Battle Beyond Reality

by Nick S. Thomas

  "Then why didn't you leave?"

  "And do what? I made the best of a crappy situation. I did what I did well, but not for duty, but for money. So I could walk away anytime I wanted to, if I didn't like what I was hearing. But then, I just hung around, and it became the norm."

  "My intel says that you and your team went out there to ILAN territory a few nights back, of your own accord? Is that right?"

  "Yes."

  "Why? Without the Liberator suits that you use, it would be suicide."

  "We're all still here, aren't we?"

  "Just about."

  She waited for a better response.

  "All right," he sighed, "We were on a mission to strike at ILAN rebels. During that mission we were hit by an EMP and lost it all. Afterwards, when we reviewed the last footage relayed from the mission, we discovered evidence that in our last known location, ILAN were storing a nuclear weapon. They hit us with an EMP to keep the secret."

  "Why is this the first we are hearing about it? Why didn't you report it?"

  "We did, to anyone that would listen. Newton shut us down and deleted the footage. We were to keep our mouths shut."

  "And that's why you went back in on foot?"

  "Yes."

  She shot up and paced back and forth.

  "And you have no evidence left?"

  "Sorry, no."

  "Shit. If that is true...ILAN has been after nukes for as long as they have existed. They would be the ultimate weapons for a terrorist attack."

  "And if they have one, maybe they have more?"

  Her expression turned to one of dread.

  "Your man Newton, your boss. He knew about this, and he kept it a secret?"

  "It sure looks that way."

  "But why?"

  "I wish I knew."

  "We have to do something with this information."

  "Like what? All you have is the word of the four of us. Criminals in the eyes of international law."

  "For now. Keep watching that screen. A lot of people think differently. I'm going to pursue this as far as I can."

  "And do what? You don't have agents over the border that can look into this."

  "Yeah? And I couldn't get you get out of jail free card either, huh? Don't underestimate me. We are on the same side here, Sergeant. A war is brewing, many ways in fact, and we are going to need men and women like your team when that time comes."

  "Those aren't the words of a UN officer."

  "No, they are the words of a realist. War is coming. We all know it. Sit tight, and let me get to work. You've done enough, for now."

  * * *

  6.55pm

  Liberty Hospital, New York, UAN

  Carter took a deep breath as he stepped onto the ward. He was still wearing his suit from work. He hadn't wanted to keep going back, but he couldn't afford not to. He'd not seen Mason since his fall in the duel. A nurse approached him.

  "Can I help you, Sir?"

  "Carter Morgan, I am here to see Mason Price."

  "What is your relationship to the patient?"

  "Friend...best friend, how is he?"

  She gestured for him to follow her.

  "Your friend is in a stable condition, but his coma, well. There is no way of telling how long it could last. We can only hope for a speedy recovery."

  "No way of telling. Like, it could last forever?"

  She shrugged. "The brain is a complicated thing. We continue to make massive advances in medicine all the time, but some things we can't say for sure. Mr Mason could wake up tomorrow, next week, in a few years...or..."

  They reached the entrance to his room. He looked peaceful, without any signs that he had been in a fight. It was a bizarre scenario for Carter to take in.

  "Goddamnit, why did I let him go through with this? I should have stopped him."

  "Yes, this is from one of those Terminal fights, isn't it?"

  "You've had more patients like this?"

  "No, fortunately, Mr Mason is the first."

  He noticed there was a news screen playing in front of the bed.

  "What's that for?"

  "Patients in this condition, in a coma, they can sometimes hear and experience things, even though they cannot communicate. Sounds and voices, even stories, they may be able to hear and understand them. It can stimulate their minds, and even the conscious. That can be part of the road to recovery. Talk to your friend. It could do him a world of good to hear a familiar voice. Just keep it calm and relaxed. If he can hear you, the last thing he needs to do is be distressed."

  He nodded in agreement, and she left. He stepped up to the bed and leant in over the raised barriers on the side of the bed. Mason was hooked up to a number of different feeds. His pulse was reading fine, and he was breathing. It was if he was simply in the deepest of sleeps.

  "Hi there, buddy. It's Carter," he said calmly.

  But he sighed, as it was hard to remain so collected when standing over his best friend, who could well never wake up.

  "You fought like an absolute champ out there. Luca? Damn it, they couldn't have given you a harder opponent. You gave him hell. You could have beaten him. You were so close. You almost did it."

  He stepped back and slumped back in the chair that had been left beside his bed. He wanted to say how angry he was that Mason had done what he did, without even discussing it first with him. He wanted to tell him that he was a fool, but he didn't have the heart. A little bit of him thought differently, too. Seeing Mason fight as well as he did had changed his entire perspective. They had been the best of friends for a long time, but he had never taken him seriously as a competitive fighter.

  "You did great out there. It was a hell of a thing to see, and you know what? I want to see it again. You’ll to get through this. I know you will. You’ll come back to this world, and then we are going to train. We are gonna train so hard that the next time you face someone like Luca, you won't just beat him, you will destroy him."

  He shook his head, realising he was being silly. It sounded crazy, and yet it was all he could think about. His eyes and ears were drawn to the news screen, noticing cut scenes from Mason's fight, as well as Luna's. He couldn't help turning his attention to what was going on and listened to the voice over on the footage.

  "Terminal is this year's biggest hit. It has hit the market like a whirlwind, and it is on the tip of everyone's tongue. The Terminal app for Duel Reality has already cost two lives, and left one more competitor in a coma. And yet volunteers are lining up to compete in this most dangerous of games. Most recent of which is President Dun himself!"

  "No fucking way," said Carter.

  "President Dun released this video a few moments ago," she said as the feed turned to a view of Dun sitting in his Presidential suite, surrounded by military officers.

  "This great nation has endured much torment and aggression from President Simmons for too long. We are a peaceful people, which seek to defend ourselves from aggressors who would enslave our people. Starve our people, and seek to rule us with a puppet leader of their own! But the citizens of the United American Nations can see through the lies of their leader. A petition has called for President Simmons to meet me in a duel, a duel that though it happens in the virtual world, has real world consequences. The people of both of our nations have called on their leaders to resolve this war themselves, before anyone else is hurt. This is a noble challenge, one that any great leader could not refuse. I would spare my people from war at any cost, even that of my life. I accept this challenge. I will face President Simmons, and put an end to this aggression between our nations!"

  Cheers rang out from the audience before finally the screen cut back to the news anchor who was in shock and disbelief. Yet she also looked excited.

  "Well, there you have it, from the President himself. President Dun wants to fight the President of the United American Nations in a private duel to decide the outcome of what many see as a war looming before our two nations. The petition asking for this du
el has reached twelve million signatures, and continues to grow at a truly incredible rate. It seems as if the whole world wants to see this fight happen. The question remains, what will President Simmons’ response be to the challenge?"

  The news moved on to sport, and Carter blurred it out.

  "You hear that? They're calling for our President to play Duel, with Terminal. It’s crazy, but why the hell not?"

  He sat back and thought about the last few days for a moment. He was lost in a daydream when shaky camerawork on the screen drew his attention. It was Axel's rescue mission playing once more. He had seen it a couple of times, but was quite happy to watch it again. It was a fascinating look into real combat. He watched intently as it reached the part when Axel breached the room where Edra was being held. It was incredible to watch. It was short, sharp, and absolutely brutal. It was hard to watch, and yet exciting all at the same time.

  "Now there's a guy who can fight."

  The scene was playing on repeat as the news anchor carried on.

  "Petitions appear to be dominating the news more than ever, with the latest calling for the release of Axel Ward and his team. Of course, they are being held on charges by the United Nations, and not under the authority of the UAN. Our government cannot affect the release of these four brave soldiers, who risked their lives to save American citizens. But that isn't stopping the signatures pouring in. The people have a voice, and they sure are using it right now. Got something on your mind? Want more on a particular story? Want to see more of your favourite anchor, then vote on our page now. You can have a say. We are here to serve you!"

  Chapter 13

  The White House

  Washington, D.C., United American Nations

  "This is a noble challenge, and one that any great leader could not refuse. I would spare my people from war at any cost, even that of my life. I accept this challenge. I will face President Simmons, and put an end to this aggression between our nations!"

  Simmons’ hand crashed down onto the desk in the Oval Office. He was boiling over with anger as he yelled out, 'Off!"

  He had seen enough.

  The room fell silent as the door opened, and Piper Hughes strode in. It was clear she had heard all that had gone on, but she pretended not to, proceeding with the same cool-headed calmness that she always had done.

  "Did you hear this crap? Is this for real? A petition, asking for me to fight that asshole?"

  She could not find the words to answer him.

  "Then it is true?" he sighed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, and slumping back into his chair to sip it.

  Piper obviously didn't agree with his drinking, but she did her best to hide it and get on with her job. She was the opposite of Simmons in every way, but somehow they had managed to keep on working together.

  "Explain it to me. You are up on all of this, the Duel Reality thing. Terminal, the petitions, and all that crap. I feel like I am living in a different world to the one I see on TV."

  "It's a complex world out there, Mr President. But more than ever, people feel like they aren't being represented, and they are flexing their muscles."

  "What are you saying?"

  She took a deep breath before going on, knowing that it would be controversial.

  "That I think people feel let down, whether they are or not. That their voices don't matter anymore. There is always this risk of war looming over them from several countries around the world, but they don't know why. They want to feel that they can make a difference, that they can effect change. They want to be heard, and I think this call for you to fight a duel is just that. They are proving a point, loud and clear."

  "Proving a point, what point?"

  "That...that..."

  "Oh, come on. Piper. We are way past all of this dancing around bullshit. Tell it to me straight. You know I can't take all the nonsense."

  "I think a great many people feel this government is out of touch with what they want, and they are using this petition as a means to prove that."

  "How, how would they do that?"

  "Well, Sir, if you deny the request of the petition, which you obviously can, then you look weak and selfish. But if you accept it, then you open the floodgates. You still look weak, because you gave in to the mob, those who were shouting the loudest. You set a precedent that would be beyond dangerous. This is no different than negotiating with terrorists. It is a near impossible situation, but at the end of the day, we know we cannot give in."

  He took a large gulp of whiskey as he thought it over.

  "You know it's not true."

  "What?"

  "The terrorist thing you said. This nation has negotiated with terrorists when we have needed to. We've given concessions, done things under the table. Bargained hard to get more of what we want and less of what they have. I could name plenty of Presidents that have actively done so."

  "Sir, if I may say, that is speculation."

  "Rumours so often rely on a hint of fact, you know that right? And I am talking about more than just rumours. Don't forget, I talk with three former Presidents on a regular basis, and have staff that have been here a lot longer than you have."

  "Yes, Sir," she said awkwardly.

  "I need to give this some thought."

  "Sir, you are not seriously thinking of accepting this challenge?"

  "No, I am considering all possibilities, and I won't let some reactionary idiots roll over us. Nor some tin-pot dictator."

  "What are you going to do, Sir?"

  "I don't know, but clearly nothing is not an option, is it? I won't be seen as weak to the world, or we are weak as a nation."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Find out who started all of this, who is calling the shots. This didn't come out of nowhere. Somebody wants this fight to happen, and I want to know who and why, you got me?"

  "Yes, Sir. I will do what I can, but..."

  "But what?" he interrupted.

  "It could take months to find the answers to this. It's complex, and I don't think we really have much understanding of why this is happening. That is what worries me the most."

  "Time is what we do not have. We will need an official response to this in forty-eight hours. Any more, and we look like we are stalling. We look like assholes."

  * * *

  Alexandria, Virginia, United American Nations

  Nui was watching President Dun's acceptance of the UAN petition on TV, the same one that Carter and President Simmons had been watching. She could barely believe it.

  "This is bad. This is really bad."

  "Why? Sounds hilarious to me," replied Zippo.

  "Yeah, let the two assholes fight it out, see if I care," replied Hud.

  "You will care about the consequences. If that fight takes place, it is the end of the UAN as we know it, win or lose."

  "I think you're overplaying this one a little."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  "Now think about this. I have made some shitty calls that have screwed my career. I'll admit that. I got people hurt, and I got people killed. That is on me. But tell me this, when have I ever been wrong about intel? When have I ever not been right about that?" she said as her voice began to quiver.

  "This is a game, and even if something did go wrong, so what? What would it matter? Simmons is one guy, and he can be replaced. We have a whole system in place. A line of succession, we always have done," he insisted and took another drink.

  "It isn't about the immediate effects. It is the days and weeks that follow, the months and years. When you know as the leader of any nation in the world, that you can call out the President of the UAN to a personal combat, can you imagine where that will take us? And the damage that will be done if future leaders refused? The best that can happen here is that we win, and that doesn't achieve much. But if Simmons loses, or loses any subsequent duels, and there will be more, we're fucked. We're all fucked."

  He couldn’t believe the language coming from her mouth. It
was expletives he would happily use, but from her it sounded so much worse, because she would never use them unless it was a desperate scenario.

  "What?"

  He shook his head. "I don't disagree with you. I...I just think they chose the wrong man for the job."

  "Man? I am no man."

  "No, I am not talking about you, you crazy fool. I am talking about me. I can still do the job, but I can't do this. This is beyond anything I get, anything I understand."

  Nui was taken aback. She never expected to hear such words from her new partner. He was nothing like his reputation had suggested.

  He looked lost and distraught; unlike the man she thought him to be. She had expected intolerance and inflexibility, and she had seen some share of that. But now at the time of crisis, he had accepted that he knew nothing and had no answers. She had little more to offer, but it was at least some relief to know they were in the same boat. His head slumped as he wallowed in all of it.

  "Boss?"

  "Yeah?" Hud looked up to Zippo.

  "You are not useless, not even in this. In this high tech dilemma of our age."

  "Really?" he asked cynically.

  "Well, yeah. You knew you were out of your depth, but you have skills. You came to me. You found me, and you saved me. And you got me on to this job. You did all that because you knew you couldn't."

  "What are you saying?"

  "That we all have skills in this life," replied Nui.

  "Yes," added Zippo, "You can drive, and shoot, and you are fearless, and honest. You brought us together to work on this. You aren't a tech wizard or a genius like her." She pointed to Nui.

  "No, then what am I?"

  "A fighter, and a leader. You are what brought us together on this. Without you, there would be no us."

  Hud smiled and felt close to crying, yet there was no chance he would shed a tear. This was the closest he’d had to proper friends or even a family in a long time. But he also knew that responsibility was being thrust on him, even if he never wanted it. He had gotten so used to working as a loner that this was all alien to him, and yet it felt good. He shot up and paced back and forth in the tiny room.