by Tripp Ellis
My jaw dropped. My stomach twisted. “So, will beating the game beat Krong? Or was that a lie?”
Parker shrugged. “None of us have been able to beat the game. Each time we finish a campaign, we fail the final battle. The system generates a new mission. It’s like an endless loop of levels. Every time we go through a campaign, I loose more of my players. This platoon used to be 24 strong. As you see, now we’re down to six.”
“What about the other 2000 people that were on the Renaissance? Are they still alive?”
“Those who survived are enslaved.” She paused.
“How about you put those weapons down now,” I said. “I’m on your side.”
“The game is constantly evolving, learning, and growing. It has begun generating fully sentient beings. How do I know you are not a spy?”
I looked at her, incredulous. “I told you, I’m not a spy.”
She eyed me cautiously. “There are many beings—human, alien, and robotic—that are every bit as alive as you or me. It matters not that they were generated by a computer. They are essentially no different than we are. And they populate this game universe. Your companion, Titus, is an example.”
“Titan,” the drone corrected.
“Whatever. Krong intends to subjugate them all, if for no other reason than his own amusement.” She continued to eye me suspiciously. “It would not be beyond Krong to send a sentient AI spy to infiltrate my unit.”
“What do I have to do to prove I’m on your side?” I asked.
Parker pondered this. She was asking for proof of the unprovable, and she knew it. “I won’t hesitate to waste you at slightest provocation. If I even get the sense that you are trying to sabotage this unit, you’re toast. Do you understand me?”
“I understand you. If you don’t want my help, I’ll go my own way.”
“You think you can really beat Krong and an entire Skrag army on your own?”
I shrugged. “It’s a game. Games are designed to have winners. I certainly don’t like to lose.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed at me. She stared at me for another long moment then finally lowered her weapon. The rest of the squad followed suit. Except for one big meathead of a guy. He continued to scowl at me, his finger tight around the trigger of his rifle. At this point, one punch would deplete my health completely. I didn’t know what death was going to be like in this world, and I didn’t want to find out.
I looked at the meathead square in the eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little old me?”
He sneered at me and finally lowered his weapon. The name stenciled on his armor read Sergeant Horton.
“We’ve got to rescue Doctor Carver. She’s the only one who knows how to utilize the ancient technology. This game world is our reality now. It has merged with the original virtual world that we created as a safe haven. If we fail to stop Krong and his Skrag army, the crew will eventually be destroyed, as well as countless other sentient beings.”
A new mission objective appeared in my HUD:
Rescue Doctor Carver from Skrag forces.
“By the way, I took a nasty fall and my health is rather low at the moment,” I said. “Usually these types of games have power ups or health boosts. Know where I might find something like that?”
“What’s your current health?” Parker asked.
“It was 9%. It’s recovered to 12% since the fall.”
“Sorry,” Parker said. “I’m fresh out of health packs. You’ll have to keep an eye out for them. How many lives do you have left?”
“Two.”
Parker shook her head. “You’re not off to a good start.”
“Hey, this is my first campaign. I think I’m doing pretty good so far.”
“I say the FNG doesn’t make it past the next mission objective,” Horton said.
“I’ve got 100 experience points that says he does,” a short, thick Marine said.
I smiled at him. “See, this guy knows what he’s talking about.”
“You’re on, Tug.” Horton said.
I reached out my hand and bumped knuckles with Tug. “I got this.”
Horton rolled his eyes.
“Let me introduce you to the squad,” Parker said. “You’ve met Tug.” She then patted Horton’s shoulder. “This is Hazard. That’s Flack, Scar, and Quick Draw. We’ll come up with a name for you before long.”
I wasn’t about to mention my previous nickname. I didn’t care for it, but it was relatively accurate—I was always getting myself in a pickle. “What’s your callsign?”
“Bodybag.”
“That’s cause we’d all like to bag that body,” Tug quipped.
Parker glared at him. “Shut up, Tug, before I go into detail about how you earned your callsign.”
Tug raised his hands in surrender.
“Every enemy I see ends up in a bodybag,” Parker said, trying to save face.
“Keep dreaming,” Tug said, not able to contain himself.
“The Skrag have set up an FOB. That’s where they’re holding Doctor Carver. Let’s get a move on,” Parker commanded. “Newbie, you take point.”
“Like I said, I’m down to 12% health.” Taking point was going to put me up front. I’d be the first to encounter the enemy. Not a great position to be in when I was a mere insult away from death.
“Tough shit,” Parker snapped.
“It’s nice to feel loved,” I said.
The squad followed as I marched into the forest. Hazard was still giving me the evil eye. I heard him mumble to Parker. “I think this is a mistake. We don’t know anything about this guy.”
“I have no doubt you’ll keep an eye on him,” Bodybag said.
Hazard seemed frustrated with her cavalier attitude. But Parker struck me as the type of woman who didn’t take unnecessary chances. She might not have totally trusted me, but I think in her gut she knew I wasn’t a threat to the unit.
We marched through the underbrush for about 20 minutes, then held up when we reached a clearing. A Skrag troop transport had landed, and hundreds of soldiers had setup a forward operating base. They were like ants that had built a hive.
Light Tactical Vehicles rolled across the terrain. They had big knobby tires, and an M82 Plasma Cannon mounted on top. The overgrown truck held four troops and a gunner. The ma-eighty-deuce cannon was a beast. The damn thing could completely vaporize a person without leaving a trace. It didn’t even have to hit you. A projectile blazing past your general vicinity would often be enough to sear flesh and boil organs. I don’t know how I knew this. More intrinsic game knowledge, I figured. I seemed to have knowledge of weapons and their capabilities, but I knew nothing of the specifics of the campaign.
There were rows and rows of pre-fabricated structures that housed troops and the tactical operations command center. The Skrag forces had set up the FOB in no time. Somewhere in that maze of machinery, troops, and structures was Doctor Carver.
“Do you have any idea where they’re holding the doctor?” I asked.
31
Our position was slightly elevated compared to that of the FOB. The enemy camp sat in a basin surrounded on three sides by sheer cliff faces. There was only one way in or out of the camp.
Parker surveyed the FOB through the high-powered scope of her rifle. She spotted a structure with two guards out front. “There. That’s where they’re keeping Carver.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“They’re not guarding nothing. You don’t waste resources on something of no value.”
“Could be a tactical center,” I suggested.
“Not enough traffic.” She swung her scope across the compound. “That’s the TOC over there.”
It was a large structure and had a steady flow of Skrag soldiers coming in and out.
“What are we going to do, waltz right in and take her?”
“You got a better idea?” Parker asked. “Flack, Quick Draw… I need a diversion.” Parker looked through her scope at Skrag s
oldiers loading rockets and bombs aboard gunships. “Detonate those ammo crates. That should keep them occupied long enough to infiltrate the camp.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” Flack and Quick Draw said in unison.
Flack had an RPG launcher that I was more than envious of. He must have acquired it on an earlier campaign. I figured he ought to be able to make a hell of a ruckus with the damn thing if he got within range. They scurried off, disappearing into the woods, heading toward the north side of the FOB.
“Newbie, stay here with Tug and take overwatch,” Parker commanded.
I clenched my jaw in frustration. I didn’t like sitting back and watching the action.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Parker said. “You’re the one with 12% health. You’re not much good to me if you burn through all of your lives on your first mission.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with more than a hint of disappointment in my voice.
We waited patiently for the fireworks to begin. Within a few moments, Flax’s RPG rocketed across the meadow, spitting flames and a trail of propellant from its tail. It smashed into an ammo crate, erupting into a massive ball of fire. It set off a chain reaction, detonating several more explosions.
The FOB lit up with an amber glow. The flames rolled into the sky, mushrooming into black clouds. Bombs detonated, blasting craters in the dirt, sending rocks and mud spidering in all directions. I could feel the ground rumble through the soles of my boots. All attention within the compound was on the ensuing chaos. The enemy soldiers moved toward the explosions, abandoning their posts. Flames rose high into the air.
“Go! Go! Go!” Parker hissed.
Her team crept down slope from the tree line. They moved with stealth and precision. They slipped in between the structures and moved down a path toward Doctor Carver’s presumed location. Through my scope, I scanned the area, keeping an eye out for potential threats. From my elevated position, I was able to see enemy movements and relay them to Parker’s squad via the comm link. But Titan had an even better view as he rose high in the air. His thermal imaging allowed him to see into, and through, structures.
“You’ve got two coming up on your right,” Titan said.
“Copy that,” Parker replied.
Within seconds, I could hear the distant clatter of gunfire. Muzzle flash flickered. The commotion drew the attention of other enemy forces. In a matter of moments, Parker and her squad would be surrounded.
I lined up an enemy goon in my sights and squeezed the trigger. I felt the recoil of the weapon against my shoulder. An instant later, my bullet cracked into the Skrag’s skull. Blood splattered. Bits of bone and brain matter slapped against the side of one of the structures, painting it with crimson sludge. The headshot dropped the thug in his tracks. By the time his body crashed to the dirt, I had another goon lined up in the reticle of my sights.
CRACK!
The shot echoed throughout the valley. My bullet tore through the air, smacking into another Skrag. It splattered the goon.
Chaos ensued within the camp. Plasma bolts and bullets flew in all directions. I watched helplessly as Quick Draw got wasted. A plasma bolt blasted into his chest, sending him to the dirt. The impact was enough to drain his health to zero. It was anyone’s guess where he would re-spawn. If he would re-spawn.
Sniping targets from the tree-line had drawn attention. Plasma bolts soared in my direction. I hunkered down behind a tree trunk and continued to pepper the camp with bullets. I had to be mindful not to hit my compatriots with friendly fire.
A bolt of plasma slammed into the tree, showering bark and fragments of wood. A splinter struck my eye. I could barely see out of it. My eye twitched as the foreign object scraped between the lid and cornea. I rubbed my eye, trying to dig the small piece of wood out. The ground around me erupted with geysers of dirt as plasma bolts impacted inches from my face.
I fired at the source of the incoming projectiles, squinting with one eye—the other eye was red and watering. For a digital simulation, this place was incredibly realistic. The smallest details of life were replicated.
The clatter of Tug’s rifle echoed in my ear. The sound was deafening. What had sounded like a simple snatch and grab turned into a cluster fuck. More enemy troops surrounded Parker’s squad. A growing number were focusing their attention on our overwatch position. To make matters worse, attack fighters and gunships screeched through the air unleashing a torrent of plasma bolts at our current position.
32
The dirt erupted like angry volcanoes spitting fury into the sky as the attack fighter strafed my position. The craft’s plasma cannons cut a path straight toward me. I aimed my weapon at the oncoming angel of death. It was like trying to take down an elephant with a slingshot.
There was a moment of intense pain, and my vision turned red.
Then I was floating through the ether, neither here, nor there—a jumbled mess of code traveling through circuit boards and memory chips. My life flashed before me. Snippets of time. Digital memories.
Then I re-spawned.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” I grumbled as I glanced around at my surroundings.
I was back at the ODV pod. It was the beginning of the mission segment. I hadn’t made it to the next checkpoint—I figured that would be the acquisition of Doctor Carver.
I scanned my HUD. My health bar was at 100%. I restarted this segment with the same weapons and ammo that I had when I first arrived.
My mind filled with dread. I knew there were creatures out there that wanted to have me for dinner, and I had no desire to tangle with another Ryvok. Jumping off the cliff into the stream had almost brought me to the brink of death. I needed to change my strategy. Repeating what I had done previously wasn’t going to get me very far. Certainly not to the next checkpoint.
I could hear the distant clatter of gunfire. I could only assume that my compatriots were still fighting the good fight at the enemy FOB.
From where I was standing, the valley seemed calm and peaceful, but that was all about to change.
Titan whizzed through the forest. The little drone streaked across the sky and met me at my re-spawn point.
“I got here as soon as I could,” Titan said.
“You move pretty quick for a little guy.”
“You’re going to have to improve your playing if you want to defeat Krong.”
I scowled at him, playfully. “Cut me some slack. It wasn’t that bad for a first run, was it?”
Titan said nothing.
“If that’s your idea of encouragement, you’re going to need to work at your motivational skills.”
“Time is of the essence. We need to get moving.”
“Do you know another way to the FOB? I’m not making the same mistakes as last time.”
“Let’s hope not,” Titan said with a derisive tone.
The familiar ripple of engines tearing across the sky drew my attention. An attack fighter was bearing down on me. This life was going to be short-lived if I didn’t do something quick.
A flurry of plasma bolts streaked in my direction. Geysers of dirt vaulted into the sky. I took cover behind the ODV pod and took aim at the incoming attack fighter.
Titan did his usual trick of disappearing. If there was anything he excelled at, it was avoiding a fight. Granted, the little guy didn’t have anything to fight back with.
I lined the fighter up in my sites as it barreled toward me. I heard Titan’s voice crackle in my earbud, “You’re not going to be able to penetrate the armor with that weapon.”
“Again, your motivational skills are lacking.”
“Aim for for the intake vents. You might be able to damage vital internal components.”
“Good thinking.”
I took aim and unleashed a torrent of plasma bolts at the approaching craft, hoping to get lucky. The projectiles sparked against the hard armor plating, charring it black. They didn’t seem to have much effect.
The ground exploded in front of me as pla
sma bolts impacted the ground. Dirt and smoke wafted from the craters. I thought I was going to lose another life in the blink of an eye. I crouched behind the ODV pod as the attack fighter roared overhead.
Somehow, miraculously, I survived. I watched the craft bank around, preparing to make another run. I hopped over the ODV, taking cover on the other side. Several holes from the first run dotted the drop-pod. Smoke still wafted from the charred blast sites. The burning smell of electronics, plastic, and seared metal filled my nostrils.
Again, the ground sprouted plumes of dirt as the attack fighter unleashed a flurry of plasma bolts. The craft raced straight toward me.
I took aim and squeezed the trigger, rattling off rounds at the incoming vulture. The ammo counter in my HUD steadily depleted until it reached zero.
Still, the attack fighter rocketed toward me.
I pressed the mag release button, and the magazine dropped to the ground. I slapped in another, pressed the bolt catch, and resumed hammering the fighter with plasma projectiles. Fire erupted and black smoke billowed from one of the thrusters. The craft pitched and rolled. It plummeted toward the ground on a collision course straight for me.
33
The attack fighter plowed into the ground, carving a groove in the dirt as it careened toward my position. I sprang to my feet and ran as fast as I could. My legs drove me forward, escaping the deadly path just as the attack fighter collided with the ODV pod. It splintered the drop-pod in a million pieces, sending blistering shrapnel in all directions. The screeching sound of metal twisting and scraping filled my ears as the two objects impacted.
The attack fighter finally ground to a halt. The right engine was engulfed in flames. The pilot emerged from the craft and opened fire at me. Searing bolts of plasma rifled through the air, whizzing past my ears. I could hear them sizzle as they went by, radiating heat.
I snapped my rifle to the firing position and squeezed off a burst of rounds. The projectiles pierced the visor of the pilot’s helmet and turned his brain into sludge. He fell to the dirt. His body twitched involuntarily for a moment.
