The damage was nothing major, just a bit of bruising and a bloody nose. The amount of blood was just because the kid had been in VR and hadn’t been able to wipe it away.

They were playing on extreme mode with the safety protocols hacked so that the player would take some of the damage that the avatar took, in the form of intensified gravity waves to the body, instead of the more gentle ones that usually let you know that you were hit in a high-end VR simulation.

Well, a high-end military VR simulation intended to build muscle memory. That wasn’t the sort of thing that an arcade would usually have, but it made sense why this pod was so different from the others. The player was suspended in the pod, and their body moved with the avatar, the same as training to pilot a Mecha.

At least, this would be an easy fix.

Max made his way up to the front, where the manager was chatting up the worker at the till, and cleared his throat to catch their attention.

“Good afternoon. I am.” he began.

“Commander Keres Max, head of the Terminus Trading Company. We have your picture up on the wall. What brings you in today? Would you like to reserve one of our private gaming rooms?” The manager asked hopefully.

“Perhaps for another day. However, I can think of a few people who would like your extreme version of the new VR simulators.

That is actually why I am here today. The safety measures are set to military minimum, so they won’t break bones or kill the gamer, but they are leaving with bruises and blood all over them, and it has caused some of the neighbours to report a possible unsanctioned fighting arena.” Max explained.

“Well, that is, you see.” The manager stammered while the cashier hid their laughter behind their hand.

“I will let you know. It’s not actually illegal, as long as nobody takes more than a bruise and a bloody nose, but in the name of appearances, maybe lock the back door and make sure that they clean up before they go home for the night.”

The man’s relief was palpable even without reading his mind. “Oh, thank the stars. I paid a load to get those simulators in, and there aren’t many available anywhere. They make them for training the Valkia Police Forces, so they’re not usually available to the public, but these are old model versions.”

“Which is why a half-stoned teenager with a freeware code breaker can alter the settings every morning and turn the safety to a minimum.” The cashier added.

“It’s a great workout, though.” A voice informed Max from behind as the young Valkia stumbled up to the soda fountain for a refill, free with your paid-by-the-hour gaming pass.

“At least you remembered to clean your face before you came out. Some of your buddies have been wandering the streets covered in blood, and someone called them in on suspicion of unsanctioned prizefighting.” Max explained.

“Dude, how cool would that be? I mean, straight PVP, no fronting? I would wreck face.” The kid bragged, not realizing that Max meant outside the VR pods.

“I wouldn’t get too confident about that just yet. There are a lot of soldiers on the ship.” Max chuckled, and the young Valkia turned to actually look at Max more closely in the dim light.

“Commander Keres? Feth man, I didn’t know it was you. We’re not in like huge trouble, are we?”

“No, but as I said before, just make sure your buddies clean themselves up before they leave. If you want to load a PVP game onto the VR pods, that’s fine, but remember that all betting must go through the official gaming board to ensure that matches aren’t rigged and that the organizer isn’t cheating their clients.”

“We’re all broke anyhow. We dropped almost our whole allowance to get a monthly pass to the arcade since none of us had a top-end pod at home. I tried to convince my mom that it’s more comfortable than the bed since it adjusts to my wings better, but she wasn’t willing to part with the cash.” The kid sighed.

A full VR pod with the temperature-controlled, fully adjustable gel form, plus optional IV stabilization, for hydration and nutrition during multi-day gaming sessions, could cost upward of a hundred thousand Alliance Credits. Assuming that his parents were working somewhere on the ship and not just visiting, that could be from one to both of their annual salaries.

“Can you blame them? If I had the choice, I would be getting the first pod, not my kids.” Max joked, and the young Valkia burst into laughter.

“Humans are extreme, man. Valkia parents get all uptight once they have hatchlings, and then they forget what fun is.” The cashier added.

“Maybe. Innu parents are pretty wild too, though, so at least we’re not the outliers.” Max agreed.

“Oh, the Innu are nothing on the Harpia, though. I mean, most Valkia won’t even let their kids talk to Harpia kids just in case they get bad ideas from them. Harpia just let their kids do whatever and don’t watch them at all. Most Alliance planets assign them, watchers to make sure that the kids have food and stuff since the Harpia don’t do the parent thing.” The Valkia shrugged.

Max knew all about that, but he recalled hearing that there were Harpia here on the ship, so maybe he should have someone look into how their kids were doing, preferably before they followed a daredevil young Valkia out into traffic in an effort to get to school faster.

Max tapped it into his wrist device and found that there were already measures in place. It wasn’t that the Harpia were willfully bad parents. They simply had nearly zero low-level short-term memory retention. So, if you didn’t inform them of the little things, they would forget that they had a meal cooking until it burnt, or where exactly their kids went, or that they should be going to work right away because the toaster popped after their alarm went off and distracted them from their routine.

They were basically the most extreme case of ADHD that Max had ever heard of, so he forwarded their case to Nico, just in case she knew of a solution or had a research team that might be willing to help modify a medication to help them.

What exactly they could be doing for work confounded Max at first, and then he saw that the only four families of Harpia that were here were all registered as exotic dancers. The data sheet said that they loved music and dancing, and a short routine was within their memory capability. It was a decent-paying job, and the appeal of avian species in bird cages dancing drew customers, according to the traffic reports.

This visit to the arcade had been surprisingly helpful.

“Would you like to give the custom maps that I made a try?” Max asked the young Valkia, who was flopped out on a couch as he recovered from the physically demanding full immersion game.

“Maybe in a regular pod. I saw some of the maps that the humans have added to the game, and I don’t think that those were intended for civilian use.”

The rejection of the offer didn’t surprise Max, but it would at least earn him some goodwill here at the arcade, and goodwill went further than threats to get people to behave.