by Noah Barnett
He turned to head out and Monty caught up with him as they left the room.
"The loss was only empiric," he said reassuringly. "I agree with our instructor. The plan was well executed."
"Thank you. By the way, did you notice the new olfactory addition?"
Monty shook his head, looking resigned. "I was forced to sign off on the patch last night. Both Grace and I sent rather strongly-worded letters in return. She is threatening dire consequences for making her ‘smell like a squalid pig's pen,’ in her words. I only requested that they keep things simple. The other messy mortal functions I do not miss, and frankly I would hate to see them again."
"I wonder if they’re going to make us use toilets again?" he pondered.
"They shan't dare!" Grace gasped in shock.
"Come back to the bunkroom with me. I stink and I want a shower," Elva said, pulling on his arm. Charlie laughed, turning away with her firmly attached.
"I'll see you guys later. We'll have to get together for a practice flight."
Elva practically dragged him down the hallway toward the pilot's quarters, and he was sure her urgency wasn’t just for a shower. The few minutes of privacy would give them some much-needed alone time. In any case, he was glad to see her in better spirits.
The door to the bunk room opened and Elva glided toward the rear. He paused next to their bunk to check his stats.
_____________
Player ID - NA1339872
Registered Name - Charlie
Race - Human
Hours played - 14
[Strength - ΦΦ..]
[Agility - ΦΦΦ.]
[Endurance - ΦΦΦ.]
Corporation - None
Title - None
Reputation - [0]
Bounty - [None]
Kills - 10
Deaths - 3
K/D Ratio - 3.34
Hunger - [Hungry]
Thirst - [Parched]
Clone Location - [Lunar Base Sigma-Fi]
Credits - 54761
_____________
"Are you coming?" she asked from the bathroom. A flash of pale skin was visible as she stood with the shower door partly cracked open, steam from the hot water already pouring out. He quickly closed the console window and stood, hopping toward her as he tore the sticky flight suit from his body. He could get clean and have fun at the same time.
Elva turned to him as he opened the door, her eyes sliding down his lean body like a hot iron. She held out the bar of soap.
"Do my back," she ordered, and he smiled accepting the bar. He had feared that their relationship would drastically change after Gun Meister, but thankfully, Elva made it emphatically clear that she was not even close to done with him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Day Five - Better
Loading Star Nova Online_Closed Beta…
Network Shaking Hands…
Logging into Character…
The darkness gave way to a pair of baby blue eyes staring down at him. Charlie blinked, focusing on them as he entered the game fully. He gazed into those deep pools, Elva's hair a golden veil around them. She straddled his waist, her hands pressing into the bunk’s mattress on either side of his head. They both wore flight suits, but hers was partially open.
"Charlie?" she asked, as his eyes slid down the dark recess of her cleavage.
"Yes, Elva?"
"Are we lovers?"
He glanced up into her eyes, which were scanning his face and recording every minute change. It was a good question, and to be honest, he wasn't sure anymore. They'd stopped being ‘Weapon and Meister’ after coming to Star Nova, so what did that make them? Companions? Friends with benefits? He liked Elva a lot… enough to give up on hooking up with real-life girls, at least for now, though he still hoped that Fara, Sofie and his other weapons would be able to join Star Nova.
"What brought this on?"
"Grace and Monty are going to get married after the release."
He considered the beautiful woman atop him. Elva had been with him for almost a year now, and her personality had grown since they'd met. In some respects, she was more human than many of his co-workers. She was more than just a girl in his harem.
"I think we are," he said finally.
She smiled then, kissing him deeply, and he lost himself in the feel of her.
"What about Fara, Sofie, and the others?" he asked once he’d come up for air, and Elva half-shrugged.
"If it’s just them, I wouldn’t mind. We shared you for months anyway."
She bent, kissing him again, and for a few seconds it was like old times as she dominated his mouth with the steamy kiss. All too soon, however, they were interrupted by a sour, mocking voice.
"Aww, ain't that cute, you got yourself a digital girlfriend," Remy sniped from across the room.
"Remy—"
"No, no… I'm happy for you. A little jealous, even. The guy they saddled me with might as well be a Ken doll," she muttered, gesturing to the lanky fighter pilot in the next bunk, who was picking his nails with a distant expression on his face.
"Unlike the toy you mention, I have genitalia," Eugine interjected. "I just refuse to use them on you."
"See, no fun," she sulked.
Charlie did his best to hide his smirk. He suspected, rather strongly, that the developers had assigned Eugine to Remy purely out of spite.
"Are you disappointed you came to Star Nova?"
She sighed in exasperation. "Grace might as well be attached to Monty's hip; Jen and her boy-toy have managed to slip off for some secret sex. Hell, even Holier-Than-Thou-Tobias managed to get laid. Everyone's got a hookup but me, and it's annoying."
As she spoke, Tobias exited the shower, pulling a towel from the rack. Gadreel stepped out after him, her face flushed and a healthy glow to her skin.
"Sinner, you and I don't get along. However, if you want to find someone, I suggest you treat them with respect."
She batted her eyes at him. "Am I such a bad girl?"
"You did handcuff a weapon to a bed for weeks. That's imprisonment, and it’s illegal in the real world," Charlie said, glancing up at the ceiling to avoid looking at Gadreel dressing. She sat on the edge of her bunk and tugged on the grey flight suit, while Tobias sat next to her, struggling, as usual, to pull his own on.
"Missy didn't complain… much," Remy shrugged, unrepentant.
Charlie snorted skeptically. "Let's put away the topic of relationships. I have some credits from yesterday. Does anyone need more missiles or help fueling their fighter?"
"Not really," Remy admitted.
"My angel and I have some credits, but the price of holy lances has doubled since yesterday."
"Really?" he asked, putting a hand on the wall screen, which quickly displayed his information along with the market feed. Elva must have given him her credits already, because he was sitting at a hundred thousand.
"Eighty thousand for a single missile?!"
"Its gone up since last I checked. It was only seventy-eight thousand earlier," Remy commented, sliding from her bunk. The Wasps, too, were almost double their original price. The only missiles that hadn't increased much were the Dumbfire Needles.
Charlie pursed his lips, blowing out a breath. "Well, that sucks. I had high hopes that we’d be able to fully outfit the entire wing within the next two days. The Roth will be here soon and I still have four open missile slots."
"You could just fill them with Needles, or throw an extra Wasp in," Remy suggested.
"Maybe. What did you buy?" he asked, turning to face her.
"I traded two Shrikes for four Wasps, so my loadout is full of them now. Then with the leftover money, I bought chaff and flares. Some players mentioned that chaff fucks with the enemy sensors, which is probably why they're at four thousand now."
"The demons draw near, and our coin is only good until then," Tobias warned. He had a point. Things were only going to get more expensive as the day progressed.
With that i
n mind, he turned back to the market screen and considered his options. Two Wasps would eat up most of his available cash, and selling his Shrikes certainly wasn't an option. He had found the EM to be the best missiles of the three by far.
In the end, he picked up a pair of Dumbfire Needles. The warheads were equal in size to a class-two missile because they had no guidance system, and they also packed larger thrusters, giving them the best top speed of all the rockets. They were only usable against targets like the dropships, but a single one would probably be enough to take one out. Afterward, he bought twenty flares and chaff for twenty thousand, which left him just over thirty grand.
"If I give you thirty grand, will that be enough for an extra Wasp?"
"Yes, brother," Tobias nodded. "That would allow us to purchase another holy lance."
"Good, then once you’re done, let's head down to the training rooms and check on the previous flight," he said, tapping the console. Before closing the screen, he sent Jen and Monty a message to meet them down there.
He climbed from the bunk, waited for Tobias to finish wrestling his way into his flight suit, and headed down to the training center. The gray concrete halls were filled with the young teenage NPCs. With the Roth closing in, they were fortifying the base, and instead of tablets for study, they now carried high-caliber rifles and body armor.
A dark-haired man blocked his way into the conference room. It was Spanky, a thin, gloating smile on his face.
"Face it, squib, I'm going to win," he smirked, attempting to push Charlie back into the hallway.
"Bully for you, then. If you can manage a hundred spastic cats, you're a better leader than I," he said, planting his feet. The other man had about as much strength as he did. He got right into Charlie's face, so close they were almost touching noses.
"You should have attacked, or at least changed the formation, but no. You let them push our shit in."
"You can do little once the cards are on the table. Besides, we were outnumbered," he admitted with a shrug. He stepped to the side, letting Spanky past.
"Lame excuse," he sneered, stomping down the hall.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Good luck in the sim."
"Suck a sweaty ball sack," Remy called after him, before the flight leader disappeared into one of the pod rooms. "That fucker is going to put us on the front line just to spite us, I know it."
"Today will be a trial," Tobias agreed.
Charlie headed into the conference room just in time to catch the tail end of the battle, and Remy gave the empty hallway the finger before following.
They took seats in the back row, watching avidly. A ball of icons filled the screen and vector lines were everywhere. The Roth had lost half of their fighters already and the others were trying to cover the dropships, but the humans had pushed together into a loose mass and were harassing them steadily. Whoever was flight lead was using the entire formation like a single wing.
Both sides lost forces over the next few minutes, but the humans won, with thirty ships remaining. Afterwards, they met Jen and Monty outside one of the training rooms.
"Did you buy everything you need?"
"Yes, I bought fuel and air last night before the prices went up," Jen said, leading the way inside to where the previous players were climbing from the simulation pods.
"This is getting easy," the rainbow-haired woman grinned, slapping a wingmate on the arm.
"I know, it’s like they weren’t even trying today."
Charlie suspected that the Roth were learning right along with the humans, and that the seven days of training hadn't been for their benefit alone. Elva was becoming a fantastic pilot. She did half the work in getting the Jaguar into position; all he had to do was line up the shot.
The players left in a laughing gaggle, and he helped Elva into the first cockpit before climbing into the gunner’s seat and pulling the helmet over his head. Almost immediately, the canopy closed, plunging him into darkness. Hexagons danced across the surface, and soon he was looking out into space.
Earth looked considerably closer than it had in the last few simulation sessions, its surface a pale blue gemstone on the dark velvet of space. For a few seconds, he admired the brilliant marble, feeling a strange sense of wanderlust looking at that round ball. Like so many young kids, he had caught the astronaut bug and it had never wholly left him. Alien invasion or no, space was beautiful.
"Wing Six, push toward the suspected Roth formation," a thick voice said over the radio, and he sighed at the interruption.
"Wing Six, respond."
"Yes, I heard you," he snapped, tapping his HUD controls and connecting to his wingmates. "Did you get that?"
"Roger."
"Sure."
"I told you that prick was going to throw us at the Roth," Remy replied as he closed the comm.
"Yes, Charlie," Elva responded, turning the fighter away from Earth. A hundred fighters came into view, most only visible as green icons in the distance.
His squad, however, were all within kilometers of each other, while other wings were spreading out into a broad bowl shape. His unit was being sent forward purely to scout the enemy formation.
"Misfits, follow wing lead."
He was shoved back into his seat as the fighter's engines went active. At least the orders were vague enough that he had some leeway. The ass hadn't technically said at what speed he had to approach the Roth.
"Move at half acceleration," he told Elva, and after a few seconds, the g-forces on his chest lessened. Their five fighters slid further into space, away from the human lines. This was going to be a wash for their wing but he could at least try to make it count.
He grasped the two joysticks on the gunner's seat and briefly rotated the turret to check that his wing was following. The other four ships had formed a ragged line behind him, so he checked his HUD. The radar was empty except for friendly ships and the fuel and oxygen tanks were full. He reviewed his weapons loadout.
The two new Needles were there, not that they'd do much good. Still, he had a full complement of counter-measures, so maybe they’d be able to escape this death trap.
"Squad, when you see enemy contacts, burn towards Earth then fire off all chaff and flares."
"But we won't make any money if we disobey orders," Elva reminded him.
"We won't make any money getting killed, either. I'd rather see this battle through." He rotated the turret around.
"Even with all of us firing them off, the chaff cloud won't last long," Remy pointed out. That was fine by him. They just needed enough time to run screaming back toward the lines, which was part of the reason he'd only accelerated at half speed.
The first contact appeared less than a minute later and his radar immediately began to go crazy. He groaned. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, but they were still outnumbered.
"Flight lead, this is Wing Six. I have contact with the Roth forces. Sending sensor data now."
There was a five-second pause. He fired off another set of counter-measures as he waited for a response.
"I didn't ask for advice," came the tart reply, and Charlie blinked.
"It's not advice, jackass, it’s intel. I assumed you wanted us to scout the enemy formation."
There was a long pause, though that was probably at least partially due to the slight lag.
"Yes, I see them," Spanky finally said, and closed the connection. He hadn't given any orders, which at least gave them room to do something.
"Turn and burn, Misfits," he commanded his squad.
The Jaguar was already pointed at Earth and the thrusters kicked on hard. He shoved the joysticks right, looking back toward the Roth formation. The smaller, faster Interceptors were catching up by the second, and he thumbed the buttons to fire his counter-measures. Flares streaked away from his fighter into space and a cloud blossomed behind him as the human formation slowly neared.
"Wings One through Ten, engage the Roth. Wings Eleven through Twenty, full burn through their fo
rmation at speed. Wing Six, I said to engage the Roth."
Just great, he'd hoped to get behind the human lines coming toward them. Charlie rolled his eyes and opened the channel to his wingmates.
"Slow down to engage the Roth."
Reaching over, he selected a Shrike missile and waited for the end to come. His five fighters were still behind a cloud of dissipating chaff particles, and it was screwing up his own EM lock, the circle bouncing erratically as it tried to lock up the nearest Roth fighter. Lasers passed through the cloud of chaff and Elva spun the fighter as they entered weapons range, the engagement zone quickly becoming a disco rave with the number of red beams cutting through space.
