Wargames of the Everworld

by Andrew McGregor

  "Demons," Jessica called to the four power-armoured soldiers flanking her and Peter, "could you stop them if they tried to kill Georgy?"

  One of them turned towards her and replied, "Momentarily, yes, Commander. We may all be executed thereafter."

  "Jessica, no!" Peter hissed at her. Ammon looked at them with red-rimmed eyes and shook his head at her.

  She looked down at her feet, feeling helpless.

  "Do it, Arbiter!" the Plinth commander said while clenching its high-tech rifle in brown muscle-corded fists.

  Georgy looked over at Peter and Jessica, the skin under his eyes sagging."Look after my huskies for me..." The arbiter's tendril cracked the air like a whip and the red rope attached to the purple orbs pulsed.

  For a brief moment, bright white flames replaced what had once been the body of Georgy Alatort.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Damn that arbiter, Plinth puppet!" Hubunker fumed as he paced back and forth in front of the stunned humans. Jessica was seated in a vast Everworld elevator, large enough to hold an army, and her heel kept tapping the clean white floor. The ride to the next arena was going to take up most of their remaining time while the elevator shifted from zone to zone within the Everworld's crust and internal caverns. "The games masters will see. The neutrals will all see. The Beam alliance will all pay for this outrage." Jessica barely heard him as she tried to concentrate on the technical details on the elevator's wall, showing them battle options, starship configurations, and arena details.

  Her eyes blurred, and her mind felt fuzzy. They'd just lost Georgy and were now expected to fight another battle in an arena no human had ever encountered.

  "I suppose you could say it's a bit like submarine warfare, just... with air instead of water, and no gravity," Peter was trying to tell her while he slurped red soup from a brown mug. Ammon sat next to them drinking green tea.

  They all heard a chime coming from a device on Hubunker's left wrist. He brought the device up closer to his eyestalks and touched it with his right hand, "Ha! We're in luck. The new arena's games master is allowing Ammon to join the wargames as our secondary."

  A small smile formed on Ammon's wrinkled face, "Thank you, master Hubunker."

  "Don't mess it up this time," Hubunker said as he pointed at Ammon. "Forget—"

  "Forget the redoubt manoeuvre; I understand, master."

  "You’ve fought these battles?" Peter asked Ammon.

  "Of course, he has, a long time ago, perhaps, but he keeps in practice, don't you?" Hubunker said.

  "Yes," Ammon replied, nodding.

  "He can help you choose a fleet. In fact, I believe he has been working on such a scenario for quite some time."

  Ammon nodded, "I have several fleet configurations already prepared for just such an occasion."

  "Glad to have you aboard!" Peter said with what may have been mock enthusiasm, his red-rimmed eyes staring at nothing.

  "You must have been praying for this moment your whole life," Jessica said. "You must have hoped one of us would die so you could take our place." She fought to keep the stammer from her voice. The flash of white light that had once been Georgy was still fresh in her mind.

  "Calm, Miss Stanner; your assertions are not quite correct. This is part of Ammon's function in case something like this happens. He's a sort of... spare, among his many duties. Mr Alatort's incineration will not be in vain. Ah, but where are my manners? I must now leave you to choose your battle craft. Before I go to collect your winnings from the central exchange, may I suggest the mark twelve power armour this time?"

  Ammon put his hands together in a thoughtful gesture. "The mark twelve failed us last time."

  "Its capabilities are superior to the thirteen and fourteen."

  "It takes more practice, master."

  Hubunker growled before snapping a finger at them. "Suit yourself; I don't have time to waste on these frivolities."

  "Then go, please," Ammon dismissed their Trustee with a wave of his hand. The alien stomped off to the rear of the gigantic elevator where small transportation orbs waited for him. Hubunker took almost a hundred demons with him as bodyguards. Tensions must have been high at the central exchange.

  Jessica had almost no idea what they had been talking about, deep in grief and shock as she was, but a thin smile formed on her lips anyway. "You just told Hubunker to piss off, didn’t you?"

  Ammon grinned. "And it was glorious. Hubunker deserves respect as our Trustee but he has no place telling us commanders how to prepare for our games. Peter is our game three commander, so the responsibility is his, but, unlike our Trustee, I believe I can make some well-informed suggestions..."

  ***

  “Hubunker, your humans impress us. Our friends have finally seen the truth of the matter, they move to execute our plans.”

  “Excellent! Is the operative in place?”

  “Not yet. While the Beam Alliance is distracted by your humans’ next game, your Jean pieces will infiltrate their ships aboard my trade vessels. Are you sure Jean’s mind was the right one for copying into your soldiers’ bodies?”

  “He will succeed, or we fail.”

  ***

  A demon, named Jean, crept in the shadows of a Plinth starship. He was naked, apart from a thin black belt that shielded him from the starship’s sensors. Thousands of other demons, all with Jean’s memories, infiltrated other starships belonging to the Plinth and their allies. Tortured for centuries, enduring his existence within the body of a demon, the army of Jeans relished the thought of death. His torturer, the Trustee known as Hubunker, would not be able to resurrect him this time.

  In the darkness of the ship’s cargo bay, he moved towards his ultimate destination. The power station beckoned him. He could almost feel the tiny anti-matter bomb, hidden in the black belt, hum with approval as he approached the target.

  He heard long footsteps behind him; they suddenly stopped. “Who are you?” a Plinth soldier growled at him.

  Jean smiled, then ran. He made it a dozen paces before the Plinth soldier shot him in the back of his head. Sensing its host had been killed, the anti-matter bomb detonated.

  Moments later, thousands of more bombs exploded aboard their target ships. The conflagration and carnage was the signal for millions of Hubunker’s allies, to attack. Hubunker’s allies opened fire. The war for the Everworld had begun.

  ***

  If it weren’t for the holographic displays in front of her, Jessica could have sworn she was in an empty abyss. She felt like everywhere she looked darkness peered back. There were no stars in the arena, no lights. All the airships the humans and their opponents were using were covered in light absorbing paint and were all in stealth mode, not risking the slightest hint of exhaust fumes for their opponents to detect. She had barely seen the ships when they'd slipped into the dark arena, but they looked like streamlined rockets with multiple wings that flapped and waved like silk in the dead air, as silent as ghosts.

  The mark fourteen power armour that she wore did its best to make her comfortable, but it was too large to allow her to find a proper perch on the observation platform. She had to stand with straps holding her down due to the arena's weightlessness. It was hard to believe they were somewhere at the centre of the endless Everworld where gravity was non-existent. Peter had worked out they must have been travelling at almost two percent of the speed of light to get to the centre, yet they hadn't felt any changes in direction on the elevator. She should have been surprised, but after seeing the other wonders of the Everworld and its inhabitants, she could readily believe in almost anything.

  Now it was their turn to use such advanced technology.

  The arena itself was a relatively “small” sphere with a radius of almost ten thousand kilometres. She wondered how they were supposed to fight over such distances, let alone find their opponents. Ammon had assured her their enemies would find them fast enough.

  Hundreds of blue glowing arrowheads that represented allied ships on the
holographic displays crawled forward in small squadrons that had split up into search parties. The formation resembled a patchy hemispherical glob with a larger reserve force at the centre of the glob.

  "Sound sensors report movement at sector eight-five," she heard Ammon say.

  "Eight-five... oh you mean top right central. I see it," Peter said. A tiny red dot appeared on Jessica's holographic display in front of the human fleet, showing her where Ammon's scouts had detected movement.

  "I shall send seekers; they will create an echo that will bounce off their hulls."

  "Echo-location? Yeah, I got it, thanks."

  "Keep talk to a minimum, their scanners may see our communication lasers."

  Minutes passed. A small group of seeker drones deployed near the red dot. Jessica's eyes were fixed on that one spot and she couldn’t tear her attention away.

  "Too quiet," she whispered. The first of the drones activated and screamed into the abyss.

  Nothing.

  The second drone went ten kilometres further before activating.

  Nothing.

  Three more went further and spread out.

  Red dots filled that entire section of the holographic displays. "Hold fleet," Peter called from the command ship. "Fifty-seven contacts." The probes were quickly destroyed by enemy railguns.

  "They're spread pretty widely," Jessica said.

  "Correct, I suggest sending more probes into all sectors."

  "You think it's a trap?" Peter asked.

  "They must have seen our communications and deduced our formation."

  "How?" Jessica asked.

  "They've played many games before," Ammon said quickly. Probes entered the darkness in a large spherical pattern. While she waited she ordered the observation platform to move closer to the rear of their fleet, thinking she could get a closer look at the enemy ships with her suit's sensors rather than relying on the interpreted holographic images the platform chose to show her.

  The probes reached their destinations and simultaneously screamed into the darkness. "Oh shit," Peter said. The enemy fleet looked like a giant octopus with its arms slowly closing in on the human fleet. The octopus' head was directly behind them. "They're behind us!"

  "Repeat my commands to the fleet," Ammon said without pause, "all ships forward at full speed, repulsors to the rear, deploy smoke screens, maser and x-ray laser craft target enemy craft in front of the fleet, deploy tactical probes and scatter one wave of mines." Peter relayed the orders as quickly as he could and Jessica watched as the firefight started. Smoke and tactical probes filled most of her view, punctuated by bright flashes when the probes fired off different types of countermeasures or were destroyed. The enemy 'octopus' fired hundreds of small missiles that looked like red teeth to her eyes. The missiles streaked towards the smoke and spiralled through as they searched for their prey. Some exploded less than a hundred metres from her and deadly shrapnel sparked off the observation platform's shielding. Jessica flinched from the sounds and noises, helpless against the sudden onslaught.

  "DANGER," she heard while a shrieking alarm pierced her eardrums. She tried to cover her ears with her suited hands in a vain attempt to shut out the noise and looked up just in time to see a missile streak towards the platform. The platform wrenched hard to turn her away from the incoming missile and deployed a yellow umbrella of defensive energy.

  "Urk!" she uttered, winded by the platform's manoeuvre. The missile slammed into the umbrella and she was thrown into the darkness, ejected by the platform. She bit her tongue and tasted blood before losing consciousness.

  ***

  It couldn't have been long before she regained her senses; her tongue and mouth were numb and her right leg felt funny. She looked down in a sudden panic but couldn't see what was wrong in the blackness. She tried to ask her suit what was wrong but it felt like her mouth was glued shut.

  "You seem to be in some distress," a calm male voice said. "With your permission, I shall scan your neural impulses and we will communicate non-verbally. You are able to move your head, if you agree to the scan, please nod your head."

  She nodded. "Good, to aid with communication follow these instructions: form a thought in your mind as if it were are text across your eyes, then nod to send the text to me. I will attempt to decipher the thoughts."

  Who are you? You sound like a human. She thought the words as if they were bright white lights across her vision.

  "Please repeat," the voice said. She repeated her question. "I am your mark fourteen safety vessel. My mind template was taken and modified from a former human commander. You are currently under my protection."

  Oh, thanks. What happened to me? Why can't I talk?

  "The observation platform ejected us to save us from a missile strike. Your ankle is broken and you bit off the tip of your tongue. Do not despair, your injuries are minor and will be repaired at the conclusion of this game. I have administered numbing and stabilising agents to the affected areas, so they cannot be moved."

  Well that explains that. How far is our fleet? Could we signal them?

  "Signalling is not recommended."

  Why?

  "We are being hunted."

  Jessica's eyes widened. But we haven't entered the game!

  "Irrelevant. We were illegally targeted and will be again. You must be brought to mental parity before we can continue. Please describe how you feel."

  How do I feel? How do you think I feel? Why can't we hear Peter or Ammon's orders to the fleet? Are you blocking the signals?

  "I cannot speculate on your feelings, I do not know your particular chemical or electrical structures within your neural network. As for the fleet, I am not blocking the signals, as it appears there are no signals for me to block."

  Jessica twisted and sent her body into a slow pirouette while she searched the spherical black arena for any signs of light. "Your heart rate has increased."

  I'm scared.

  "Understandable. You are isolated within a wargame where the threat of death is quite possible. What are your other thoughts?"

  Are you some sort of shrink suit? she asked sarcastically. I'm lonely and afraid that I'm going to get a railgun slug to the face from an alien warship. I'm tired, I haven't had any sleep, I want to go home, and...

  “You were going to add something before you paused. What was that thought?"

  Her eyes started to sting as she fought back tears, I... I miss my parents. They must think I'm dead now.

  The suit paused before replying, probably coming up with the most appropriate thing to say to calm her down. "That must make you a little... angry, perhaps?"

  What the hell do you think?

  "I think you are angry at those who have hurt you. I believe you are angry with the bastard who brought you here." Jessica blinked, confused. "You're pissed off with Hubunker. You're pissed off with the Plinth."

  Uh, yeah, I suppose so. You're not sounding much like a robot anymore.

  "There's no 'supposing' about this Jessica. I'd be pissed off too, especially since these morons cheated and shot at us. In fact, I am pissed off." The suit's calm voice was steadily getting faster and louder with an angry growl crawling into its synthesised voice. "They shot us against the rules. They want to kill us. They're going to stop you from going home. Home, Jessica. These bastards are stopping you from seeing your parents!"

  Jessica's eyes narrowed. So, what do we do about it?

  "Good, determination is good. I am administering a concoction directly into your spine and the base of your skull. This will increase your senses and allow for deeper integration into this mark fourteen safety vessel. It will also remove much of the neurological damage caused from stress and lack of sleep."

  Sounds good; then what?

  "We track them down—"

  And kill them.

  "Precisely."

  CHAPTER TEN

  How did the enemy surround the fleet so easily?

  The arena, Jessica found, was not an
empty black space. With soft flaps of the mark fourteen suit's ghostly wings she floated through a squall of near-black objects that the suit's sensors detected. They were rocks of various shapes and sizes. Asteroids. She did her best not to conjure up an image of one of those old Star Wars movies while she slipped between the rocky objects. The suit gave her a visual representation of the field using infrared. It all looked like grey shadows to her. Shadows upon shadows. One of the shadows appeared to be a small planetoid, hundreds of kilometres across.

  "Your enemies are the 'Tentacle-twelve,' or the twelfth race of intelligent tentacled beings that were ever encountered by denizens of the Everworld's libraries. At least in surviving records," An image popped up on Jessica's face-plate with the label 'Tentacle-twelve.' It looked a lot like a spherical jelly-fish; a blue translucent ball with numerous dark blue tentacles equally spread across its body.

  Looks like a primitive octopus.

  "Primitive but old. They have survived where the species that discovered them, and many others, died off millions of years ago. Few races can claim such age or power. This arena is like their natural environment."

  So, if they're so old, they've had a lot of practice in here.

  "Correct. It is likely they helped formulate the very rules that govern this arena and know its loop-holes. I believe this is why they were able to attack the observation platform." They were nearing the edge of the squall and Jessica thought she glimpsed a shadow against one of the larger asteroids on the suit's infrared sensors.

  Was that...?

  "Yes, it's possible you saw a hunter-killer craft. It has been tracking us since we reached the rock-field. It may be looking for an excuse to fire upon us and it has been moving with such intent that it may in fact be the enemy commander or its second in command, I believe now is the time to give it a reason to attack."

  You're going to enter us into the game?

  "Yes. It is unlikely we can defeat such an adversary, but we shall deny it from attaining one of the game's minor objectives, namely, possession of this rock-field. A secondary outcome is both positive and negative."