The Hidden Reality (Alex Pella, #2)

by Stephen Martino

  Bang. Clank. Boom!

  The clamoring continued. Mentally exhausted, Alex forced himself to stand and walk toward the edge of the tent. The commotion had broken his mental link with The New Reality computer system.

  He did not know how long he had been away from his troops and had no wish to arouse any suspicion by lingering too long inside the tent. Ignoring his remaining headache, he forced himself to walk outside. No longer warm and humid, the skies had turned dark and a cool breeze blowing in from the gulf had chilled the air.

  To his surprise, his entire army was breaking camp and packing their supplies. Carts were filled, tents stowed and horses loaded. It was like clockwork as every man had their assignment and was executing it with the utmost efficiency.

  Alex scrambled up to the nearest soldier. Recognizing the man’s face, he grabbed him by the shoulders and asked, “Admetos, what’s all the excitement about?”

  “King Alexander, Parmenio has ordered an immediate withdrawal of the entire army.”

  “Under whose command?” Alex shouted, ignoring the sharp pain that suddenly shot through his head.

  “I do not know. I’m just following orders.”

  Alex threw down his hands in disgust. Not only had he failed to acquire the lock, but now he also seemed to have lost control of his entire army.

  “Parmenio! Parmenio!” Alex yelled as he sludged through the wet sand along the Syrian beach. Never had he been so frustrated. Not even Samantha had raised his blood pressure to such a level.

  Looking around the camp, he saw his trusted steed Bucephalus being groomed by a few of his attendants. Not wasting any time, Alex ran over to his prized horse and mounted its back with one mighty leap. The great black stallion instantly came to attention, awaiting its master’s command.

  Surprised by Alex’s abrupt interruption, his servants seemed startled and stood motionless. But after a brief second, they all gained their composure and quickly handed Alex the reigns to his horse.

  “Parmenio!” Alex called while quickly surveying the entire camp. “Parmenio!” he yelled again at the top of his voice.

  Alex knew that if he lost control of his army, he would inevitably be put to death. Remembering what Harding had told him about the consequences of serious physical injury in this virtual world, he could take no chances. Plus, he knew that if he did not succeed, all his friends and loved ones back in the real world would be doomed.

  No one responded as the army quickly packed their gear and readied themselves for departure. Parmenio was nowhere in sight, and Alex’s calls appeared to be drowned out by the commotion around him.

  Alex pulled Bucephalus’ reigns taut and nudged him in the ribs with his heel. The horse swiftly responded and began to speed down the beachhead, negotiating his way through the soldiers.

  “Parmenio… where are you?” Alex yelled. “Parmenio!”

  The horse galloped even faster as Alex continued to push the steed to its limits. With remarkable precision, Alex rode his horse through the camp, dodging all obstacles along the way. Sand spewed from beneath Bucephalus’ hooves as he galloped unabated down the beach.

  Fortunately for Alex, years of flying his aero-bike made him a natural equestrian. The skills he gained from racing provided him the ability to quickly acquire the expertise needed to ride such a powerful stallion as Bucephalus.

  Through the crowd of soldiers, Alex finally caught sight of his target. Parmenio, riding atop his equally muscular horse, was spotted mingling among the pikemen soldiers.

  Alex made a hard right and rode Bucephalus through the lot of soldiers. The men darted out of the way as to not be trampled underneath Bucephalus’ hooves.

  Finally noticing Alex, Parmenio turned his horse in order to address the rapidly approaching king. “Good morning, King Alexander. I was just going to have my men awaken you,” he said in greeting.

  “Parmenio!” berated Alex. “Under whose authority did you command these men to break camp?”

  The soldiers around them stopped packing and watched the showdown commence. There had always been friction between Parmenio and Alexander, but it had never been carried to this degree in the past. Their curiosity was tempered by angst. Away from home and deep within enemy territory, the soldiers certainly had no wish to see a rift form within the command structure.

  Parmenio responded remorsefully, “King Alexander, accept my apologies. I did not wish to wake you.” Bowing his head for forgiveness, he continued, “With our upcoming battle, I thought it best you receive a proper rest.”

  “My sleeping habits are none of your concern. I should have you quartered and thrown out into the bay as food for the fish.”

  “I meant no harm,” apologized Parmenio, lowering his head even closer to his horse.

  “I will have no insubordination among my officers,” scolded Alex. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, King Alexander. I was only reacting to news brought to us by Nearchos.”

  “What news?” asked Alex impatiently.

  “He arrived by sea in a trireme, just as the storm passed earlier this morning, with urgent news of the Persian army’s movement.”

  “And no one informed me—the commander of the entire Macedonian army? Where is Nearchos now?”

  Parmenio pointed to a weathered soldier wrapped in animal skins sitting along the edge of a nearby horse-drawn wagon. The man held the warm animal pelts close as he shivered profusely in the cool morning air. His long black hair and beard were still soaked from the passing rain, and his eyes seemed overburdened from his recent voyage.

  “This discussion is not over,” added Alex.

  Now turning his immediate attention to Nearchos, he galloped over to the wagon in which the man was sitting. While drawing closer, he noted Nearchos’ color to be slightly blue and that red mucus dripped from both his nostrils.

  Alex dismounted his horse and propped himself up on the back of the wagon next to his hypothermic naval commander. Nearchos initially was not aware of Alex’s arrival and stared blankly out into the distance.

  Alex leaned forward and empathetically said, “Nearchos, it appears you have traversed rough weather to bring us urgent news from the north.”

  Nearchos slowly focused his eyes. Upon recognizing who was sitting next to him, he was surprised and exhilarated all at once. After regaining his composure, he said, through chattering teeth, “King Alexander! Where are my manners?”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Alex said while wrapping the animal pelts more tightly around him. “Take your time.”

  “Thank you. We spotted the entire Persian army marching through a narrow valley pass in the Amanus Mountains and now heading southwards past Issus.” With fear in his eyes he then shuttered, “Their size… their size! They’re coming to get us!”

  “No need to get excited,” Alex assured. “Just tell me what you saw.”

  “As if no man in the entire Persian Empire were spared,” Nearchos exclaimed wide-eyed. “They marched in numbers too large to count. From one end of the valley to the other, they advanced like a vast sea made of men.”

  Alex remembered that Darius did have the support of a much larger army. In fact, the ratio was far from promising. Compared to his 40,000 men, Darius boasted an army totaling 250,000.

  Despite the allure of facing the Persian army in an epic battle like the original Alexander the Great, he did not like the notion of getting killed while doing so.

  Alex patted Nearchos on the back. “The entire Macedonian army is in your debt. You have done us all a great service. I will personally see to it that your alcohol rations are tripled for the next month and that all your debt back home is forgiven.”

  Before Alex had the opportunity to stand, Nearchos dropped the animal pelts and grabbed him by the shoulder. “King Alexander,” he fervently added, “that is not all! They bring with them mighty beasts of enormous size the likes of which no Macedonian has ever seen. I cannot bear to think what an animal like that could do to our ran
ks!”

  Alex realized right away that Nearchos was referring to an elephant. Never before seen on the European continent, it must have struck awe into his heart when he first caught sight of it.

  “Do not worry,” Alex reassured. “No animal is too great for the might of the entire Macedonian army. Get well, sailor, and keep this news between us.”

  Alex departed from the wagon. Upon mounting, the ramifications of the situation quickly became apparent: he was trapped in The New Reality with no means to contact the outside world, physically vulnerable to myriad ways of dying, and without the lock. All in all, not the situation he wanted to be in.

  “Sir?” one of the soldiers asked. “What are your orders?”

  “We march north,” Alex shouted. Without other recourse, he had no other option. If he retreated for a battle later, he would be considered a coward. However, marching north only meant markedly increasing his risk of death by engaging in a massive battle where he was enormously outnumbered.

  As Alex was about to leave, a searing heat shot through his head. All the commotion and his recent entrance into The New Reality computer system must have overwhelmed his posterior cingulate cortex. In excruciating pain, he fell from his horse, hitting the ground.

  As the world around him began to go dark, a distinct image appeared in his mind.

  Achilles’ shield.

  Chapter_25

  Samantha felt as if her stomach were doing somersaults. Though the stratoskimmer’s gravity dampeners were designed to maximally decrease G-forces, their rapid decent overwhelmed these buffers.

  Samantha could barely breathe as the mounting G-force overwhelmed her ability to expand her lungs. Marissa, too, gulped for air in this oppressive environment. Though they wanted to scream, their deflated lungs provided them with no air to utter a single sound.

  The Atlantic Ocean became bigger and more distinct the closer they approached. Within a second, Samantha could see the waves’ white foam crashing down upon the water. The sight provided her with a brief moment of peace as she remembered her younger carefree days of playing at the beach. She also recalled fleeting memories of the good times she and Alex had at the shore in their early 20s—drinking at the sandy bars and hanging out with friends. It provided her solace when the end seemed but a moment away.

  Tom slowly moved his hand up to the dashboard using every fiber of muscle strength he had in an effort to overcome the unrelenting force of gravity. His tendons and ligaments were pushed to the limits as they strained to their maximum capacity. With one final effort he pushed a yellow button, which caused sizzling smoke to encase their entire ship, obscuring all visibility outside the windshield.

  They were then violently jolted as the ship suddenly began to spin. Samantha bit her lips and swallowed, attempting her best not to vomit. Marissa fared no better under the circumstances; for a moment she felt death would be the preferable option.

  “Whoa!” Tom finally shouted as the ship stabilized.

  Though they still could not see outside their windshield, only holographic images of two ships remained on it as opposed to the two dozen that had been cluttering it moments before.

  Tom then flipped a switch from underneath the dashboard and the steering wheel expanded. Two semicircular wheels full of buttons and lights emerged from both its sides, creating a massive yet intricate steering column.

  “Time to even the odds,” Tom said, now repositioning his hands on the wheel. It reminded him of his special ops days, flying a covert mission. A mix of adrenaline and genuine enthusiasm pumped through his veins as he activated one of the new switches that had emerged on the expanded wheel.

  Red crosshairs appeared on a submarine-shaped white ship displayed on the windshield. Tom pushed another button and the ship began to blur and finally pixelate into nothingness.

  Tom shouted with excitement, “Score!”

  The sizzling fog quickly began to dissipate around the stratoskimmer, revealing a black, starry sky in front of them instead of the blue, watery grave that once filled the windshield.

  Samantha turned to Tom. “I don’t know what you just did,” she said catching her breath, “but whatever it was, thank you.”

  Marissa coughed up a congratulatory remark also.

  “Let’s hold the praise until we’re the only ship left.” Tom cautioned, pointing to the one vehicle remaining on the windshield.

  He then banked the stratoskimmer hard to the right and angled it downward.

  “That’s an elite striker craft!” Marissa warned, staring at the long cylindrical-shaped ship with four tail fins equidistantly positioned around its rear end and two slender wings running down its entire length. Well-versed in modern and ancient military warfare after dating Alex, she instantly recognized the implications. “That’s the premier assault vehicle of The New World Order’s fleet. You can’t attack that, no matter what modifications you’ve made on this stratoskimmer.”

  Samantha turned back to look at her friend. “A what?”

  “There are only a half dozen of these ships commissioned thus far,” she responded. “It’s a top secret project only recently deployed. Alex showed me the specs just last week.”

  Samantha was about to ask how he acquired this secure information when Tom interjected, “And I showed it to him last month.”

  He smiled with confidence. “Where do you think we acquired the electrostatic smog I deployed?”

  “The what?” Samantha asked

  “That sizzling white stuff that just saved our asses,” he commented. “Alex engineered the smog based on the specs I so happened to acquire.”

  “You mean stole?” Samantha added with a grin.

  “I consider it a present,” Tom said, “that I happened to find and felt compelled to gift to Alex.”

  Samantha laughed. “I hope there are a few more presents on this ship.”

  “Is that what saved us from crashing into the ocean?” Marissa inquired.

  “We were never going to crash,” Tom confidently stated. “That was just a ploy. I let those New World Order bastards think that they had damaged the ship when in fact I easily deflected their energy pulses. Then when it appeared as if we were about to hit the water, I deployed the smog and flew straight up into the stratosphere, creating a massive smoke screen that hid our ship in the process.”

  The striker craft began to make a few evasive turns as its image flipped and rotated before shooting a few flares from its side, blurring their view of the craft.

  “The smog then jammed all the attacking ships’ sensors and obscured their view of us at the same time,” Tom explained. “And because the smog expanded at an exponential fashion, it filled thousands upon thousands of square miles of the atmosphere within seconds.” He smiled. “And unless The New Reality ships knew the exact frequency to which it was deployed, they were all left virtually blind in its wake.”

  The striker craft then appeared to fire a few pulses from its front, obscuring the space in its immediate forward trajectory.

  The stratoskimmer began to shake and lose altitude. Tom did his best to stabilize the ship, but it continued to sway despite his best efforts.

  “Let me guess,” Samantha chimed in, holding on to her seat. “This time you’re not faking.”

  “No ma’am,” Tom remarked, attempting to stabilize the stratoskimmer. He then flicked two switches on the steering wheel causing the ship to level off and fly without further alteration.

  Samantha watched as the image of the striker craft continued to grow in size, indicating that they were moving closer to it. At first she thought it an illusion due to the fact that it was the only ship remaining in view. Now, she could no longer deny its continued growth. “And why does it appear as if we are headed towards the striker craft instead of flying away?” she then asked warily.

  “Because we are,” Tom said.

  “Of course we are,” she responded, nodding her head, sarcastically, as if it all made complete sense.

  �
�The problem is,” Marissa commented, “we can’t run. At this range, it’s locked onto us. If that smog didn’t hide our ship, nothing will.”

  “But you made it seem as if attacking it would be futile,” Samantha responded.

  “With those shields, armor, and speed,” she said, “it is.”

  “Who said anything about attacking?” Tom interjected with a large grin appearing on his face.

  Tom accelerated the stratoskimmer at top speed towards the striker craft. Surprised by the advancement, The New Reality vehicle changed its course and soared directly towards them. It was like a 21st century game of chicken.

  “He’s taking the bait,” Tom said to himself as he opened his eyes as wide as they would go. “A little closer…”

  Still much too far to make visual contact with the striker craft, Tom watched numerical readouts begin to encircle the ship’s holograph on the windshield. His pupils widened while he steadily placed his hand over a red switch on the console. “Just a little more.”

  Seconds seemed like hours as the numbers around the ship changed.

  “Now!” he exclaimed as he flicked the switch.

  From the underbelly of the stratoskimmer, four discs shot out of its magnetic cannon towards the striker craft, each completely missing the target. With The New Reality vehicle’s maneuverability, it quickly dodged the incoming projectiles without any difficulty.

  “You missed,” Samantha said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Consider this a high stake game of horseshoes then,” Tom rebutted as he flicked another switch on the steering wheel.

  Suddenly, the striker craft began to rapidly decelerate and lose altitude. They all watched as the vehicle started to jerk and fly erratically. It was as if the pilot had suddenly lost control of the ship.

  Tom then angled the stratoskimmer towards the upper atmosphere and began to accelerate the ship at its maximum velocity. The striker craft’s size diminished in size by the second until no image of it remained on the windshield.