Reggie thought for a moment. Chase hopped up onto the wall.
“I didn’t bring you here just to be a downer,” Chase said. “We’ve opened a new area. We should level you up a little and check out Ghost Forest. A real weapon and some gear that isn’t made of black gauze and you might see what’s cool about this game.”
Chase wove his hands through a series of martial arts poses and shadow formed around his fists. As Reggie stood watching, the higher-level ninja vanished from sight.
The air beside Reggie said, “Come on. Let’s have a little fun. Then, tomorrow, we can try to figure out if my mole is real.”
[Group Invite: Chase]
[Accept: Y/N?]
Reggie gave a curt nod, trying to keep within the game’s aesthetic.
Trailing wisps of shadow dotted the way as a translucent Chase, visible now to his group mate, sped off to the east.
Reggie followed, hoping that maybe the land of shadow and ninjas would provide insight into the shadowy side of Armored Souls as well.
Chapter Seventeen
Reggie had earned a Red Sash [+2 Intimidate] and a Talon Blade [+10% Assassinate Damage] before Chase finally gave up on showing him around the Ghost Forest zone. It was all too high level for Reggie, and he died three times, but death was cheap in Silent Shuriken. He got to be a ghost for a while until his body regenerated and was fit for inhabiting again. The process only took about thirty seconds, and the body formed at a spot just outside the forest.
Being back in Armored Souls, Reggie felt heavy, slow, and somehow more solid. The light-footed action of Silent Shuriken was all about the power of a single man on foot. It was a glorious and inaccurate portrayal of warfare better suited to the farcical and the satiric. He wondered how many in Silent Shuriken’s audience cared that they were caricaturing a culture they claimed to love.
When he entered the rec room, it was quiet. The lights blinked on automatically, sensing his presence. He was the only one.
“Maybe it’s time to recruit some new time zones,” he muttered. House Virgo had been operational around the clock, collecting players from all parts of Earth and jumbling them together in one faction. While he didn’t have demographics on his newer members, they all spoke with American accents.
Reggie found Frank in the machine shop, audible from two halls away thanks to the racket the machinery made. He thought better of disturbing Frank at his in-game hobby, especially as there were rumblings that he might level up his machining skill to the point where he could make ranged weapons.
Meandering into the War Room, Reggie brought up the galactic map and zoomed in on Wounded Legion territory. Their holdings were labeled in soft blue lettering that glowed, and the three-dimensional space that was deemed within their control shaded a little blob around those holdings.
[Base]
[Schet IX]
[Alcon Prime]
[Turrim Auream Starport]
Reggie scowled at the unadorned label for the Wounded Legion headquarters. He needed to call it something. Per game rules, faction homes were off-limits to player raids. This was their sanctuary, the one place in the galaxy where no one could touch them.
Then it hit him.
Reggie reached into the hologram, hoping the game worked consistently on stuff like this. He tapped the word “Base,” and a keypad appeared.
G-R-E-E-N Z-O-N-E, he tapped in carefully.
[Base Updated]
Reggie smiled at the revised list:
[Schet IX]
[Alcon Prime]
[Turrim Auream Starport]
[Green Zone]
The Green Zone had always represented safety to Reggie in a world where enemies and potential enemies could be anywhere. Anywhere else, that is. This was where he was allowed to feel safe, to let his guard down between missions, to perform the tasks of living as a human, not just a soldier.
And if anyone else didn’t like it, that was their business.
Reggie’s business was adding another planet or space station to Wounded Legion’s repertoire. Turrim Auream was a nice earner, better than either of their prior two conquests—though not by a lot over Schet IX. However, it came with a downside as well. Existing on a major interstellar shipping lane, it was easily accessible and out in the public eye, hanging a target on it for anyone with ambition.
Reggie studied the star chart and looked for likely approach vectors. There wasn’t terrain in space, but nebulae and spatial anomalies abounded to make up for the lack of mountains and bodies of water.
Finding that there was a star on the far side of Turrim Auream along that same shipping lane, Reggie tapped on the Cagamere system for more details.
[Cagamere I - Chthonian Planet - Population 0]
[Cagamere II - Protoplanet - Population 0]
[Cagamere III - Lava Planet - Population 0]
[Cagamere IV - Carbon Planet - Population 0]
[Cagamere V - Terrestrial Planet - Population 0]
[Cagamere VI - Gas Giant - Population 0]
[Cagamere VII - Ice Giant - Population 0]
“Well, that’s not friendly,” Reggie muttered. He tapped into each for details and discovered that the population number wasn’t merely an indication of intelligent, advanced life. As best he could tell, there wasn’t a single living thing in the star system.
There was only one candidate that might turn into a valuable asset.
“Congratulations, Cagamere V,” Reggie said to the blip of suspended photons representing a fictional planet in a digital universe. “At 50°C and with no breathable atmosphere, you’re still the most hospitable planet in your sorry-ass system.”
A plan came together. That fifty-degree figure only applied in the polar regions, but a pair of forward bases with listening posts—one at either pole—would give Cagamere V a good view of the surrounding cosmos. Build it up over time, and it would serve as an early warning system for Wounded Legion space, allowing the faction to backfill behind it without worrying about sneak attacks.
By the time the first members of the rest of the faction started logging in for the night, Reggie had come up with a series of player-generated missions to assign.
“Listen up,” Reggie called out, gathering everyone in the War Room. “We’re pitching underhand tonight. But that means you’re getting off the leash a little. I’ve purchased a second drop ship. You’re going to be splitting up by platoon and marking out sites for a pair of polar bases on Cagamere V.”
Reggie paused to bring up the tactical view of the planet, pre-marked with zones he wanted investigated.
Chase whistled. “You stayed up all day picking that garbage fire?”
Reggie zoomed the view out and took a few minutes to explain the tactical position that the Cagamere system provided, then went into detail on how awful the other planets in the system were.
“It doesn’t matter how bad the planet is,” Reggie said in conclusion. “What it comes down to is that we need a forward observation post if we want to keep what we’ve accumulated so far. I don’t want our first warning of an attack being someone on board Turrim Auream Starport. We already proved how easy it is to slip past the perimeter there. Tightening security without choking off commerce would cost a fortune and still wouldn’t be as effective as a listening post.”
Ellie looked at the planet appraisingly. “Could be worse. When do we head out?”
Reggie smiled. “You head out as soon as you’re ready. You’re taking command of Bravo Platoon and overall mission. ZRod, take Charlie Platoon. Ellie, you make the call on who surveys the northern versus southern polar regions. Got that?”
Ellie saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Reggie returned the salute. Being an officer—or general, or whatever he styled himself in Armored Souls—was going to take getting used to. “When you pick out a location, mark it, and I’ll direct construction from here. We’ll put up deep space radar posts, broadcast relays, landing pads, and a 2-jug hangar and barracks combo.”
“Not it,” Chase said, putting a finger to his nose.
Reggie looked at him cockeyed.
“What?” Chase said. “I don’t want to pull rotation manning some nowhere bunker.”
Reggie chuckled. “You won’t have to. I’m planning on rehiring some old NPCs I used to run with. This is the work they were cut out for.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mornings in Seattle Lite were a calm, contemplative quiet. How many people could boast of being able to log out of life? Valhalla West didn’t make him pay rent on his little apartment. IRS agents didn’t know he existed. There were no texts from ex-wives haggling over dredged up flotsam still unresolved years after the divorce or teenagers driving by at all hours of the night raising hell and keeping him awake.
There were perks to being a vegetative guinea pig in a military hospital subsidized by a major game company.
Reggie needed coffee the second he thought that.
Easing onto the couch with a cup of java that claimed to replicate authentic Seattle grinders, Reggie flipped on the television and found his new favorite channel: Wounded Legion.
The TV was interactive, programmed with a ton of features his little flatscreen back home had lacked. He was able to browse personal and faction info, albeit without all the options he could access from in game. He’d gone to bed after setting up the new construction orders on Cagamere V. By now, the construction bots ought to have finished making the upgrades.
He browsed the listing of Wounded Legion planets:
[Green Zone]
[Schet IX]
[Alcon Prime]
[Turrim Auream Starport]
Reggie frowned. The listing hadn’t updated.
Shaking his head that a game could interface with the human brain but not keep a simple database current, Reggie searched for an option to refresh.
[Faction > Roster > News (18) > Rewards > Info]
Eighteen news items? Reggie tapped “News” to see what the hell he’d missed.
He spat his coffee all over the couch when he saw an entry in bright red.
[Cagamere V Captured by Liberty Clan]
This wasn’t time to go looking for answers. Reggie needed to log in.
Immediately.
[Apartment > Logout]
Reggie tapped the word.
[Really Logout? Y/N]
UNABLE TO LOG OUT; USER BODY NOT AVAILABLE
“Do we have to go through this song and dance every time?” he demanded.
The button remained silent.
[Relog options: Apartment - Armored Souls - Silent Shuriken - More Options]
Reggie mashed his finger against the button for Armored Souls and watched the vertigo-inducing swirl of colors whisk him away.
Chapter Nineteen
Within minutes, Reggie had assembled Alpha Platoon and the leaders of Bravo and Charlie Platoons in the War Room. He’d slept in after a long night preparing Cagamere V for becoming a listening post, and most of Wounded Legion was already asleep and logged in.
“So,” Chase said matter-of-factly. “You saw.”
Reggie heard the implications there. Wounded Legion territory had shrunk back to pre-Cagamere levels, and Chase had warned him that someone might be working against them.
“I want to see the combat logs,” Reggie said.
June sighed and took control of the holographic display and began the playback. “It’s not much to look at. Charlie Platoon finished their survey of the northern polar region at 0322 hours server time. Bravo platoon finished theirs six minutes later. Both teams were to their drop ships and off Cagamere V by 0340.” June fast-forwarded the action. “At 0402 server time, Reggie gives the orders for construction of new outposts at the surveyed locations.”
In rapid motion, the zoomed-in view of the northern polar region of Cagamere V grew a landing pad, multiple antenna towers, and outbuildings. It reminded Reggie of the wonders in the old Civilization games, watching the cut-away videos of the old monuments being erected in seconds instead of decades.
June froze the image. “Construction was complete at 0602, precisely two hours after the order was given. That’s standard for construction bots working on a job this size.” She hit the unpause button, and a drop ship appeared just outside the perimeter, landed, and disgorged juggernauts. “We see here that at 0605—just three minutes after the construction bots finish—we’ve already been invaded.”
“How the bloody hell they pull that off?” Frank demanded, scratching his chin in consternation.
“Galactic map updates,” Chase suggested with a shrug. “They saw an uninhabited planet get lassoed by a noob faction and decided to play bully. I know we dropped a good chunk of credits on the Cagamere V project, but it’s a minor setback. I mean, in essence, it just did its job, right?”
Reggie kept his eyes off Chase. Every word of what he was saying was designed to sound reasonable, but Reggie already had the kid’s opinion on the matter. He’d seen something like this coming. Nobody was going to time an assault that precisely without intel, and no one was going to convince Reggie that a mid-tier faction was keeping an eye on a worthless hunk of rock whose only claim to purpose was to defend the quickest approach to a four-planet faction like Wounded Legion.
Someone had to have tipped Liberty Clan off that there was an undefended planet with brand new infrastructure about to complete.
If only the Command skill came with the ability to see loyalty. Bonuses to Piloting and Gunnery, shared tactical data, and being able to access his pilots’ stats during combat paled in comparison to the seemingly minor trick of telling when someone was actively stabbing his whole faction in the back.
Without letting on that he suspected them, Reggie eyed Ellie and ZRod through the holographic field.
What if Ellie’s Commando skills were more than a reflection of her love of first-person shooters? Maybe she fancied herself a female James Bond or a Black Widow.
And ZRod. What kind of name was that? Who didn’t know how to use capital letters? Reggie had shit-canned plenty of applicants who insisted on spelling numbers into their names or using vulgar euphemisms to slip past automated censoring programs on the character creation screen. Why had he opted to let in a guy who spelled his own name wrong?
There were eight other new recruits who weren’t even in the room with them. It could have been any of them—though if Mapple was a double-agent, he was brilliant. The guy drank yogurt from a pint glass and sang kiddie songs to himself when the conversation drifted away from him. Mapple probably needed Dr. Zimmerman more than he needed a spot in Wounded Legion, but he kept his mouth shut on missions and piloted a juggernaut like a pro.
“Reg?” June asked, leaning into Reggie’s field of view. “We losing you here? It’s going to be OK.”
Reggie blinked and shook himself out of his musings. “Yeah. I know. But fuck those Liberty Clan bastards for poaching a cheap planet off us. I was going to hire our NPC guard dogs first thing after login this evening. The planet should have been fine until then. But we lost it, and we need options of what to do about that.”
“We can’t fight ‘em,” Ellie said, shaking her head for emphasis. “Those Liberty guys are twenty times our size and control fifty planets.”
“Hunker down,” Frank suggested with a single, decisive nod. “Beef up the front lines, make ‘em pay if they want to come knocking on our door again.”
Costly, but it was worth considering.
“If they come after us, we can just stay nimble,” Chase said. “There are a ton of minor, independent planets out there. We could even relocate to a sub-base in another sector, keep this place as an emergency fallback. We’d have some long missions for a while, but we could move out of the way and just let these dickwads take our old planets.”
“Noob-bashing is great click-bait fodder,” Lin said. “I could play some of the footage on my stream, start a little brigading action, maybe drop some hints about doxing these fools if they don’t back off. M
ight even get us Cagamere back.”
ZRod raised a tentative finger, elbows tucked at his sides. “I, uh, think that might be illegal.”
Lin blew a disgusted sigh that sent a lock of loose hair fluttering. “So many dickless lawyers in this world.”
“I have a legal idea,” June said.
Everyone turned and waited to hear it, including Reggie.
“We put our heads down, keep recruiting, and bulldog our way through this,” June said with iron in her voice. “I made it through boot camp and Jump School, and nothing I’ve seen here looks half as tough as those.”
ZRod snickered. “You went to a school for jumping?”
“Out of airplanes,” June said in a growl. “Into enemy territory.”
Eyes wide, ZRod backed a step away from her. “Jesus. You people are hardcore.”
Chase clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. My feet don’t leave the ground to shoot a basketball. It’s Frank, Reggie, and June with the combat experience.”
Ellie shrank a little. “Hope I didn’t step out of line with any of my commando role play.”
Frank grunted. “Did better than some of the boys I knew in Korea.”
ZRod titled his head over in bewilderment. “That was like a century ago.”
“Don’t keep track exactly,” Frank said. “But I think it’s more like eighty or something.”
“How are we getting our asses kicked at a military game when we have real soldiers running the show?” Ellie asked. She quickly added, “No offense.”
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