Wounded Legion_a mech LitRPG novel

by Xavier P. Hunter

  Diablo followed Vortex out of the drop ship. “Not such a bad place,” Chase remarked. “I could see someone dumping a couple million credits into it to make a real mining colony.”

  [Mission > Claim > XXXX]

  The Plant Flag option was missing. “Huh?” Reggie said aloud.

  “What?” Chase asked.

  “I’m not getting the option to claim this place. Weird.”

  Reggie tried another location. He drove Vortex across the craggy, broken terrain, keeping the menu open. If the option appeared, he’d see it light up.

  TARGET DATA ACQUIRED

  “Shit!” Chase shouted. “Back to the drop ship!”

  That was why the option to claim Gorthax XII wasn’t showing up. The mini-map showed a hostile force on the ridge to the east at G-101.

  “Those bastards! How did they know?” Reggie demanded. For a fraction of a second, he wondered if Chase had been the mole all along.

  But no. Chase had been too loyal for too long. Reggie couldn’t doubt him. And besides, Chase had the obvious answer anyway.

  “They have the manpower. They must be staking out potential targets.”

  The Liberty Clan platoon that showed up on the tactical view consisted of two Tigers, two Demons, and a Jackal. They were all closing in and firing.

  Vortex shook with repeated impacts. His attempts to shoot down the incoming LRMs were haphazard as the motion of a full-speed run for the drop ships jostled his aim.

  Diablo was doing better against the missiles but still taking damage. Reggie tried to watch the wire frames of both juggernauts as he estimated whether he’d get there before the damage added up to destruction for one or both of them.

  200m to the drop ship.

  Vortex stumbled as a missile impacted mid-step. Hardened Systems flared as the skill spared its left knee joint from a debilitating malfunction.

  Chase wasn’t so lucky.

  150m to the drop ship, and Diablo toppled. An LRM had caught a hip flexor, and that was all the running Diablo would be doing this fight.

  Reggie slowed up and maneuvered Vortex into position to shield Diablo from further fire. “Crawl!” he ordered, backing up in a slow retreat that threatened to trip over the downed Jackal if Chase didn’t start moving.

  “Leave me,” Chase argued. “You can still make it. We won’t both get out of—”

  But that was the last Reggie heard. Multiple impacts to the cockpit of Vortex had done him in.

  Reggie awoke to the stinging odor of rubbing alcohol and a view of a digital clock mounted into the ceiling.

  2:59:55

  It counted down steadily as he watched.

  “Warrior King,” a perky female voice cooed. “You’re awake. Don’t worry. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  That voice always grated on him. The curvaceous nurse in the pristine white Star League Medical uniform leaned over to give Reggie a smile and a look down the front of her blouse. He wondered if players who weren’t signed up for “extra services” got the same suggestive greeting upon arrival.

  Glancing down, Reggie noted the shimmering blue force field that paralyzed him from the shoulders down. Those familiar, gruesome armatures equipped with needles, scalpels, and other medical miscellany better suited to horror movies than a real hospital dug at his guts in an effort to scare him into logging out for some fresh air.

  2:59:35

  This could be a long wait. For the first time, he found himself wondering how good that plastic, digital rendition of a nurse might be at making him feel better during his time out. No one would know. And Reggie sure as hell could use some cheering up.

  Chase must have died too. He never talked about how he spent his enforced time out of Armored Souls after a death. He was probably having a right old party with his version of this same nurse.

  Or was he?

  Reggie shut his eyes. “Relog to Silent Shuriken,” he said, and the game obeyed.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Reggie reappeared, dressed in his ninja garb, at the fountain in Village of Cherry Blossoms. After the desolate, ferrous battlefield of Gorthax XII and the antiseptic sting of the Star League hospital, Reggie’s first act was to take a long, slow breath of the sweet air. His second was to sit on the fountain’s edge and just appreciate the pleasant trickle’s melody.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Chase said, stepping out of the noontime shadow of a nearby tree. “Figured you’d be getting your troubles sucked away. Thanks for the attempted save, by the way. I lasted a good ten seconds longer than you. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

  “If thoughts counted, we’d have murdered those guys,” Reggie pointed out.

  Chase strolled off down the dirt of the village’s only real street. “It was five on two, and they were camped out waiting for us. Solid ambush. Tip cap. Learn from mistake. It’s not like that’s the worst video game mistake I ever made.”

  “Just feels like I should have anticipated it,” Reggie said. “Never assume your enemy is an idiot. We’d shown them a trick and weren’t ready to counter their adaptation.”

  Chase giggled. “Oh, this one time in Caverns of Karkoong, I was leading a raid, and this little alert kept popping up while I was laying out the strat for the boss battle. That rock dragon was the size of a heavy juggernaut. Anyway, I give the go, and our hit points start dropping off a cliff. Turns out that notification I was too busy to check was our party healer getting left behind. He’d gone AFK, and I’d missed it in chat. Total wipe—well, except for the healer, who came back just in time to run his ass off.”

  “This supposed to be making me feel better?” Reggie asked. Because it wasn’t. Chase being a screw-up was, in fact, demotivating. Here Reggie was, thinking his right-hand man had his act together, and now both of them had missed an obvious change in enemy tactics.

  “How about this one?” Reggie asked, idly tossing and catching one of his daggers as he walked. “I played Ships of the Line for a while, and I’d just upgraded to a new fifth-rate frigate and was chomping at the bit to try it out. Got into my battle with a brand new crew and the first officer from my last vessel who I’d brought along. Run out the guns! Oops. No cannonballs. Hadn’t bought ‘em. Sailed around watching my mates get sunk for a while, then ended up ramming some Spanish galleon and logging out in shame.”

  “How about we just hang out here in Silent Shuriken and forget other games for a while?” Reggie suggested.

  Chase stopped and turned to fix Reggie with a suspicious glare. “How long a while?”

  Reggie sighed, taking in the sweet scent of blooming flowers and a whiff of someone brewing tea. It was nice here, even without skulking around murdering people. “Just a mini-vacation. Couple days? My gas tank’s running on empty.”

  “What about everyone back at the Green Zone?”

  Reggie called up a menu. It defaulted to Silent Shuriken, but he navigated over to an Armored Souls interface.

  [Faction > Roster > News (2) > Rewards > Info]

  He ignored the taunts from Freedom Coach Napoleon and the report of his battle defeat.

  Faction.

  Commander.

  [Wounded Legion - Commander (T) - June]

  “There,” Reggie said. “June’s got full control of Wounded Legion until I get back. Now, how about you and me find some dastardly merchants to murder for money?”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  It had been days. Reggie had grown accustomed to sleeping on a floor mat, drinking tea and rice wine instead of beer, and doing his murdering for profit from a sword’s blade away instead of from the seat of a giant robot.

  The similarities otherwise had been allowing him to settle into a routine of mission, mission, sleep, mission, mission.

  “Rise and shine, tank-boy,” Chase said one morning, kicking Reggie awake. It was the sort of stunt he could get away with in Silent Shuriken, where he was triple Reggie’s level with all the best gear developers could hide inside it.

 
; Reggie snapped awake. The [Rooster’s Crow] ability wasn’t prized by most players, but to Reggie, it was better than coffee, an alarm clock, and a full bladder combined for getting him out of bed in the morning—plus it gave some bonus to fighting with the dawn sun at your back, but Reggie didn’t give a rat’s ass about that.

  “What’s on the menu today?” he asked eagerly. “Political coup? Blood feud? Marital revenge?” The latter had always proven cathartic for him, taking out some poor slighted bastard’s frustrations on the object of his wife’s infidelity.

  Chase’s eyes lit with eldritch fire. “We’re going to turn the tide in a war.”

  Nice! Something meaty to sink his blades into. Reggie pumped a fist. “Hell yeah! Where to?”

  “Armored Souls,” Chase replied, letting the fiery effect pass.

  Reggie slumped his shoulders. “Oh. I was just starting to put that whole business behind me.”

  “Really? I’ve caught you checking every day to make sure the roster hasn’t shrunk or June hadn’t disbanded us.”

  “Couldn’t we hang out here a few more days?” Reggie asked. He didn’t need Chase’s permission, but the game was more enjoyable playing with someone he knew.

  “June’s got a plan,” Chase said. “I think she should be the one to explain it. In person. You coming or not?”

  Reggie wiped a hand over his face. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

  With a sigh, Reggie called up a game menu.

  [Silent Shuriken > Logout]

  Reggie tapped the word.

  [Really Logout? Y/N]

  UNABLE TO LOG OUT; USER BODY NOT AVAILABLE

  Sometime he was going to have to talk to Ken Bradley about the bedside manner of the whole Valhalla West game universe.

  [Relog options: Apartment - Armored Souls - Silent Shuriken - More Options]

  Reggie tapped Armored Souls and closed his eyes for the trip. When he opened them, he was standing in his quarters. The lightweight, comfortable ninja gear had been replaced by the rough, sturdy combat uniform of a juggernaut pilot.

  On the bright side, at least there was beer here, and he wouldn’t have to pull down a mask to drink it.

  Steeling himself, Reggie headed for the War Room. But on the way there, Lin intercepted him.

  “Come on, Commander,” Lin said, threading her arm through Reggie’s. “This way.”

  Lin led him to the hangar, where Reggie stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of Wounded Legion was standing at attention, and there were more of them than Reggie remembered.

  “Welcome back, sir,” June said with a salute. “I hope you enjoyed your R & R. We’ve had a bit of a swell in the ranks since you were last with us.”

  Reggie did some quick math. He leaned in to speak privately with June. “You brought in ten new guys?”

  June whispered in Reggie’s ear. “All active duty, stationed stateside. A couple navy guys, but the rest are US Army. No traitors in this bunch.”

  “But… how?” Reggie asked breathlessly. Their last recruitment efforts had netted mostly flotsam, and of the few who weren’t, most of those had bailed when times got tough.

  “Thank Lin,” June said. “It was her idea. She promoted a veterans event on her live stream and advertised for recruits.”

  Reggie studied the formation, noting that even Chase had managed to sneak in and impersonate a soldier. “Where’s Frank?”

  June’s conspiratorial smile fell. “Long story, but there’s a custody battle with his family. He can’t log back in until it’s resolved.”

  Reggie breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Legal problems sucked, but when a guy Frank’s age goes missing—or hell, even goes to sleep at night—there’s always the worry that he’s off on his final mission.

  “This is great and all,” Reggie said. “But we’re still outgunned.” He opened a faction menu and browsed the new guys. None were as high as Level 7. Training them up under siege by the Liberty Coalition would be hell.

  “As my final act as acting commander, I’ve arranged a mission for us,” June said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to order my troops to—how do you say it?—saddle up and get ready to ride. You in?”

  Right that minute, Reggie didn’t care if June had come up with the next Trojan Horse gambit to turn a war or its head or was marching them all into a black hole. She’d earned the leeway to carry it out as she saw fit.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Reggie promised.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Reggie learned in transit that Wounded Legion’s target was a Liberty Clan supply yard on a heavily fortified moon known as Tirith. It wasn’t on the border between what was once Wounded Legion space and Liberty Clan’s holdings, but neither was it far into their territory. Despite the boldness of taking 19 juggernauts to fight a place that showed defenses fit to hold off three times that number, Reggie wasn’t going to say anything.

  Win or lose, he put his trust in June for days without checking in on her. It was his duty to let her play out the fruits of that command.

  “All right, people,” June said. “No atmosphere, so nothing to speed up the cooling on those heat sinks. Watch your energy use. Don’t hold back on missiles. Keep to cover. This could be a long slog.”

  A long slog? How could they hold out for anything but a quick strike mission? Reggie’s studies had confirmed that Liberty Clan had an efficient response squad, and this was Freedom Coach Napoleon’s prime playing time.

  No.

  Reggie bit his tongue to keep from undercutting June’s authority. This was the reward she got for her tenure as acting commander.

  Still, Reggie couldn’t just let her walk into an unwinnable battle. Taking care to ensure he was on a private frequency with her, Reggie radioed across the drop ship’s cargo bay to June personally. “Hey, you sure about this game plan?”

  “I know,” June said in a conciliatory huff. “This isn’t how we fight asymmetric wars. But tonight, please trust me. I’ve got a little surprise cooked up for these bastards.”

  “Wasn’t going to say anything in front of the troops,” Reggie promised. “Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page that this is a suicide mission.”

  “Bushido is realized in the presence of death,” June said solemnly. “This means choosing death whenever there is a choice between life and death. There is no other reasoning. That’s from The Book of Samurai.”

  “I thought you hated Silent Shuriken,” Reggie said.

  June snorted. “Samurai are the opposite of that sneaking, backstabbing business. And it was the see-through uniforms I hated, not the game play. But this fight is to prove something to Napoleon about honor.”

  Reggie’s shoulders shook in a silent chuckle. Fine. If June wanted to send a message that Wounded Legion wasn’t afraid to die—over and over, possibly beyond the point of comedy—so be it.

  They were back to using two drop ships now. When they thudded down onto the moon’s surface, the whole legion poured out.

  [Primary Objective: Force the Surrender of Tirith to Wounded Legion]

  [Secondary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 0/119]

  [Secondary Objective: Disable Planetary Communications Relay]

  Reggie’s finger hovered above the button to open his mic and address the detachment, but he caught himself just in time.

  ASHARI popped up from the console. “Difficulty in relinquishing command?”

  “I’m fine,” Reggie said. “Just curious about something. What are the odds of this plan working?”

  “I’m sorry,” ASHARI said. “You’ll have to be more specific. There are multiple levels of planning at work here. The odds of your plan to allow June control of the operational aspects of this mission stand at 60.5%.”

  “That much confidence in me?” Reggie asked dryly. “No. I mean what are the odds that 19 of us complete all those objectives June set for this mission?”

  “Zero,” ASHARI replied. “I don’t believe that this violates your prior inst
ructions to me about not spoiling the tactical aspects of Armored Souls for you since I surmise that this was your own assumption as well.”

  “Yeah,” Reggie muttered. He switched off ASHARI, and the holograph winked out of existence. “Time to go die all nobly to teach some punk who can’t grasp the concept of honor a lesson.”

  Reggie was back to being part of Alpha Platoon. They were the shorthanded bunch, choosing to leave Frank’s spot unfilled for the mission. Reggie followed Diablo on a beeline for a ridge with a long-range view of the communications relay.

  TARGET DATA RECEIVED

  Reggie wasn’t sure how things would work with his Command skills now that he wasn’t platoon leader at least. It seemed that he was still patched into the unit’s tactical data. He almost wished he wasn’t. The mini-map buzzed with enemy units like a hornets’ nest after someone kicked it.

  “Hold position at Alpha-Foxtrot-one-five-one,” June ordered. Reggie smiled that in a game where few players bothered with clarity in radio communication, Wounded Legion at least used the NATO alphabet to keep things clear. All the new guys would have known exactly what she meant.

  One of the recruits was piloting a Gargoyle outfitted with Indirect Fire Artillery. Reggie hadn’t run the guy’s build, but it looked like a 150mm or 155mm cannon aimed skyward as he began a barrage aimed at the relay station.

  Yulong knelt at the edge of the ridge and took aim, picking off surveillance drones that were attempting to get a fix on the legion’s position.

  “Dig in,” June ordered. “Keep up that shelling, Benzo. The rest of you, prepare for the incoming shitstorm and keep control of this ridge.”

  Reggie did as ordered. He found himself wishing that he’d swapped out equipment on Vortex for a longer range engagement. More than that, he wondered how many of the enemy juggernauts they could take out before sheer numbers and the inevitable reinforcements overwhelmed them.