Grow Up

by Craig Anderson

  Cover illustration by Sicarius8

  (https://sicarius8.deviantart.com)

  Title Font: Press Start 2P by Codeman38

  Copyright © 2019 by Craig Anderson

  Edited by Celestian Rince

  ***

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to Neve and Pierce. May you grow old, but never grow up!

  Contents

  Level 1: Alpha-bet

  Level 2: Down to Earth

  Level 3: Delivering

  Level 4: Think Fast

  Level 5: Baby Steps

  Level 6: Into the Fire

  Level 7: Below the Belt

  Level 8: Feeding Frenzy

  Level 9: Terms and Conditions

  Level 10: Rankers

  Level 11: Ready. Fire. Aim.

  Level 12: Aftermath

  Level 13: From the Frying Pan…

  Level 14: Trial and Error

  Level 15: The House Always Wins

  Level 16: Change Your Mind

  Level 17: You’re Barred

  Level 18: Forgive & Forget

  Level 19: In Love & Law

  Level 20: Money Talks

  Level 21: Trials and Tribulations

  Level 22: Poker Face

  Level 23: Damage Control

  Epilogue: Low Profile

  Also by Craig Anderson

  Acknowledgements

  Level 1: Alpha-bet

  The ship sliced silently through space, its black hull shimmering as it passed the familiar yellow star. This section of the galaxy was known for its unusual peace and quiet, primarily because the Galactic Corp hadn’t bothered coming out this far yet. They would eventually, because that was what they did. They grew and grew, until there was nothing left to consume. Blurgon was simply the next planet on the menu.

  Gargle stared out of the viewer, admiring the scenery. There was something calming about being out here, a sense of wonder that he had thought had long since been extinguished. This part of the universe was a blank canvas, so full of possibility, the exact opposite of himself. It felt like out here he could be anything and anyone, but that was not how the world worked. He was a courier, and that was all he would ever be, from the day he was born, to the day he gave up his shell and became permanently ethereal.

  The thought made him smile. This was the longest he had ever had one shell. He was particularly pleased with this one and had taken great care of it, ever since he stumbled across it on Krogon. The previous inhabitant had only recently expired, though from what was unclear, but the body was in perfect working order and barely had a scratch on it. The tentacles were slightly longer than he would have liked, and the musk glands were a tad enthusiastic, but aside from that it was perfect.

  He glanced at the pile of crates in the corner of the room and then checked his personal communicator. His Task Log was very clear, he was to deliver the crates to the Blurgon Law School personally, and wasn’t to stop for anything, particularly the Galactic Corp. He had no idea what was in the crates, nor did he want to know. The creature that he had met in the middle of deep space to make the trade was certainly not a registered G.C. vendor, that much was clear. It was undoubtedly something rare and valuable; lawyers wouldn’t send him halfway across the galaxy for some Claxion take-out, no matter how tasty the dipping sauce was.

  Actually, knowing those arrogant jerks, that was absolutely something they would do. They would gladly risk his capture and imprisonment without a second thought. They were not known for their empathy. That was the advantage that came with being the last line of defence between Blurgon and a very hostile takeover.

  Gargle was still staring out of the viewer when a red light started flashing in the corner. He glanced up at it, puzzled, then pulled up a menu on his communicator. When that didn’t provide the answers he was looking for, he spoke. “Computer, what are you doing?”

  The A.I. was an optional upgrade on this model of ship, but well worth the price. Most of his fellow couriers refused to trust A.I.s after the incident, but Gargle had no such qualms. She effectively replaced the crew, allowing Gargle to travel across the known universe all by himself, which was exactly how he liked it.

  She spoke softly, her voice coming from his personal communicator. “I have reduced thrust.”

  “Reduced thrust? We are almost at a safe distance to jump, you know how those lawyers get if I’m late. Why are you slowing down?” He waited for her response, praying that she wasn’t going to start acting up again. They had already bumped heads a few times on the journey, figuratively speaking, to the point where he had muted her entirely for the second half of the outgoing trip. The dealership assured him that it was just part of her initialization period and that with time she would adapt to his unique style of leadership. Gargle suspected that was what they told everyone, right up until the warranty ended.

  “That is classified.”

  “Classified? You’re my A.I., how can anything be classified from me?”

  Her voice changed, becoming more robotic. “Alpha Protocol override.”

  “Oh great, why didn’t you say so. Just one quick follow-up question, what the heck is the Alpha Protocol?”

  ***

  Josh slumped in his seat at the back of the class while Mr. Murray droned away at the whiteboard. The teacher had an amazing ability to speak continuously without changing his tone, which turned every lecture into a soothing lullaby. Josh fought hard to keep his eyes open as Old man Murray prattled on. “The challenge with fighting a guerrilla war is that your opponent has considerably more resources available to them. Your advantage is that you are small and fast, while they are large and slow. If they cannot hit you, they cannot hurt you, and after several failed attempts they will stop trying. Examples from history include…”

  Josh stopped listening.

  Old Man Murray was exactly as his name suggested. The running joke was that he was so knowledgeable about history because he’d been there. His tuft of grey hair was thinning, but he had complemented it with a thick grey moustache that twitched when he spoke. It was the only thing that got excited when Mr. Murray spoke.

  The gravity in the room increased dramatically, or at least the gravity around Josh’s eyelids. He mumbled a curse to himself. It was his own fault; he should never have stayed up so late playing Shadow Souls. He vowed never to make that mistake again. Of course, if that particular vow hadn’t worked the last 36 times it was unlikely to do the trick this time. He was already daydreaming about getting home and booting it back up. Josh just had to endure fifteen more minutes of Captain Mono-drone until the final bell.

  He opened his trusty notebook, the one that he’d been using for the entire Shadow Souls sadistic run. Page after page had notes that had been crossed out, problems that seemed impossible at the time that he had slowly figured out solutions for. He was currently up to Problem #147.

  Josh was so close to fulfilling his life’s purpose: completing Shadow Souls on the sadistic difficulty setting, with all the Shadow Skulls turned on. The skulls each had their own unique effect, all of them bad, from giving every enemy triple the health, to doubling their DPS or increasing their movement speed so much they glided around the stages like a greased-up whippet on rollerblades. Thanks to the 3rd skull, a low-level enemy could one-shot his ninja avatar even if he was blocking, which meant that dodging was the only feasible strategy. That was only compounded by the 8th skull, which removed all checkpoints and save points, so every death sent him back to the start of the game. That didn’t even take into account how brutally h
ard the sadistic difficulty was before the skulls were turned on.

  It was a fool’s errand, a pointless task, with no value except to prove just how stubborn he really was. All the Shadow Souls forums agreed that it was impossible. Even the game’s developers had gone on record saying as much, suggesting that the skulls were just fun modifiers that were never intended to be activated simultaneously, and certainly not at the higher difficulty levels.

  The more it was declared unachievable, the harder Josh tried. Every death galvanized his resolve. He would be the one to prove everyone wrong, to push the boundaries of what was possible. Slowly but surely, inch by painstaking inch, he had learned the intricacies of survival. Which enemies hesitated for a split second before attacking, who feigned retreat, and who favoured sneak attacks from above. He had built up a mental map of the game over hundreds of hours of practice, his muscle memory honed to a razor-sharp point. He could practically play the game blindfolded. That might be his next challenge.

  Last night he’d almost beaten it. He’d made it to the Shadow King’s bodyguard, the penultimate boss. He had even managed to whittle her down to under half her HP, a feat which took the better part of an hour, before an errant shuriken had clipped Josh mid-dodge and ended the run. It was the quietest rage quit in history, due to it being 3 a.m. His dad was a particularly light sleeper — he would jolt awake if a mouse farted two houses down — and Josh didn’t particularly feel like explaining why he was jumping up and down on his controller.

  His trusty controller. They had been through a lot together. It had bounced off more than one hard surface and had the scars to prove it. The left analogue stick was slightly loose, the right trigger made a clicking sound, and his favourite gaming snacks had left a light orange tinge that no amount of alcohol wipes could buff out. It was his most cherished possession, at least out of all the items his mother hadn’t sold.

  Tonight was the night; Josh could feel it. If he rushed straight home and started early he could finish the game right around midnight, which would give him time to kick off the upload before he went to bed. He would wake up in the morning a Shadow Souls legend. The fans would write books about today. Ok, maybe not books, but certainly blog posts, possibly even shouty videos.

  This was it, the last day of being a nobody and the start of his new life as a…

  A slamming sound jolted Josh awake, and his heart tried to escape out of his throat. He sat bolt-upright to see Mr. Murray glaring at him, along with several other students, who were busy sniggering. The teacher shook his head. “Mr. Harper, I had so hoped not to make good on my threat from your last solo slumber party. Please see me after class.”

  “No, sir, I wasn’t sleeping, I was…” Josh scrambled for a plausible reason, anything to avoid the inevitable. “Meditating, to help me learn better?”

  Mr. Murray smirked. “Meditating you say? Then I suppose you’ll be able to recall the name of the Chinese general that first proposed the use of guerrilla warfare?”

  Only one Chinese general sprang to mind. Josh said, “General Tso?”

  That earned a laugh from the students around him, but Mr. Murray failed to see the funny side. He said, “Perhaps if you made some notes in that notebook of yours?”

  He leaned over to get a closer look and Josh quickly flipped to a blank page. He wrote GUERILLA WARFARE - FIGHT BIGGER BAD GUYS in large block capitals before realizing he had nothing else to add.

  “I thought so. Let’s chat more about your favourite chicken dishes after class.”

  Not good, but there was still time to formulate a plan. If he could just get out of the room without Old Man Murray seeing him, then he could feign forgetfulness and still make it home in time to start his sadistic run at a reasonable hour. There would be hell to pay tomorrow, but that was future Josh’s problem.

  He jumped as the bell rang. Why was it ringing early? He checked his phone and sighed. It was 3:30pm. How long had he been asleep? Too long. He was out of time and out of options. He had no choice but to face the music. On tonight, of all nights.

  The other students stampeded out of the room in a whirlwind of activity, some laughing, others nervously reviewing their notes from the lesson.

  Josh scooped the contents of his desk into his tattered green backpack and slung it over his shoulder, the weight of the books threatening to topple him. He strained his non-existent core muscles to try and steady himself, with only his low centre of gravity saving him from a face-plant. Good balance was one of the few advantages of being short, along with paying less at the cinema and still being able to fit into an airplane seat.

  Mr. Murray loomed over Josh before awkwardly leaning on the nearest desk. It was his attempt to look casual, which only made Josh feel more uncomfortable. His moustache twitched as he started to speak. “Josh, I know that you’ve had a lot going on at home lately, but that doesn’t excuse your behaviour in my classroom. You seem to think the rules don’t apply to you. You’re disrespecting me and your fellow classmates. I told you if this happened again I’d have to give you an after-school detention…”

  Perhaps there was still a chance to rescue the situation. “I’m sorry, sir, really I am. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the divorce. I can’t help but feel like the whole thing is my fault somehow.” He wobbled his voice just enough at the end to be convincing. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.

  Unfortunately for Josh, Old Man Murray had heard his fair share of sob stories over the many, many years he had been teaching. He’d developed an excellent bullshit detector, and right now it was lit up brighter than a hedgehog on Guy Fawkes night.

  “Are you sure your anxiety isn’t due to the report card you’re taking home today?”

  Damn, he was good. Josh had almost managed to forget about the dreaded document he was carrying around in his backpack. Each of his teachers had provided some very pointed feedback about areas Josh could work on before the upcoming exams. There were a lot of areas for improvement, and he suspected his dad may have some choice feedback of his own.

  “No sir, I always appreciate constructive feedback and I look forward to improving my behaviour.”

  “You are out of time, young man. Your exams start in a couple of weeks, and they will determine your entire future. I can’t stress how important this is, you need to be taking it seriously.”

  “Of course sir, I will rush straight home and study.”

  Old Man Murray smiled. “I’m sure you will, but we had an understanding. The last time I caught you sleeping in my classroom you agreed that if it happened again I would have no choice but to send you to detention. How could you ever respect me if I didn’t keep my word?”

  Josh did his best to keep the panic out of his voice. “I totally understand, sir, but does it have to be tonight? I have a prior engagement that is time-sensitive. I’ll happily do my detention tomorrow night, or any other day this week.”

  “I’m sorry, young man, but that is not how a punishment works. We do not slot it in to your busy social calendar. Please head straight to detention, I will let Mr. Tucker know that you are on your way. If you don’t arrive there promptly I will be forced to call your parents to let them know. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir,” Josh said, utterly defeated. He could slay a level 99 Demon Samurai with his eyes closed, but he couldn’t sweet-talk an old guy with a moustache. He braced himself, hefted his backpack up onto his shoulder, and then set off for the gym.

  His dad was going to be pissed.

  ***

  The hum of the engines slowly died down as the ship entered the strange planet’s orbit. Gargle admired the deep blues and greens that were scattered across its surface. “What is this planet? I don’t recall ever seeing it before.”

  “There are no records of this planet in my database.”

  “How is that possible? We have flown this way countless times, how did we miss an entire life-bearing planet?”

  “Unknown. It is statistically unlikely that we
would have overlooked it previously. The only logical conclusion is intermittent scanner faults.”

  Gargle did not like the sound of that. “Run a full diagnostic. We can’t have scanners failing, we need to know what is around us at all times.”

  “Affirmative. Running diagnostics now,” the Ship’s Computer said. She sounded mildly annoyed.

  “I’m still unclear why we are delaying the delivery of this important parcel to make a stop at this undiscovered ball of colourful rock. This isn’t exactly a sight-seeing trip.”

  “My long-range scanners detected radio signals, which suggests the inhabitants of this planet have reached at least a low level of technology. That creates a valid scenario to investigate, according to the guidelines outlined in the Alpha Protocol.”

  “Yes, you keep saying that, but you need to tell me what it is. I have never heard of it before,” Gargle said, doing his best to keep his cool. Being late with a parcel delivery went against everything he believed in and would be marked on his record; if he was going to do it voluntarily then he really needed to know why.

  “As you know the Galactic Corp is always expanding, looking for any signs of intelligent life that they can absorb into their construct. Alpha Protocol states that I must always do what is in the best interests of High Command. If this planet has useful lifeforms or resources, we must immediately attempt to stake our claim to it, for the good of Blurgon.”

  “Isn’t that a lengthy process? I thought an official claim could take several orbits. What’s the rush? Surely we can drop these goods off first and then send a more suitable vessel back to this location to formally begin the process.”