Assault or Attrition

by Blake Northcott

  Brynja jogged to keep up with me as more distance stretched between us and the warzone.

  “There’s something about that guy I don’t trust,” I grumbled.

  “You mean there’s something that you don’t like,” Brynja was quick to add.

  “Stop reading my mind, Brynja”

  From the corner of my eye I noticed her lips curling into a tiny smile. “Didn’t have to.”

  McGarrity was a cocky, brash, self-centered dick – but what was eating away at me was the simple fact that he was right. I couldn’t save Mac, and I couldn’t save Chandler. Two more lives had been lost, and I was powerless, once again, to do anything about it. And maybe if McGarrity had been there, he could have.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The wide-open space beyond the hedges was a Zen garden, stretching the entire width of the castle’s courtyard. A sea of sun-bleached pebbles filled the garden, all precisely raked into calm swirling patterns, each of them four grooves wide. It must have taken days to create this intricate series of patterns, if not weeks. There was a walkway comprised of dark rounded stones that led to a small patch of grass in the center. I carefully and deliberately ignored it. In my state of mind it was more satisfying to trample the garden, kicking apart the patterns with each angry step.

  “We’re burning time,” Brynja said, following me through the stones. “I know he pisses you off but he’s our best chance of making it to the tunnel.”

  “And you like this guy,” I grumbled, turning to retrace my steps.

  Brynja reached out and grabbed my shoulder, halting me in mid-stride. “No,” she said emphatically, “but I trust him. I’ve been reading him since he appeared in the rain forest. He’s clean – the kid just wants to help.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  She nodded in agreement, before adding, “He’s an asshole who can produce a giant sword by bending light...and in case you haven’t noticed, at the moment we’re a little low on firepower.”

  It was a fair point. Steve McGarrity was definitely an asset, but I worried that his recklessness – and complete lack of respect for the obstacles we faced – could get us all killed. He had no concept of the danger we were in. I could see it in his every action, and hear it in his every dismissive comment.

  As a pro gamer, McGarrity likely spent every waking moment engaged in a virtual simulation of a swordfight or shoot-out. The blood, the bodies, and the loss of life – it clearly meant nothing to him; all he saw were clusters of pixels, and the option to re-spawn somewhere safe once his heath meter had been depleted. If this idiot wanted to commit suicide in pursuit of an adrenaline rush I honestly didn’t care, but I had a responsibility to get Peyton and Brynja down to the tunnel and out to safety. I’d already lost too many people along the way.

  “Make nice,” Brynja said calmly. “He’s on his way now, so shake his hand, fake a smile and act like you don’t want to smash his face in.”

  McGarrity emerged from the hedges with Peyton, and Melvin padded along behind. The blue fur around the manticore’s jaw was stained black; I assumed that he took a bite out of the overcooked shape-shifter before realizing that it wasn’t the delicious meal he’d been expecting. They made their way through the Zen garden, and without a word I extended a hand.

  Without hesitation, McGarrity stepped towards me and spread his hands wide, raising his eyebrows. “So are we gonna hug this one out, or...”

  “Don’t push it,” I said coldly. He accepted my original offer of a handshake, smiling once again – the same self-satisfied grin that caused me to slug him in the first place.

  “There,” Peyton said sweetly, like a kindergarten teacher resolving a spat in a sandbox. “Doesn’t it feel better now that you boys are playing nice again?”

  “Maybe we can continue this rom-com a little later,” Brynja suggested, tapping her wrist. “Ticking clock and all that?”

  “Oh, right,” McGarrity said, slapping himself in the side of the head. “I almost forgot. This was in one of the caskets I found out in the hills.” He dug into the front pocket of his tattered jeans and yanked out an ancient pocket watch. He dangled it from the short chain and it glistened in the overhead light.

  I extended an open palm and McGarrity dropped it in, allowing me to inspect it more closely. I removed my gauntlet and dug my fingernail into the narrow groove, flipping open the cover and exposing the watch inside. Tiny silver cogs meshed together, visible beneath the ornately designed hands – but they didn’t move. I assumed the watch was broken, though I was about to discover that it was awaiting an external power source.

  When light streamed into the face of the watch it glowed from beneath the gears, causing the hands to spin rapidly in opposite directions. I tilted the timepiece upwards and allowed additional light to flood inside. A rumble from beneath buckled our knees. The tremors rocked the entire castle, causing the walls to shake and dust to jar loose from the brickwork. A large cylindrical tube emerged from the grass at the center of the garden, tearing through the turf, just as the pods did on level one. But this cylinder wasn’t a pod which would transport us to the third and final stage of The Spiral – it was much wider around, and twice as tall as everyone who surrounded it.

  The brushed steel casing hissed and popped open, slowly rotating into several pieces before retracting back into the earth. The platform that remained was obscured by billowing white smoke (which looked somewhat like dry ice, as if it had been added intentionally for effect). The outline of a massive structure was beginning to take shape behind the veil of smoke. When it finally dissipated, a familiar sight remained. It was an exact replica of Fudō-myōō: the armored exoskeleton that Cameron Frost had worn into Arena Mode. The suit he’d been wearing when I ended his life.

  “Holy shit,” McGarrity whispered. “That thing looks even bigger in person.”

  Every detail was the same; the shimmering silver casing, the red circular discs emblazoned on its shoulders, the glowing power core embedded into the breast plate, and the two expressionless red eyes that peered out from its rounded helmet. The suit’s design was another one of Frost’s nods to his favorite culture; in this case, the fictional robots known as ‘jaegers’. In Japanese cinema, jaegers were constructed to fight the oversized monsters that routinely attacked Tokyo, called ‘kaiju’. The most well known kaiju was a skyscraper-sized lizard named Godzilla, but he was just one of many. Over the last century, every movie monster imaginable had attempted to demolish the small Pacific island; from giant moths to fire-breathing gorilla slugs, there was always a new threat on the horizon. And each time the threat appeared, a giant robot controlled by fearless pilots was there to fight it off.

  The almost seven-foot Fudō exoskeleton was nowhere near the size of its on-screen counterparts – and unlike the jaegers, it required only a single pilot (most jaegers needed two, for reasons I never quite understood). Despite its slightly smaller scale, it was no less intimidating.

  With a sudden jerking motion and the sounds of grinding gears Fudō burst to life, causing us all to leap backwards. It reached over its shoulder and snatched the long curved katana from its back, and its eyes, glowing a menacing shade of red, peered down at us.

  “Welcome to the end of level two,” Frost’s digitized voice boomed from within the armor. “As you know, I elected not to participate in the second annual Arena Mode tournament, so unfortunately, I can’t be there to join you on the battlefield. I can, however, provide a worthy adversary: the crowning achievement of my company’s robotics division stands before you, and it has been outfitted with an AI. It will be more than capable of testing your skills.”

  I scanned the surrounding area, and not a single pod was in sight. There was nowhere to run, and we had no alternatives. If we wanted access to the third and final level, we had to fight Fudō; and from what I recall, the monstrous exoskeleton had very few chinks in its eight-hundred pounds of reinforced armor.

  The robot stepped from the circular pedestal and rea
died its sword, gripping the braided handle with both hands.

  I tore the grenade launcher from my back and fumbled with the barrel, rapidly attempting to twist it apart and load one of the two remaining shells. I wasn’t sure if the blast would be enough to stop it, but it would buy us some time.

  “Without my guidance,” Frost proclaimed, “Fudō will not have the same reaction time as I did, and will no doubt lack my grace and swordsmanship. However, as Miyamoto Musashi, the second-greatest samurai of all time once said, ‘Today is a victory over yourself of yesterday; tomorrow is your victory over lesser men’. And remember that the only reason a warrior is alive is t—”

  Frost’s barrage of historical quotes was cut short when McGarrity produced his broadsword, carving through Fudō with a single swipe. The top half of the robot slid to the ground, arms still gripping the sword, while the legs remained standing.

  McGarrity shot me a sidelong glance. “I don’t blame you for killing the bastard,” he said, “The guy never shuts the fuck up.” He clapped his hands, and with a flash of light the broadsword was gone.

  Brynja cautiously approached Fudō’s bisected torso and prodded at its head with the toe of her boot. The glowing red eyes faded to an icy grey, and a few errant sparks popped and fizzled from inside the breastplate.

  The circular disc where Fudō first appeared sank into the ground, replaced with a flat grey obelisk, engraved with the same handprint outline as the one we’d encountered before. I stepped towards it, and in the path between myself and the obelisk appeared a hologram. Once again it was Valeriya.

  “How are things going, Matthew Moxon?” Her tiny pink lips twitched at the corners as if she was suppressing a smile. She resisted, though the gesture would have been unnecessary; her eyes told the story. She was gloating, content with the emotional damage she’d caused me and everyone I swore to protect. “The shape-shifter made for a good show, although the Fudō armor was...disappointing. I expected more from the mind of Cameron Frost.”

  “Sorry you didn’t get to see more people die,” Peyton said sharply.

  Valeriya took a few short steps towards Peyton and gazed upward, brushing the long platinum curls from her face. “You misunderstand me,” she said politely, her eyes widening; she acted as if her feelings had been hurt by the accusation, though I doubted that was the case. “It is not death that pleases me. It is justice.”

  “This is justice?” Peyton shouted incredulously.

  “It is the only kind left,” Valeriya replied swiftly, turning her gaze towards me. “It is all we have. People like Matthew Moxon, the elite, have more wealth than entire countries. He does what he wishes: he buys and sells the poor at his leisure, trampling the small without looking underfoot, and even kills those he—”

  “Save the propaganda,” I interrupted. “The idiots in the Red Army might eat this shit up with a spoon, but you’re not going to convert anyone down here.”

  “You might be correct,” Valeriya said. “Although I wonder what the ghost thinks about her chances of escaping with her life. Perhaps she can he persuaded.” She turned her attention towards Brynja, strolling in her direction with her hands clasped behind her back. “It is not too late for you. Call off your creature, and return to the surface. No harm will come to you.”

  “No harm?” Brynja laughed. She crouched down to make eye contact with Valeriya’s holographic projection. “Oh, that’s rich. I’m the one who killed your brother, remember? And you’re going to let me walk? Just like that?”

  Valeriya nodded. “That is what my brother stood for. Love. Redemption. You can be forgiven if you simply ask for it. Just say the word, and you will have whatever you wish.”

  Brynja studied Valeriya’s innocent face as if she were actually considering the offer. “And you’ll sweeten the deal with some Kashstarter money, I’m guessing?”

  “That is up to you...although this situation is drawing to a close, and there is no need to keep up appearances. I know – and the world knows – what you desire, and it is not financial gain.” Valeriya’s crystal-blue eyes flicked towards me, and back to Brynja. “He does not care for you. Not the way you want him to.”

  “What is she talking about?” Peyton whispered.

  I shot her a glance and her eyes caught mine. My mouth opened, though I couldn’t produce a word. It was too much to explain, and this wasn’t the time. I shrugged and shook my head slowly, as if I was as confused by Valeriya’s statement as she was.

  Peyton frosted over, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

  “The Red Army will welcome you with open arms,” Valeriya said warmly. “Defect, Brynja. Join us, and you will have a chance to avoid The Nightmare. Avoid the pain and suffering of a slow, agonizing death.” She motioned dismissively towards Peyton and I. “You are not a part of this group, and never will be. There is no need to die with them.”

  Brynja, surprisingly, remained silent. She stood and stepped back, gazing off into the middle distance.

  “We’re not for sale,” McGarrity interjected, drawing Valeriya’s attention. “And there’s nothing you can throw at me that I can’t crush.”

  Valeriya actually smiled. “You seem amused, Steven McGarrity – as if this is a game. This ‘Spiral’ of Cameron Frost’s...it has been too easy for your liking?”

  He barked out a caustic laugh. “This shit has been a walk in the park. I’d actually appreciate a real challenge; something to give the home viewers a little thrill.” He motioned to nowhere in particular, playing to the simulcast audience that was watching. We had no idea where the micro-cameras were located, though we assumed they could be almost anywhere. He was likely gesturing towards at least one of them.

  “The Spiral,” Valeriya explained, “is locked into a set of pre-programmed events, or so I am told. I cannot stop the pods from arriving.” Her expression darkened, and the tiny smile vanished from her lips. “But I can add some more ‘excitement’, since that is what you desire.”

  He nodded, waving her forward with both hands. “Bring it on, bitch.”

  I stomped towards McGarrity and thrust my palm into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. “Shut your goddamned mouth,” I screamed. “She’s not fucking around here!”

  “No,” Valeriya said flatly. “I truly am not.”

  His smile only widened. McGarrity opened his hands, and with a flash of light the broadsword burst back to life, extending six feet into the air. He tightened his grip around the hilt and swung it in a figure-eight pattern. “Ready when you are.”

  Valeriya’s hologram reached forward, and her hand mimed the motion of adjusting a dial and pressing a keypad. Her body was being mapped, and projected in front of us as if she was standing just a few feet away, though her surroundings were effectively invisible. Whatever she was doing in The Spiral’s control room was a mystery to us. At least for a moment.

  The ceiling – which was essentially one enormous blue light bulb that stretched the length of the entire level – transformed from a brilliant powder blue to a deep, velvety black. We were immersed in a time-lapse video, where the day drifted into night in a matter of seconds; twinkling stars emerged from the darkness of space, and a crescent moon floated into the cloudless sky. From noon to midnight with the touch of a button.

  McGarrity’s sword flickered and dimmed. It remained intact but lost its brilliant shine. His smile, and his cocky demeanor, lost their shimmer just as quickly.

  Valeriya turned and spoke to someone we were unable to see – possibly a technician assisting her in the Spiral’s control room. She instructed that she would like to release the remaining units, and to ensure the facial recognition scanners were operational. She had to ensure that I was accurately mapped – she didn’t want me killed during the operation.

  “Take the offer,” I said to Brynja. “Take it and get out of here now, before it’s too late.”

  “And leave you here to die?” she shouted. “You’re smarter than this. Her offer is bullshit and you
know it. She’ll just torture and kill me the second I hit the surface.”

  Valeriya’s hologram stepped between us, gazing up at Brynja. Her eyes reflected an innocence that reminded me for a brief moment that she was still just a child. “Whatever you plan on doing, Brynja, you should do it now. My offer stands for only a few more seconds.” Something in her tone almost made me believe her. Or in the moment, my brain ignored the ‘tells’ that I’d memorized, and used to read people’s intentions – because I wanted to believe her. To believe that I could save Brynja by sending her up to the surface.

  “Matty,” Peyton said in a thin, panicked voice. “You need to see this.”

  I spun to see her pointing off into the distance. Her index finger was extended towards the darkness just beyond the castle walls. It was a pair of luminous red lights, rapidly approaching.

  “It is too late,” Valeriya said, shaking her head slowly. “For all of you. I know that you are a non-believer, Matthew Moxon. But if anyone else believes in a higher power, this would be the time to make your peace.” And with those words her hologram winked off, further darkening the area around us. Her projection had been emitting a soft light that illuminated the grassy knoll, and now I stood in relative darkness with Peyton, Brynja, McGarrity and Melvin, who was bearing his considerable incisors at the approaching lights.

  The glowing orbs brightened, and were joined by another pair in the distance. And another. And then another. And then dozens more appeared, and began to approach from behind us, and on either side.

  The artificial moon that cast a pale glow on the courtyard began to reveal the origins of the lights as they drew closer. They were the eyes of Fudō units. A hundred of them, hovering over the castle walls, closing in on every side.

  In unison, each one of them drew their swords.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The pods hadn’t even begun to surface. Registering each of us and climbing aboard would take minutes – three, maybe four. Optimistically, we had ninety seconds before the Fudō bots were on the ground, slicing away at everything that moved.