Spawn Point Zero

by Nancy Osa

  She read the heading on the top sheet: “‘Residency Application.’ These are from people who answered the ad?”

  There were dozens of them. Rob always tried to put his troopers’ strengths to good use, and he knew the survivalist could read players like a book. Frida had been tagged to sort through the applications and reject any unsavory prospects.

  “You’ll work on those while our squadron is off on its mission, Corporal.” Rob turned to the colonel and judge. “Do you have anything for me to deliver to our delegates?”

  The judge produced a copy of the charter they’d drafted and some paperwork for the new liaisons to fill out.

  “De Vries,” Rob said, “lock down those blueprints. We can’t have any more leaks.”

  “You might want to change the access codes,” Jools suggested.

  Rob hated to leave town now that the project—and his friends—seemed to be at risk. “I’ll be back in a few days. Call Turner if you need help.”

  As the meeting broke up, Rob asked Colonel M for a private word. Impressed by Rob’s pluck when he had first formed the cavalry unit, the old ghost had taken him under his wing. The senior officer had a great deal of wisdom to impart, having seen so much action in the years leading up to the First War.

  “What can I do for you, Captain?”

  “It has to do with my command, sir.”

  Colonel M gave a low chuckle. “I don’t envy you. Your troopers are strong-willed enough to triumph, yet stubborn enough to drive you mad.”

  Rob stared at the floor. “It’s me that’s the trouble this time.” He would rather not broach the subject, but managed to share his moral dilemma with his mentor.

  “I see,” Colonel M said when Rob had finished.

  “I know enough not to ask more of my troops than I’m prepared to give myself. I’m just . . . not ready to give it.” He started pacing. “I know how important it is for the battalion to stick together. But if I change my spawn point, I might never find my way home.” Rob cast inquiring eyes on the colonel. “What should I do?”

  The colonel knit his enormous brow and thought a moment. Personal matters fell into a gray area where he rarely meddled. Finally, he said, “I cannot tell a man how to act. I can, however, tell you what to consider. First, I will need to know more about how the enlistees have received your . . . mandatory request.”

  They discussed each trooper’s background and response to the order to change spawn points. Then they talked a bit about Rob’s old life and the commitments he’d made in the course of his work there. The colonel wanted to know if some prior experience might guide the cowboy-turned-cavalry-commander. Had he put himself on the line for the good of others in the past?

  Rob had, during his range duties, faced all kinds of dangers. He told the colonel he’d suffered rattlesnake bites and barbed-wire cuts, wolf attacks and cattle stampedes. But he’d never quit—never refused to ford a stream to save a calf, never hesitated to brave quicksand to save a cow.

  “Why?” Colonel M asked. “Why did you persist?”

  Rob searched his soul. “I . . . don’t know why.”

  The colonel gave him a long look. “Come back and talk to me again when you do.”

  Rob excused himself, no closer to finding the grit necessary to change his spawn point. Still, he felt buoyed by the idea that his old life held the key to resolving his present worries. And, even though he’d admitted his shameful failure, the colonel had treated him as though trying and failing were part of honorably fulfilling his duty.

  Maybe it’s a process, and not a permanent flaw, he thought. In any case, he had certainly improved from his early days as a commander. Rob felt that he might, one day, have the strength do his captain’s bars justice.

  *

  A short while later, Rob, Jools, and Kim mounted up and guided their horses down through the foothills, following the abandoned minecart tracks to the northwest. They soon crossed the biome border into Bryce Mesa, where the cavalry had once encamped to prepare for battle with the griefers’ mob army. The successful strategy had produced one of the battalion’s most rousing victories.

  The horses’ shod feet clapped loudly against the hardened clay and the sun beat down on the travelers’ backs. “There’s our old camp!” Kim cried happily as the three troopers rode past a red-orange cliff lined with striped hoodoo spires and bright-green cacti.

  Rob recalled seeing this country for the first time. The high desert terrain, with its imposing sandstone towers and long, dry stretches broken by bubbling streams was not so different from his home rangeland. His conversation with Colonel M drifted back, driving Rob so deeply into thought that, to get his attention, Jools had to poke him with the stick he carried to rouse Beckett.

  The captain about jumped out of his skin. “What? What?”

  “Just wondering if you know of a village in these parts. It would be capital if this biome joined the UBO, don’t you think? Fond memories here.”

  Rob grinned. “Likewise. I’ll have to check with Frida and Stormie. They’re on outreach detail. Tell you what, though: if there aren’t any sizeable settlements, we’ll seed one and you can move in—once the Overworld’s secure, that is.”

  “Smashing, sir.”

  The sun crossed its high point in the cloudless sky, and the party left mesa clay behind. The horses dove eagerly into the sea of grass and cheerful flowers common to the plains variant. Friendly cows and pigs trundled alongside them safely, as the troopers carried plenty to eat. When a string of wild mustangs ran by in the distance, Rob felt his blood pump a bit harder.

  Before too long the riders approached Sunflower, the village that lay not far from Kim’s horse farm. While still fifty blocks off, they could see a white-clad form waving at them from the parapet of the town wall.

  Jools pointed. “It must be Aswan!”

  When they got closer, they could make out the apron and earnest features of the village leather worker, a man who was a canny trader and a special admirer of Kim’s. The three friends dismounted and led their horses through the gate. Rob was glad to see that the war-torn village had managed to craft a new iron golem.

  “Oh, Kim—beautiful flower, light of my life!” Aswan hailed Battalion Zero’s horse master from his perch. “Do not fade. I’ll be right down!”

  Jools and Rob looked at each other. Kim took the compliments in stride, as usual. While they waited, she waved and nodded to residents she knew.

  The leather worker appeared and took Nightwind’s reins from Kim. “You’re like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day,” he said to her fervently.

  “The better to keep the skellies away,” Jools quipped.

  Kim smiled noncommittally.

  “Delegate,” Rob greeted him. “We’re right pleased you’ll be working with us.” The tradesman’s intelligence network had helped the battalion deal with griefers in the past.

  Now Aswan grinned, revealing several of his gold teeth. “It’s one way to stay in the know.”

  “I’m sure it will be a two-way street.”

  Aswan nodded in Kim’s direction. “If only it were a honeymoon suite.” When she didn’t react, he said, “But, you must be hungry! And tired, of course. Come along. Let’s get you settled for the night.” He noticed a creeper spawn up ahead, moving in their direction, so he steered Nightwind away.

  Jools pulled a bow and arrows from his inventory. P-rong! P-rong! The creeper imploded and dropped a bit of gunpowder, which a wayward village child snatched and ran off with before anyone else could get to it.

  On their way down the main village street, the troopers paused to do some trading. Jools popped in to visit the librarian, to get some glass he needed for crafting brewing bottles. Then he and Aswan waited at the village well while Kim and Rob visited Sundra, the blacksmith and armorer. She reset Nightwind’s shoes and repaired some chainmail boots Rob had acquired from a skeleton drop. Sundra, who was sweet on the battalion’s sergeant at arms, asked after Turner’s health. She foll
owed the troopers outside to say hello to Jools, who had also caught her eye during previous trades.

  “You’re looking smart, Sundra,” Jools complimented the sturdily built woman. “Is that a new hairstyle?”

  “Naw,” she said, preening bashfully, “I’ve dyed it!” Her long, straight hair was now the same reddish color of her skin.

  “It suits you,” Rob said, causing her to flush an even deeper shade of red and flutter her eyelashes at him hopefully. He tried to redirect her interest. “Sorry Turner couldn’t ride out with us this time.”

  “You tell that beefsteak of a man my barn door’s always open,” she said.

  They took their leave and headed for Aswan’s shop and home. Rob felt a warm glow spread through his chest. It felt good to see acquaintances in a part of the Overworld he’d visited before. It made him feel less like a stranger in a strange land, and more like . . . he belonged.

  The group arrived at Aswan’s fortified bunker, where they saw to the horses and presented a few leather goods that needed mending or modifying. While the tradesman worked on a pair of shoulder holsters for Turner, the troopers filled their food bars with fresh produce. Aswan also produced three cakes for dessert—one for each of them. Kim’s had been decorated with frosting flowers and an outline of a heart with an arrow through it.

  “Sweets for the sweet,” Aswan murmured when she expressed her thanks.

  After their appetites were satisfied and the repair work done, their host managed to shelve his feelings for Kim long enough to sit down and discuss UBO business. “Now, can you tell me in detail what my delegate duties will be?” he asked. “I want to do all I can to promote a righteous government.”

  The village of Sunflower had been targeted again and again by the griefer army, which had threatened, pillaged, and burned out the inhabitants in an effort to take over the plains biome. But the villagers had fought back, first in a battle to protect their own territory, and later, for the good of the Overworld in the failed attempt at Zombie Hill. When approached with the prospect of a resurrected UBO administration, Aswan had rallied the villagers in support. They’d selected him as their biome delegate.

  “The colonel and judge are finalizing plans for democratic input,” Rob informed Aswan. “For now, you’ll be invited to bring your village’s concerns to the table and enlist volunteers for civic duties.”

  Jools helped the new ambassador set up a secure network connection for online meetings of the governing body. In exchange for his participation and a small monthly sum in trade from the villagers, the United Biome administration would provide defense—by the cavalry in the short term, and by the standing army once it got on its feet. Rob’s leadership was held in high regard throughout the village. Some of the Sunflowerites had expressed interest in joining up.

  “We could use your help with another matter, too,” Rob told Aswan.

  The three troopers related the sinkhole incident and their suspicion that griefers might be targeting the capital city’s construction. “Can you sniff out any news of gang activity in our area?” Rob asked the leather worker. “We’re interested in someone who might be operating underground.”

  “And keep it under your helmet,” Kim added. “We don’t want anyone to suspect that the UBO might be in trouble.”

  “I should say, Delegate, this is right up your street,” Jools put in. They all knew that the tradesman was a master at keeping an ear to the ground while maintaining a firmly buttoned lip.

  Aswan flashed all of his gold teeth this time. “You can count on me.”

  CHAPTER 4

  THE TRADESMAN BADE KIM AND COMPANY A tearful farewell when they set out the next morning for her farm. “Don’t forget to write!” he called as Kim waved good-bye from Nightwind’s back.

  The mood was far lighter on their approach to Kim’s property than it had been the last time, when the specter of zombie horses awaited them. Rob felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of the farm’s well-kept fencing and horses up to their hocks in thick grass. That’s the way it should be, he thought, wishing the battalion’s herd didn’t require a booby-trapped moat to keep them safe.

  The group found Swale in his vegetable patch near the stable. The man’s prospects had improved considerably, and it showed. His unkempt hair had been trimmed, his clothing was neat, and he proudly showed them boxes of healthy seedlings bound for Beta city. The Overworld capital was to have its own irrigated garden alongside the community well, to serve its residents.

  “Here’s them melon and pumpkin starts you asked for,” he said, and Jools placed them in his inventory for transport. Swale turned to Kim. “Now, I have a surprise for you.”

  He led them to a large stall in the stable that was bedded heavily with sweet-smelling straw. When Rob’s vision adjusted to the dimness, he saw two pairs of soft doe-eyes looking back at them.

  “Josie!” Kim cried, moving swiftly for the door. “And . . . a little Josie!” She slid the stall door open and let herself in. A copper-colored mare and her fuzzy foal stood their ground, and the baby stretched out its neck in Kim’s direction. Then the little thing jumped straight up in the air, lost its footing, and landed in a heap.

  “She’s a firecracker,” Swale said, smiling. “And a big, strong filly. What’ll you name her?”

  Kim turned to Rob and Jools. “Any ideas?”

  “She’ll likely be chestnut colored, like her mama,” Rob said.

  “How about Redstone?” Jools suggested.

  “Full of energy,” Kim said. “That’s it!”

  They admired the filly a bit longer and then strode out to the pastures to see the saddle horse prospects that Swale was training. Rob ached to handle them—just give up being captain for a day and enjoy the way time unraveled when working with horses. But Swale was new to the job and clearly proud of what he’d accomplished so far. Rob didn’t want to steal his thunder.

  Coincidentally, a sound like thunder arose as they stood observing one of the young horses. Hoof beats indicated somebody moving in from the north.

  Rob and the others cast worried gazes at the horizon and saw a party of three riders skirting a distant stand of trees. They were too far off to identify, and they kept going on past until they were out of sight again.

  Swale frowned at the breach in countryside etiquette. “Friendlies would’ve visited.”

  “Uglies would’ve attacked,” Jools said.

  “Unless they saw us and felt outnumbered,” Kim argued.

  Rob had noted the absence of security measures on the place. “Swale, how’re you fixed for weapons?” he asked.

  The simple farmer cocked his head. “I’ve got plenty of hoe and shovel handles, if that’s what you mean.”

  Rob caught Kim’s eye. The two troopers had first met the farmer when rustlers made off with some of his herd. “Corporal. Why don’t you craft some weapons and give Mr. Swale, here, some instruction in using them? Jools and I will make the trek to Spike City and meet you back at Beta. Oh, and tame a couple of wolves. Let’s keep Josie and Redstone safe.”

  *

  Rob and Jools set out right away for the long ride over the extreme hills to the ice plains. A double potion of swiftness perked up Beckett’s gait to match Saber’s energetic trot. The cavalry troopers followed the old minecart route back toward Beta. They stopped briefly to check in with Stormie, Frida, and Turner, who were holding down the fort.

  Seeing that the cav camp was in order and hearing that construction was moving along, the captain and quartermaster continued on their journey, up and over the mountainous summit. On their way down the other side, Rob pointed out the Nether portal that lay near the site of their last horrific battle with Lady Craven’s mobs. He couldn’t help but picture the scene he’d witnessed that night, full of monsters and destruction. The hillside had been ablaze, the air thick with smoke—as though the Overworld had traded places with the Nether.

  “I’d never seen so many zombies,” Rob muttered.

  “
They were like undead ants at a picnic,” Jools said. “Looks like the trees have grown back, though.”

  The downhill ride took them swiftly from the hot heights and through a temperate zone at the edge of the ice plains. Rob felt the temperature drop with every step Saber took. Before them, a long-ago snowfall had left the odd spruce and oak trees draped in lacey flakes that hadn’t melted. The sky was a silvery blue, dotted with ice-cube clouds. Cold, packed snow squeaked beneath the horses’ hooves.

  Suddenly, Jools and Beckett stopped. Jools held up a hand and listened. “What’s that?”

  Rob heard a far-off whining that rose and fell, like some sort of power tool from his old world. “It’s coming from the direction of the village.”

  The riders urged their horses along the empty minecart tracks until they spied the icy towers of Spike City, the largest settlement Rob had encountered in the southern hemisphere. He remembered it as a harsh, yet beautiful place. They drew closer, and the whining got louder. The riders could see movement on the outskirts of town.

  Beckett’s potion had worn off and Saber’s instincts had kicked in. Both horses slowed to a crawl, not wanting to approach the strange noise. When they got near enough to see shiny objects whirling through space, it was all Rob and Jools could to do to press them forward.

  Finally, the animals stopped altogether, tense as two creepers ready to explode. Rob couldn’t believe his eyes.

  The minecart tracks ended abruptly. Someone had scavenged them and laid out an oval track outside the city walls. Around and around on the rails flew several souped-up minecarts, piloted by players in black leather jackets and round mirrored sunglasses. There was much pumping of fists and yelling in a language Rob couldn’t distinguish.

  One of the drivers noticed the upset horses and decided to “help” by blasting a bullhorn of some kind as his cart passed by. Saber kicked out at the new threat. Beckett recapped his bee-sting act, nearly unseating Jools before he could be brought under control. The other drivers jeered loudly, continuing their circuit. Rob thought it best to dismount and lead the horses into the city. Jools gladly agreed.