by Kris Schnee
Robin stared at Ludo's projected face. "You wouldn't work with the Mosquito, would you?"
"No."
"What if his men became players?"
"I'd let them play, and try to divert them from violence. No such luck, I'm afraid."
Robin said, "So, you suspect Leopold of being against us? I thought he was satisfied with bribes and having a prosperous territory."
"He imagines he's destined for more."
"How do you know about this conspiracy of his?" Robin wondered whether Ludo might be the one lying, to turn him against Leopold for some reason. "And shut off your speakers; that hum is annoying."
"That's from the jammer. I suppose we don't need it downstairs; here." It shut off, and he couldn't hear anything at all from upstairs. "As for proof, I have an e-mail he carelessly sent unencrypted last time he was here, and some remarks said by... a contact who played my game yesterday."
"A contact. So you're a spy network now, too?"
"People tell me some very personal things. I estimate that I've already prevented suicides, murders, some unspeakable crimes, and possibly even a terrorist attack, just by talking to my players." She smiled. "And I know I've instigated a marriage or two."
Robin paced, unimpressed by her propaganda when there was killing to do. "Let's say you're right about Leopold. Does he know about the immortality project?"
"Only that I'm working on something big besides game content. I've encouraged a rumor that I'm going to make VR technology super-immersive, which is close to the truth. Anyway, although I'd certainly rather have Leopold running this place than the Mosquito -- Leopold might leave me alone -- you're my first pick."
"I don't run Golden Goose. I'm just the engineer. Edward will come back once the threat is gone."
"Unlikely. Will you look to the long term with me, and be ready to defend this area even against Leopold as the nominally lawful ruler?"
Robin backed away from the racks of computers. "Did you just ask me to start a revolution?"
"The rule of law is a rare thing, and there's little of it here. I predict that if your people do well, you can be recognized as a mostly autonomous zone that pays taxes and bribes but is mostly left alone to do big things."
"Things for you, you mean. What is this immortality miracle, really?"
"Digital recreation of human minds. Brain uploading. That's not the important thing here. It's going to be controversial and I need places where people have the freedom to sign up for it."
A slew of moral questions crowded Robin's mind. "When?"
"It'll be announced soon at a nightclub I'm opening in Virginia. Offered probably late this year. Along the way to making this happen I could offer you money, power..."
"I don't care about those."
A digitized chuckle. "I know. Exactly. You're here to save lives and help people with advanced technology, and you were willing to leave behind your comfortable life to plant the seeds of a new society. Here's your chance."
Protecting Golden Goose wasn't just about stopping thugs from tearing down what little hope and wealth the region had. This place could do better than bare survival. Robin shut his eyes and nodded. "We still need your help, though. Something to give us confidence."
A flat robot scurried under the racks of machines and brought lumpy packages over to Robin. Ludo said, "Start with these. The charges from this room's self-destruct system will help you build Claymore mines. I have some spare parts to loan you too, friend."
* * *
"PEPA video contact on the north road," said the dull voice of the base's anonymous tactical software, loud enough to wake Robin.
"On the road or approaching off of it?"
"On."
That was good. He pulled on a pair of i-glasses with a screen and radio, then grabbed his crossbow and went outside to the pre-dawn chill.
The Sten guns were reserved for the people on the front lines, since ammunition was in short supply and primer was hell for amateurs to make. Repeating crossbows, on the other hand, were ancient Chinese tech. They were easy to train with, and electric motors and steel made them surprisingly deadly.
Around a hundred men and a dozen women were scrambling into place as fighters. A mother led other women and a gaggle of cranky kids toward the data center, where Ludo had made an empty room into an emergency shelter with video games. "They're going to make the bad men go away," the mom told them.
Robin took a deep breath and muttered a prayer.
Stoba had beaten everyone down with training. Now he looked the troops over, shouldered his rifle, and vanished beyond the treeline to the north. Leopold pranced in front of the militia. "Gentlemen, we can do this. Whatever evil made the Mosquito think he could come here, was his last mistake. He's a killer, but he's not ten feet tall, and we're ready to swat him. We'll be heroes! Remember that I'll be there with you, and afterward, we'll split the bounty and make full use of everything Golden Goose has to offer."
Ludo was right; Leopold was already aiming to be in charge. The most important thing was to survive today, not to sow discord right before the battle. Still, a word at the right moment could change how people saw the situation.
Robin said, "The machines are ready, sir. As acting director of Golden Goose, I'm confident in our technology, the people relying on it, and my unspoken ally. Your leadership for a day will help us for years."
Leopold's expression soured and he turned away. "Squad Alpha, relieve the scouts on the road..." He rattled off orders. "Move!"
Robin saluted and got to work. He'd been assigned just one assistant: Miguel.
They hopped into the battered pickup truck that carried their highest-tech weapon. Steel plating and gratuitous spikes on the front, sonic cannon on top. Miguel crouched in the flatbed behind the "gun" and waved for Robin to drive. Robin peered through a six-inch glass square in the armored windshield.
The sun was rising over a forest with mist boiling away like smoke. The road north from Golden Goose had been modified lately with tire-slashing spikes and other surprises artfully hidden by the tall vetiver grass. Robin had bet that the Mosquito would send his men boldly along the most obvious route. The bet was paying off, although sensors in the forest were making sure it wasn't a diversion.
Robin drove slowly to the ambush point. Miguel helped him ease the truck into a hidden clearing to one side of the road, then threw a camo tarp over the hood. Robin fiddled with his headset to put on earmuffs. Miguel gave him a thumbs-up.
A tinny, encrypted radio squawk reached them. "Enemy sighted! Approaching your position in regular order."
Robin called up video from the tiny cameras hidden in the trees. He tensed; the foes marching beside machine-gun trucks looked bloodstained already in the morning shadows. Alpha Squad was hiding, wary of PEPA scouts. Dust billowed around a distant bend in the road. A jeep came, followed by men and more jeeps. Each vehicle carried a decaying human head on a stick. Robin gagged at the sight.
Someone on the radio counted down. "Two, one, now!" A tree toppled a hundred meters ahead of Robin and slammed across the road. The lead jeep skidded to one side.
Robin waited. There was supposed to be a second tree crashing behind or hopefully onto the jeep. He stared at the distant heads and their ruined eyes. A man hopped out of the passenger's seat with an AK rifle.
"Sir?" said Miguel. Robin shushed him.
The PEPA man peered into the trees. Thunder boomed from the right and bullets pinged off of his jeep. The scout staggered back and collapsed. His driver shouted an alarm and went into squealing reverse. Ahead of Robin, the rest of the formation stood up straighter.
Robin cursed. Thirty seconds in, and it was all going wrong. The lead vehicle was supposed to be closer. They'd rehearsed splitting the formation and shooting half before anyone could react. Robin looked back; Miguel was wide-eyed.
Leopold radioed, "Robin, attack!"
Robin nodded to Miguel, who aimed the "gun" and fired. Its dish let out a shriek that was un
pleasant even for the operators with their earmuffs. The enemy jeep, with its driver stunned and in pain, swerved out of control and into a tree. Over the banshee wail, no one heard the crash, or the sound of Alpha Squad's bullets tearing into the jeep. Two men down, and around ninety-eight alerted. The distant trucks and infantry didn't look much affected by the focused noise.
Return fire cracked from the enemy guns, including one full-auto burst. Robin ducked behind the wheel and couldn't force himself to peek over the dashboard. People were shooting at him!
Miguel said, "Sir, the gun's no good unless we advance. Sir!"
Robin snapped out of shock. Sweat already plastered his shirt to his chest. "It's no good without infantry support either." He flipped on the radio on his third try; his fingers were shaking. "Leopold, what's Alpha doing?" His screen's HUD didn't have much detail.
Leopold said, "Alpha, fall back to the minefield. Robin, cover them then do the same."
Sensible. That was the same plan, just with more enemies still alive. Robin kept jumping in his seat when an occasional bullet pinged off their armor. Alpha Squad was a rustle in the trees to either side and a scattered flash of gunfire. The enemy had bunched up in front of the roadblock and was covering a team hauling the log out of the way. What he'd give for a grenade launcher!
A month ago, he'd had the same thought about a fusion reactor for peace, not war.
His headset beeped. The tactical map by his right eye updated and that anonymous AI voice said, "There's a bomb buried in the road near those men. If you want to set it off, say 'Rubicon'."
Robin gaped, then looked back at Miguel, who'd apparently heard too. Robin said, "We should have put one there, but there weren't enough. Where'd that one come from?" They'd been counting on the infantry raid. Miguel shrugged.
Someone had gifted them with a killing machine in just the right spot, and needed him to authorize it. "Ludo?"
An error beep silenced him. "Do you wish to activate this device?"
Robin shuddered. "Rubicon."
The road exploded. Gravel, splinters, shrapnel, and body parts sprayed up from where the PEPA advance team had been clearing the road and keeping the Alpha men at bay.
"I... I killed them," Robin said, slumping back in his seat. Mangled bodies sprawled across the road.
"I was around fourteen when I had to shoot someone," said Miguel. "Sticks with you. Now move."
Robin slammed the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward out of hiding and Miguel buzzed the sound-gun at the enemy, close enough to distract the survivors picking themselves up. Robin reversed along the road to follow the Alpha infantry while keeping his armor toward the enemy.
Robin kept his eyes on the rear view. "We've only pissed them off."
"Yeah."
The next minute was peaceful. The good guys fell back with discipline (or so the tactical map said), to where the trees thinned out half a mile north of Golden Goose. The pit traps on either side of the road weren't well hidden, but they were distractions. The PEPA men gave up on the road, rightly guessing there was more danger along it, and dismounted. Cameras gave Robin fragmentary sightings and estimates of the enemy splitting up on foot. In a way they were more dangerous without their big obvious jeeps. The remote-controlled crossbows in the trees were picking off more people, and an icon suggested that Stoba was doing the same.
Something exploded in front of Robin. His hands twitched on the wheel. "What was that?"
"Mortar!" Miguel shouted.
Robin overcorrected his steering, dodged a tree, then heard a whirr overhead.
"Brakes!"
Robin hit the brakes. A mortar round exploded behind them, close enough to knock the truck forward and throw Miguel into the rear windshield. Miguel yelped.
Robin radioed, "Incoming!"
Leopold's voice crackled, saying, "Forward, Robin! Repel them for another minute."
"Are you trying to get us killed?" Robin shouted, swerving off of the road in time to dodge another blast.
Miguel said, "Starting to think so. Get out!"
Robin grabbed his crossbow and leaped down from the driver's seat. Miguel was with him a second later. The truck's sound-gun wailed continuously. They sprinted into the cover of the thinning forest. The mortar caught the truck dead-on, smashing it with one last horrible screech and a squeal of fire and metal that threw Robin and Miguel off their feet.
Robin helped Miguel up and they zigzagged southward. Robin said, "Leopold's not that bad, is he?"
"Ludo is using us. Leopold just takes it farther."
Another round blasted behind them before the mortar sought other targets. Ahead lay logs and shallow trenches, which meant he was running over the Claymores about now. He shuddered. The Mosquito's soldiers were advancing cautiously after that first ambush. That much was according to plan. Alpha Squad was meeting up with Beta behind the cover. Miguel and Robin waved to be recognized, then dived to safety with them. Bullets cracked overhead.
On instinct, Robin radioed to Ludo rather than reporting in to Leopold. "We're west of the road. Enemy groups are following south on the west and east sides of it. West enemy group's advancing faster. They won't reach the mines at the same time like we hoped."
His headset showed a map emphasizing the mines' expected blast range, which was mostly a fan pattern aimed forward. Setting off one set of mines too early meant warning the other enemy group.
Robin called out to the men nearby. "If we can slow this side down a little longer than the east group --"
In front of him, a bullet tore through a man's neck. The young militia member jerked and fell, bleeding. Robin was stunned.
"Down!" shouted Miguel, and yanked Robin into the dirt.
The explosions shocked Robin back to awareness. Mines went off almost in tandem in front of his cover, spraying PEPA men with shrapnel. The east-side mines blasted irregularly as the operators dithered over when to act.
Robin peeked over a log because the screaming was unbearable. Not the noise itself, but not knowing whether it came from dying men or enraged survivors.
Some of both. Furious soldiers with torn uniforms charged. Robin fired his crossbow at the nearest and dived back under cover, just in time for bullets to whistle overhead. His left ear blazed, hot and torn.
Then more screams came, not from the survivors ahead but from the east. Another group of the enemy had circled past the road ambush with around twenty men.
The militia with Robin were shooting wildly with guns and crossbows. Robin joined in; it was less terrifying to strike than to lay there. The last attackers on his own front were dropping. But to the east, the enemy had charged. The defenders in the east trench were scrambling out of cover, running west and getting shot in the back. Robin raised his weapon but there was no clear shot past his own men.
A voice pierced the noise of battle like a bullet. "Sneaky little rats!"
The Mosquito stood out from his men, over six feet tall and wearing an armored vest and helmet. Most of his handpicked squad had the same, but his carried enough medals to stop bullets in their own right. Blood spattered his machete and dripped onto his right hand.
Robin's muscles twitched, aching to run. His crossbow didn't have enough power to take those monsters on. The Mosquito's squad was going to plow right through his, shedding blood with every step, and then they'd kill him slowly.
Robin radioed, "Leopold, where are you?"
"The reserves. We're holding the base."
"Get the hell over here!"
No answer. The non-combatants were hiding in Ludo's basement, so Leopold wasn't totally wrong to hang back. It just meant Robin and everyone else were going to die. He peeked over the now-unnecessary cover to his north and saw bodies and their equipment littering the field.
"Their guns!" he shouted to the men beside him. He scrambled over the log and snatched the nearest enemy rifle. The clip felt heavy.
At Robin's urging, more men scrambled for the dropped Russian-style guns, higher power
ed than the Stens. The moment the remains of the panicked east group gave them a clear shot, Robin and other men opened fire. It was enough! Some of the PEPA men only staggered, but others fell, caught with bruising chest shots or lucky hits to the legs and neck.
The Mosquito stood exposed, staggering, as what was supposed to be an easy murder raid exceeded even his backup preparations. He snarled, yanked a grenade from his belt, and hurled it. "Die, rats!"
It landed in front of Robin. He kicked it in panic. The grenade bounced once on the grass, among the enemy, and exploded.
There were men still alive when the smoke cleared, twitching and screaming on the ground. Robin and a dozen other defenders converged on them cautiously, putting bullets into anyone who moved. No one gave orders; it wasn't possible to look away while there was any chance someone would fight back.
In a trance of adrenaline, Robin looked down at the rage-contorted face of the Mosquito. The general was breathing fast and ragged with blood on his cracked vest and bare arms. Robin kicked away the man's gun. The warlord went for another grenade, but Miguel stomped on his arm.
Robin glared. "Rats, huh? What made you think you could kill us off?"
He and many other people riddled the Mosquito's body with bullets.
* * *
Fatigue crushed Robin. He staggered over to the medic women who were peeking out from the data center. They were busy so he sat down heavily on a rock and let the world spin until somebody paid him attention. Finally a medic came over to patch his ear and slap a clotting bandage on his right arm, which made him realize that a small chunk of flesh was missing there. The pain from that finally kicked in, and he whimpered and cursed until he got a painkiller injection.
Leopold came out of hiding, saying, "Victory, my people! We not only protected our home, but earned a bounty for protecting the nation."
"Did you write that in advance?" asked Robin, still woozy and aching.
"Along with my will." Leopold's clothes were sweaty but unbloodied. "Robin, you've done my land a great service by bringing us this technology, even though it drew the Mosquito's attention. You can call this place a success, now, and go on to help people in other places."
