickly assessing the damage we'd already sustained. "Forget about fighting it!" I barked. "It's almost immortal! We'll just grab what we came for and get the hell out of here!"
There was no reward—hidden or otherwise—for defeating the Guardian.
Other hardcore players had already tested that long ago. A hundred top-tier miner players had banded together to challenge it, enduring a grueling 13-hour raid that cost more than half their fleet. Their reward? The cheap materials comprising its body: basic metals like iron, copper, and zinc. The disaster became a legend, and players quickly learned never to mess with the Guardian—or they'd suffer catastrophic losses.
I wasn't intending to make the same mistake they did. The Range Falcon was a bit faster than the Guardian; if we just stayed ahead of it, then we'd be alright.
'The problem is that we do have to stop a couple of times to acquire "that."'
I glanced at the 68 markers Percy had left on the star map. Taking a deep breath, I made a decision. "Eva, plot a course through the asteroid field that hits all the markers. We'll check every single one!"
"What?! Are you out of your damn mind?!" she snapped. "That thing's hot on our tail, and you still want to stick around to mine?!"
"We're not mining," I said firmly. "We're pulling entire asteroids into the cargo hold!"
"Crazy bastard..." she muttered, but she didn't argue further.
True to form, Eva quickly calculated the most efficient route, weaving through the asteroid field while avoiding collisions with larger rocks. Her precision was impressive as always.
Even before she finished, I began directing the Range Falcon to the first marker—the closest one. Fortunately, Percy had highlighted the asteroid with a glowing green circle through the VBA Module, so it was easy to spot.
"Locking on! Beaming in the asteroid!" I declared, slowing the Range Falcon to nearly a stop.
The tractor beam engaged, reaching out to latch onto the asteroid—a solid mass of about 10 cubic meters in volume—and began to draw it into the cargo bay.
"Fuck! Hurry the hell up! That rock monster's gaining on us!" Eva yelled, her eyes glued to the radar.
"I'm already waiting as fast as I can!" I shot back.
Of course, the tractor beam's speed was fixed. Its pull force depended on the object's mass, and 10 cubic meters of solid rock was no lightweight. The process dragged on at an agonizing pace.
"You asshole!" Eva snarled, realizing the sarcasm in my response.
Still, I wasn't sitting idle. I kept the Range Falcon moving closer—at the speed limit without breaking the tractor beam's lock—to the asteroid, while the beam worked, minimizing the distance and shaving precious seconds off the operation.
"Almost there," I muttered, glancing at the radar.
As time dragged on, the gap between us and the Guardian continued to close. Finally, after what felt like an eternity—15 excruciating seconds—the asteroid was secured in the cargo hold.
"Shit, fuck, shit! I'm definitely claiming hazard pay for this!!!"
Eva's voice was laced with panic as she kept a close watch on the radar. The distance between us and the Guardian had shrunk to less than a kilometer—practically within swiping range. As if on cue, its massive arm raised high, preparing to swat us like a fly or snatch us like a toy.
"Hold tight!" I shouted.
The moment the asteroid locked into place, I stamped down on the pedals, trying to push the thrusters as far as they would go. Flames erupted from the thrusters as the Range Falcon blasted forward like a missile. The Guardian's hand came crashing down, narrowly missing the tail of the ship. With its hand barely missing us, the Guardian's face contorted in rage.
"Next!" I barked, looking at the Star Map again.
But before I could even check the next target, my breath caught in my throat. A new, horrifying sight loomed ahead of us.
Eva quickly saw it too. "Damn it! There's another Guardian up ahead!" she growled, her voice filled with frustration. Without waiting for my input, she started recalculating our route.
Her hands flew over the console, and her mind worked at a breakneck pace. She factored in every variable—the time required to reach each asteroid, the Guardians' movement speed, and the mass of our targets. Her concentration was so intense it seemed like smoke might start billowing from her head.
Seconds ticked by like hours before she finally leaned back, exhaling heavily. "Course recalculated! Adjusted for the safest pathing. It's not pretty, but it should work!"
The new route was a dizzying labyrinth, winding and weaving in every direction. I glanced at it and immediately understood her plan. I grinned despite the chaos. "Great job! Let's grab those big-ass asteroids before more Guardians show up!"
The "game" had a limit that in any given zone, there should be only one Guardian. But here we were, staring at two of them at the same time. The scenario was so ridiculous that even the most experienced TSO players would say it's a glitch. And yet, it happened, staring us right in the eye.
Now, even if a third Guardian decides to join the party, I won't be surprised by it. I'm already convinced that all the missing "unluckiness" from the MC correction earlier on was manifesting as these bastards right now.
The cat and mouse chase started in earnest, with the "cats" increasing in number at random intervals. Sometimes they appeared as quickly as five minutes apart, other times as long as three hours. Each time a new Guardian joined the chase, Eva had to recalculate the routes she had painstakingly mapped out, making our escape path even more convoluted.
The one silver lining? These Guardians were dumb. If they had split up and surrounded us, we'd have been done for hours ago. Instead, they simply tailed us in a single, lumbering line, like oversized ducklings chasing after their mother.
"This is the last one...!"
After an excruciating 12 hours of unrelenting, nerve-wracking chase, we finally reached the final asteroid. I nudged the Range Falcon next to it and activated the tractor beam. The last 23 seconds while the beam pulled in the massive rock felt like an eternity. The dozen or so Guardians behind us were far too close for comfort.
But luck—or fate—was on our side. They didn't reach us in time. With a loud clunk, the asteroid was secured in the cargo hold. A triumphant grin spread across my face.
"Alright! Sorry, gentlemen, but it's time to close the curtain!"
Wasting no time, I pointed the ship toward the first waypoint—our original destination—and floored the pedals. This time, with no need for any more stops, I didn't hold back. The thrusters roared as the Range Falcon surged forward, blasting off again at maximum speed, toward infinity and beyond.
The Guardians quickly faded into the blackness behind us, their humongous forms fading until they looked like tiny spots on the horizon. Only once they disappeared from view did Eva and I simultaneously let out our own long sighs of relief.
"I'm never doing that again..." she groaned, rubbing her temples as if to fend off a headache.
Unlike me—accustomed to long hours of piloting under pressure—Eva had been working nonstop, recalculating our paths every time the Guardians complicated things. It was a mental marathon, and I wouldn't have blamed her if she'd made a mistake along the way. But her precision had been flawless, almost as if she knew the answers in advance. Another MC correction in action, perhaps.
"Honestly, I would've probably given up on claiming those asteroids if not for you," I said, true sincerity coloring my voice. "Thanks for all your hard work. I'll make sure to bump up your pay after this quest is done!"
She cast a look my way with her eye from the corner before settling back into her seat, closing her eyes with a weary smirk. "You better, or I'll report you to the Union for overworking your employee."
She was coming around; her quick wit and sharp attitude were starting to return. I chuckled low in my throat, shaking my head, and the tension in the cockpit finally eased. "Percy, adjust to cruise speed and set a straight course for the next waypoint," I ordered.
My work was only just beginning. Standing up from the captain's chair, I stretched briefly and then made my way to the cargo bay. One of those laboriously gathered asteroids was the true prize of this mission.
I would have to extract it, repair it, and—if I was lucky—install it right away on the Range Falcon.
"An endgame-level weapon this early in the game..." I couldn't help but grin at the thought of how much it would help us in our cause.