Chapter 9: Deceptions Unraveled

Chapter 9: Deceptions Unraveled

The crew of the Scattered Gods had seen some weird stuff in their time, but Zeke? Zeke took the cake. If “cake” was a codeword for “absolute chaos in human form.” And today, oh today, he had a new trick up his sleeve that made Mason regret getting out of his cryo-pod that morning.

“Alright, folks,” Zeke said with that usual smirk, the kind that made everyone else look for an escape hatch. “Time to face the one thing no one on this ship has the guts to confront.”

“What, your hairline?” Kira shot back, arms crossed. Zeke’s smugness evaporated for just a second, but he recovered with a dramatic flourish.

“No, Kira. Your own deepest desires!” He wiggled his fingers in the air like a magician who knew no one was impressed but was too committed to stop.

Suddenly, the ship’s walls shimmered, and the air grew thick with possibility. And not the fun kind of possibility—like winning a galactic lottery—but the kind where your personal skeletons get dumped out for public inspection. Mason braced himself, knowing something ridiculous was coming.

The first victim of Zeke’s mind-magic? Mason himself. He blinked, and there it was: a giant, shimmering mound of gold credits, a beachside estate, a hover-yacht, and—oh good lord—himself in a flashy space suit surrounded by adoring fans. He could almost feel the ridiculous velvet cape swishing behind him.

“Wait… I want to be… a rich douchebag?” Mason asked, mortified. His mind flicked to the whole captaining a crew and fighting for justice thing, and it just seemed so much more important than… well, a golden toilet.

Zeke was cackling from the corner. “What? You’ve never fantasized about making it big? Come on, even you want to be a one-percenter.”

Mason rubbed his temples. “I feel like I need a refund on my life goals.”

Then it was Kwame’s turn. Poor Kwame. The calm, always-thinks-it-through Kwame. His deepest desire? To be the galaxy’s greatest hero. Except, instead of pulling off daring rescues, he was in the middle of a parade with an enormous float of his face (looking shockingly smug), waving at adoring fans. But every step forward seemed to crush more people under the weight of his heroic boots.

“Alright, this is just tragic,” Kwame muttered, staring at his oversized float-head. “Can I go back to pretending to be humble?”

And then Kira. Tough, no-nonsense Kira, who suddenly found herself standing on the bridge in a full admiral’s uniform—decked out with so many medals, it was practically dragging her down. She was shouting orders at her very obedient crew (who had apparently all been replaced by androids that looked weirdly like Zeke). But instead of looking powerful, she looked… bored.

“What the hell is this?” Kira sneered, turning to Zeke. “I don’t want power just to boss around idiots!”

“You don’t?” Zeke replied innocently. “I mean, you sure act like you do.”

She threw a wrench at him.

“See? Case in point,” Zeke said, dodging with a smirk.

As the illusions faded, the crew stood awkwardly, trying to digest the personal revelations Zeke had dragged out of their subconscious.

Mason cleared his throat. “So, we’re all greedy, power-hungry jerks, huh?”

Kwame raised an eyebrow. “I think Zeke’s illusions are more like cosmic Instagram filters—they show the worst version of you.”

“Yeah, but mine looked pretty good,” Zeke added, entirely too pleased with himself.

Kira turned on her heel. “That’s because your baseline is ‘terrible human,’ so anything’s an improvement.”

“Point,” Zeke said, raising a finger.

But Mason wasn’t ready to let it all slide into the void of space with their collective embarrassment. “Seriously, we’ve got bigger problems than Zeke’s stand-up routine disguised as ‘deep truths.’ We need to figure out who’s actually pulling the strings behind this mining op.”

Kwame nodded, thankful to be done with giant parade-float-heads of himself. “I’ve been digging into the financials, and something’s fishy. Like, Space Tuna fishy.”

“Isn’t that the kind that stinks up your cabin for weeks?” Kira asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Exactly.” Kwame pulled up a glowing display. “Check this out. The mining operation’s supposed to be for essential resources, right? But the credits are being siphoned off to private accounts. Big private accounts.”

Mason leaned closer. “How big?”

“Well, let’s just say someone’s space mansion has a spaceship garage the size of a small moon.”

“Wait, is it Zeke’s?” Kira asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” Zeke protested. “I’d never waste money on a spaceship garage. That’s for amateurs.”

Ignoring him, Kwame continued. “We’re talking serious players here—people who don’t care about the miners or the resources. They’re just hoarding everything.”

Mason rubbed his chin. “The same people who control everything else, then. Fantastic.”

“Oh no,” Zeke interjected, “I’m sure they’re lovely people. I mean, anyone who funnels billions to their off-world accounts while workers scrape by on barely enough oxygen… real salt-of-the-earth types.”

“Next you’ll tell me they have a space yacht named ‘Tax Haven,’” Kira snorted.

Zeke grinned. “Actually, I believe it’s ‘Tax Haven II.’ They had to upgrade after their original got too many parking tickets in orbit.”

Mason took a deep breath, his seriousness kicking back in. “So what do we do about it?”

Kwame shrugged. “Expose them, I guess? Take down the whole corrupt system? You know, the usual Tuesday mission.”

Kira crossed her arms. “And we’re supposed to do that after Zeke turned our brains into mush?”

“Pretty much.” Kwame shot a glance at Zeke, who was currently admiring his reflection in one of the ship’s panels.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Zeke said, catching their looks. “Now you’re all totally aware of your deepest desires. That’s a gift, really.”

“A gift we didn’t want, like socks for your birthday,” Kira muttered. “Except instead of socks, it’s the crushing weight of our insecurities.”

Zeke winked. “Insecurities are just future character development. You’re all growing. I’m basically the galaxy’s best therapist.”

Mason shook his head, half-laughing despite himself. “Alright, enough therapy. We’ve got a galactic elite to take down, remember?”

Zeke smirked. “Sounds like a plan. But first, anyone up for poker? I feel like I’ve got a winning hand today.”

Kira groaned, reaching for another wrench. “Deal me in. If I can’t beat the galaxy’s richest, I’ll at least take your money.”

As the crew set their sights on the shadowy forces manipulating the galaxy, their usual banter and bickering gave them the strength they needed. Sure, they were flawed, but they were flawed together. And if they had to take down a corrupt system while bickering like a dysfunctional space family? Well, that was just part of the job description.

And for once, even Zeke felt like they might actually win.

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