by Noah Barnett
"Wing Six, what part of ‘engage the Roth’ was unclear?" Spanky’s voice broke over the comms.
"We are engaging Roth fighters. I'm currently dodging a lot of laser fire, so if you could shut the fuck up."
"We are so screwed," Remy moaned. All of them were dancing madly, trying to avoid the incredible amount of laser beams coming at them.
The Shrike missile finally locked onto the target as it passed through the particle cloud and the weapon shot away, speeding toward the enemy as Elva corkscrewed. The Jaguar bucked and Charlie was shoved back into his seat as she picked a random vector.
Spanky must have forgotten to close the channel because Charlie could hear his call-outs as the Roth entered the bowl.
"Wings One through Ten, keep the Roth engaged. Wings Eleven through Twenty, fire missiles as you pass through the Roth formation."
Charlie was surprised that he wasn’t pushing everyone forward to enclose the Roth forces. Instead, he was sending fifty fighters to keep three times their number occupied. At least the human wings were starting to engage the Roth, which gave them something to shoot at other than Charlie.
Elva threw the fighter into more and more improbable vectors and his turret could barely keep up. It took him several tries to lock the second Shrike as the comms continued to buzz.
"Wing Seven, push in closer. Wing Three, keep the Roth from leaving. Wing Eighteen, I told you to go through their formation. Keep punching in and out."
He wished he could find the mute button, but unfortunately the flight leader alone had the power to open and close connections. He did his best to tune out the droning as they fought to survive.
Their fighter jerked as a laser sliced over the tip of their wing, but thankfully, the Shrikes were already gone. He selected a Wasp and launched it at the first Roth he managed to lock. With the Jaguar spinning around like a circus attraction, he couldn't hope to track its progress.
"You still alive, Wing Six?"
"What do you want now?" Charlie asked dryly, but the only response was the communications line closing, finally.
A target was closing on them, so he selected the enemy contact from the list. The icon appeared in his periphery and he transitioned the turret to face the threat. Elva dodged again just as the laser slid over their prow, giving Charlie just seconds to reacquire the Roth ship and line up his crosshairs on the bouncing pip. He fired a short burst before Elva spun the Jaguar again. This deep in the thick of combat, dodging had to be their chief concern.
"I hath need of thee." Tobias sounded worried. His icon was at least a hundred thousand kilometers away. All of them had been so preoccupied with evasion they hadn't been able to stay in formation.
Charlie wanted to help, but his squad was spread out over the battlefield and crossing it would be next to impossible. Ordering his squad to help Tobias would just get them all killed, and leaving the combat zone wasn't exactly an option either.
"Tobias, I hate to say this, but you’re going to have to aim at one of the approaching wings and pray."
The icon turned away and spun towards the advancing human formation, but he didn't last long after his call out. Charlie hated to lose him, but they'd survived longer than he’d expected. Spanky's plan had looked solid at the outset. He had hoped to keep the Roth busy with the smaller force while taking bites out of the swarm with his other wings, but it would have worked better if they’d had numbers parity.
Charlie had to save what was left of his wing. The Roth were cleaning up, and soon they'd turn on the remaining fighters. He picked one of his squad members near the center of the battle and opened the comm.
"Everyone, converge on Monty, then team up by twos."
"I'm nearest you," Jen said.
The Jaguar spun again as several lasers swept over their prow, and Elva vectored the fighter toward Jen's icon as Charlie selected a Wasp. The Roth were everywhere and he fired the weapon, the streak shooting toward the Interceptor closing in on them to collide with its cockpit.
The explosion was brief but brilliant, and he smiled. He was out of tracking missiles, but at least he was on Jen's tail. They both flew into the ball of enemy fighters, heading toward Monty's dancing icon.
Almost immediately, a Roth was on Jen's tail, so Charlie selected the Interceptor. He tracked it with his crosshairs, following the ghostly pip and firing off a long burst of shells, but the other fighter suddenly turned as the bullets reached it. It fired at his Jaguar and a beam cut across his vision.
For a few seconds, Elva and Charlie tumbled through space, before exploding in a bright flash. His canopy slid open, and he yanked the helmet off.
He climbed from the pod, feeling more than a little annoyed. The flight lead had used a small portion of their force as bait, and it sucked being the worm. Elva jumped lightly down from the pilot's cabin, her expression weary. She'd had a hard battle, and he pulled her into a casual embrace before heading out to join the other players. Tobias was waiting in the conference room and he sat down next to the crusader.
"Sorry I couldn't get to you. How did you do?" he asked the larger man.
"It was God's own miracle that we lasted so long. We slew one, possibly two, but I was just trying to keep my breakfast down."
They watched as Monty lasted another five minutes, his fighter spinning and dodging, but a dozen Roth eventually converged on him and he was shot down. More people trickled into the room, including Jen and Remy.
The rest of battle played out by the numbers. The Roth and the humans danced back and forth in space, exchanging missiles and lasers, but eventually the humans were able to overwhelm the enemy forces. After cleaning up, they turned toward the dropships and the few remaining defenders. Every ship was destroyed, the first time their flight had managed to take out the enemy force.
The lieutenant and the rest of the players came into the conference room, and Mansfield addressed them as they sat.
"We did well. The Roth lost all two hundred fighters, plus forty dropships. It's not the first victory, but I'll take it. I can understand that it was hectic for the first group, and the second group made good use of the learned tactics. Spanky received more points and thus is going to be flight lead."
There was a collective groan from the crowd.
"That jerk is an anal retentive control freak," someone muttered.
"You bastards need a firm hand," the anal retentive control freak in question responded.
Lieutenant Mansfield interrupted what was gearing up to be a very heated discussion by saying loudly, "Tomorrow is the final training day before the Roth arrive. Make good use of that time by practicing with your wing. There will be no do-overs for the real thing." Everyone stood then, starting to file out the doors.
"Charlie, come up here a moment," Mansfield called. Charlie paused in the stream of players, turning back to the podium.
“Sir?”
"We’d like you to be the commander."
"Of the flight?" he asked in confusion.
"No, of the entire force."
Charlie blinked in astonishment. Had he heard that right?
"But... I lost."
Mansfield shrugged. "Clearly you impressed someone. The admirals picked you, if you want the role."
He had no idea why they wanted him instead of the other flight leads, but he didn't exactly have to think too hard about it. "Yeah, I do."
"Tomorrow is the final session before the Roth arrive. It's too bad there aren't enough sim pods for everyone, but you'll need some practice being in command. Show up at noon tomorrow so you can decide on a flight plan. You won't be there for each battle, but your decisions will be carried out by the flight leads."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Charlie said, extending a hand.
The lieutenant grasped it firmly. "Don’t screw it up."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Day Six - Relax
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Elva curled against him, one leg thrown over his, and Charlie automatically slid a hand along her side as she snuggled closer to him. He blinked his eyes open, examining his surroundings. Everyone was waiting for him. Jen and Tobias were chatting near his bunk while Remy sat cross-legged on her companion's chest, poking his cheek.
Monty, on the other hand, looked like he was studying for final exams. Several tablets lay on his bunk as Grace attempted to explain the pseudo-laws of physics to him.
"We got a message to head down to the sim rooms immediately," Elva whispered into his ear.
"Sorry, I had to shower and eat breakfast before logging in," he replied. He stretched as he stood from the bunk, glancing at his wingmates idling around the room.
"Glad you’re all online. It looks like we’re wanted down at the training center."
He opened the door to the bunk room to see a group of four girls in heavy-duty body armor hustling down the hallway. They looked dangerous, their faces set in dark, concentrated frowns as they sprinted past. None stopped to salute.
"They've been doing that all morning," Remy said, coming into the hallway after him. "About an hour ago, some boys came through having a mock battle."
Elva led the way to a much larger simulation room than the one they’d been practicing in, touching the door control to usher them into the expansive space. A single pod sat in the center, where Lieutenant Mansfield was waiting for them.
"Good, you're here," he said, gesturing for them all to enter.
"The base commander was originally going to control the battle from this pod, but after watching the training scenarios, he changed his mind. Everything was happening far too quickly and the lag meant that any orders given were five or six minutes out of date.”
He shook his head, frowning. “We need someone closer to the battlefield. He selected several candidates and each of you were given the same scenario. Out of everyone, Charlie, you managed best with the resources you were given. Your initial battle plan and timely commitment of reserves were a key element in his selection of you as commander."
Mansfield pushed away from the simulation pod and looked to everyone. "Today, you won't be joining the others in the simulated battle. The commander wants you to know the pain that comes with being a rear line leader. Once you're inside the sim, please plan your strategy and exit. The rest of you will have to wait to see how things turn out."
Charlie approached the pod. He was nervous as hell and it must have shown on his face, as Mansfield quickly added, "Regardless of whether you win or lose today, you'll still be flight commander. Tomorrow you'll be mixed in with the other fighters, but your wing will not be a part of any flight. Instead, your friends will fly escort for you. The information that a player is the flight commander has not yet been released, as we feel it may adversely affect the battle. We would prefer it if you and your wing kept that fact a secret as well."
He looked over at Charlie. "Are you ready?"
Charlie squared his shoulders, nodded, and climbed into the pod. The gunner's seat and the loadout console were familiar, and to the left was a curved command and control screen for managing the flight groups. The canopy slowly slid closed, the pod blossoming with hexagons as the simulation started.
Black space surrounded him amidst a backdrop of twinkling lights, his fighter looked down on what would later be the battlefield. A thick, hazy vector line showed the Roth's possible approach path, while green friendly icons formed a single long line across the engagement envelope. Everything was green across his fighter, the loadout screen showing that he had six missiles and that fuel and air were at capacity.
The console to his left blinked to life. The icons at his disposal were labeled with Greek callsigns, each representing a hundred fighters for a total of twelve hundred ships at his command. Each flight had a ‘combat effectiveness,' icon next to it, with some scoring higher than others.
He prodded at the console, looking for his former flight. Their combat rating was roughly middle-of-the-pack, Spanky listed as their lead. Which wasn't to say there was a definite loser. These were all high-level gamers and their scores reflected that.
A window appeared on his HUD and Mansfield entered the image frame. "You can begin your planning at any point. Select a flight icon and drag it to any position you desire. Your orders will be automatically conveyed via the onboard computer.
"The enemy forces are unknown, but we do know which vector they'll enter from. You must cover an area of over five million kilometers. You will have roughly an hour before they arrive." He disconnected the feed, and Charlie whistled. It was no wonder they needed so many fighters to stand against the Roth.
He chewed his lip in thought. With so much area to cover, each flight’s battle would likely be its own separate instance. What he decided here would affect the number of Roth they would meet, so his primary decision needed to be their formation. He considered making another staggered line. This was still a training scenario, after all, which gave him some room to experiment.
He spent a few minutes pushing the icons into an equilateral triangle, with each side made up of four flights. The best two—Alpha and Theta—would take the brunt of the enemy forces until the others caught up. He knew it was unfair, and suspected they'd be wiped out quickly; however, it would hopefully punch a hole right into the middle of the Roth forces. The sides of the triangle would then slowly widen the gap, driving the enemy into two groups, before the last line of fighters would hit them with fresh reinforcements. It was simple—made more so because he wouldn't be able to give each flight orders during battle.
After almost twenty minutes, he sat back in his seat, letting out a long sigh. It looked good on paper, but only time would tell. The triangular formation was fairly offensive in nature, and he was eager to see how the Roth would react to it. Crossing his arms, he examined the formation one final time.
After another minute of silence, a comm window appeared and Mansfield glanced off to the side.
"Are you finished?"
"I think so."
"You won't be able to make changes after exiting the simulation," he warned, turning to face the camera. Charlie considered moving some of the better flights back, but it honestly would make little difference in the end.
"I understand."
The canopy flashed as the simulation ended, the hexagons dimming back to a dull gray. It slid open as he pulled the helmet off his head, and he climbed down the stairs to where his wingmates were still waiting.
"They told us we couldn't join in the pew-pew," Remy pouted.
"That's unfortunate. I've only got six out of eight missiles, but my air and fuel are full. How are your loadouts?" he asked, stopping next to Monty.
"Could be worse, I'm full up on IR Wasps," Remy said, more brightly this time.
Jen wrinkled her nose. "I've got eight, but they're a mixed bag."
Monty shook his head. "Everything considered, I'm thankful to have two Wasps and four Needles."
"Tobias?"
"I possess seven," he admitted. "Two Shrikes, two Wasps, and three Needles."
"How’s the market?" Jen asked.
"It's freaking insane," Remy said, slapping the door control. "A Wasp is over a hundred thousand credits now, and you don't even want to know how much a Shrike is going for." The doors swooshed open and they stepped into the hallway.
"Our sim time was canceled, so we have today off. What would you guys like to do for the rest of the day?" Charlie asked, following the group outside.
"The food mess is closed and the NPC kiddies are running around playing soldier. They're a little worried we players might lose," Remy snickered, glancing at a pair of armed girls.
"Young and naive, but each prepares themselves for battle," Tobias reluctantly agreed.
Outside in the hallway, they found evidence of just that. Bags of concrete mix had been formed into a crude fighting position and the young NPCs bounded down the hall, carrying racks of ammo and g
renades. If Charlie and the other players did lose, the cadets clearly planned to make the Roth fight for every inch of the base. A solemn reminder that his decisions would affect far more than just his enjoyment of the beta.
"How about a swim?" Jen suggested.
"They have a pool?" he asked in surprise. Though the base commander had said that there were leisurely diversions.
"There's a whole water park. They must have built it before they abandoned the base," she said, smiling. Apparently she’d managed to loosen up a bit, if she was willing to suggest a little downtime.
"Okay. It would be nice to relax," he admitted, gesturing for her to lead the way.
