Virtual War: Alpha Centauri (A LitRPG Novel) Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Disclaimer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Links

  VIRTUAL WAR:

  ALPHA CENTAURI

  A LitRPG Novel

  Steven J Shelley

  Copyright © 2017 Blue Orchid Books

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual places is purely coincidental.

  Not recommended for younger readers.

  1

  Major John D Talbot was indulging in a little “downtime” with Lieutenant Laura Fielding when his wrist pad chimed.

  “Damn,” he murmured, sliding his sweaty body over hers, enjoying the friction. “I’ve been summoned by Admiral Gann.”

  “That was quick,” Laura groaned. “We only just moved into orbit.”

  John laughed at the potential innuendo, but he’d felt it too - that subtle shift in momentum that suggested the Terran flagship Aurora had made orbit over the planet Regal. The fleet had finally been granted access to the mysterious Alpha Centauri system. A tiny part of the galaxy that could decide an entire war.

  “I can pretend I didn’t hear it,” John said, nuzzling his head in the Lieutenant’s breasts. “You know, slide into my burrow for a while.”

  Laura chuckled - a deep, throaty sound that John had grown fond of. The pair had shared the Terran flagship for three years now. Enough time to develop a casual habit. A pattern of despicable behavior neither seemed in a rush to develop further. Perhaps they were two of a kind. ‘Rogues’ was probably the best description.

  Talbot’s wrist pad chimed insistently. Hands on the Lieutenant’s “assets”, Talbot shook his head theatrically, as if that could sober him up.

  “Shit,” he conceded, leaning back on his haunches. “I’m gonna need a cigarette.”

  He stumbled across his tiny berth and found his Royal Oaks, lighting up with a wry smile.

  Fielding drew the sheets around her.

  “You know, you really are an asshole,” she said. “Anyone else I know would be halfway to the Admiral already.”

  “He’s a man, just like me,” Talbot said. “If he doesn’t like it, he can court-marshal me. I’d thank him for it.”

  “You’re a piece of work, Talbot.”

  The pair had taken to calling each other by their surnames. Talbot theorized that it maintained some kind of barrier. Close, but not too close.

  “You gonna get dressed?” she drawled.

  Talbot lifted Laura Fielding’s bra and panties off the floor.

  “You first,” he said, eyes twinkling.

  A pair of marines were waiting for Talbot in the corridor.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure I can find my own way, gentlemen.”

  “I’m sorry, Major,” the less wooden one said in clipped tones. “Something’s up with the Admiral.”

  Talbot was marched directly into the Executive Suite that sat above the Bridge. Instead of the usual wait in the plush lounge, where Talbot sometimes enjoyed a pastry and decent coffee, he was escorted straight through to the barrel-chested Admiral in his crisp, navy blue suit.

  Gann raised a hand just as Talbot was about to speak. The marines withdrew, closing the door behind them.

  A projected holograph of a man’s head materialized on the Admiral’s desk. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

  “Major Talbot,” the Admiral said through gritted teeth, “the President of the Terran Republic.”

  The projected head looked in Talbot’s direction.

  came a voice like golden syrup,

  Talbot didn’t think the tone was complementary, so wisely kept his mouth shut.

  President Langdon said.

  “We agreed our man would come from the Terran Corps, President,” the Admiral said. “I hear you’re a man of your word.”

  President Langdon handed the Admiral a thin smile.

  came the reply.

  Admiral Gann sighed. He looked drawn and tired. Wrinkled purple bags drooped under his rheumy eyes.

  “The Corps has never shied away from its duty, Langdon. Gann out.”

  The Admiral killed the connection with a pained look.

  “Politics,” Talbot offered with a grin. “What an asshole.”

  Gann glared at his subordinate.

  “He may be an asshole, but that’s not for you to say, Major.”

  So it was gonna be like that. Talbot stood a little straighter, keeping his gaze trained on a spot over the Admiral’s shoulder. He could feel Gann’s critical gaze boring holes through him.

  “The President doesn’t like the look of you,” the Admiral began. “He may be riddled with faults, but first impressions aren’t one of them. I’d say that particular skill is honed to a sharp edge.”

  Talbot resisted a grin. In a strange way he loved it when the Admiral got down and dirty. It was so transparently entertaining. He had to be careful though - showing any mirth at this juncture would earn him a day or two in the brig.

  “Truth be told, I don’t like you either,” the Admiral admitted.

  Well that was obvious. Talbot steeled himself for what was coming next. Judging from the soft tap of the Admiral’s fingers on his lightscreen, it was going to be a lecture.

  “Two years at Yullis,” the Admiral began. “No medals. Not even a commendation. Don’t worry, you did earn three complaints. You were transferred, hidden is probably a better word, in the Courier Division. Seven years on the Holst-Sol run. Countless reports of ribald hijinks, black market trading and various other abuses of station. Nothing ever proved. Talbot, I look at your record and only one conclusion can be drawn - you’re just a bad soldier. Period. The worst kind for the Terran Corps. The war with the Irians is so tight, so desperate, we can’t even get rid of you. I long for the days when the Corps was jam packed with folks who wanted to fight. Dealing with men like you gives my peptic ulcer the shits.”

  Talbot looked the Admiral in the eye.

  “Colorful analogy, sir.”

  “Come again?”

  “Well, peptic ulcers are actually located in -”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” the Admiral sneered, showing a glimpse of his younger, more aggressive self. He composed himself with visible effort.

  “I didn’t bring you here to raise my blood pressure,” he said quietly. “I wanted to ensure you’re the right man to lead us into The Game.”

  Of course he did. The Game was on everyone’s minds. It was a huge, dark cloud looming over all of humanity. The Terran Republic had been engaged in a vicious war with the Irians for twelve long years. Wave after wave of marines had been th
rown at enemy fleets. The age of conscription had been lowered to fourteen. Families all over the Terran Republic were showing clear signs of war fatigue. To continue fighting would break the spirit of a proud space-faring civilization.

  So it was with much relief that Terran spies discovered that the Irians, for all their bravado, were suffering just as much. If anything, their supply lines were even longer than the Terrans’, which placed added pressure on their dwindling resources.

  The races shared precious little in common, which was partly why relations had grown so hostile over decades of mutual expansion. One thing they did share, however, was a love of Immersion gaming. No one really knew who developed the technology first, but it had spread far and wide across two civilizations.

  The essential components to Immersion gaming were commonly available - all you required was an Immersion tank (reasonably costly), a nex connection (free on almost every inhabited planet) and a game of choice. Spread across every conceivable genre, there were millions to choose from. They elicited a special thrill not to be found in bleak, war-torn reality. Incredibly, Immersion gaming had outstripped military technology in its rate of evolution.

  Recognizing this form of gaming as the dominant recreational pastime within human and Irian cultures, a fellowship of diplomats put forward the outrageous notion that the war be decided by pixel runners, not soldiers.

  Of course, the idea was roundly ridiculed and promptly forgotten. But casualties continued to mount and both sides lost strategically valuable systems. Gradually, over time, the revolutionary idea gained traction. At the very least, senators and heads of state began asking how it would all work.

  The more a ‘virtual war’ was canvassed, the more feasible it seemed. After all, the technology was thoroughly understood by both sides. The games themselves differed slightly between cultures, but those concerning resource-building and strategy were essentially kindred spirits.

  With growing excitement, Terran and Irian governments consulted with their military leaders, who were overwhelmingly in favor of such a plan. Both armies were so depleted that military analysts could not see decisive victories for anyone. The only certainty was attritional decline for both participants, which of course was bad governance.

  As the great Virtual War between the Terran Republic and the Irian Empire gained momentum, the only remaining question was how to mount it.

  What would the battlefield look like? What kind of ‘armies’ could be deployed?

  Negotiations seemed to have reached a gridlock until the perfect solution appeared out of the blue.

  Three planets were discovered simultaneously by human and Irian explorers in the Centaurus constellation. The ‘coincidence’ came as no surprise, as Irians tended to shadow Terran fleet movements and vice versa.

  Previously undetected, the planets lay within the Goldilocks zone of the Alpha Centauri system.

  If a joint body of gaming engineers could reproduce a battle zone drawn from each planet, the Virtual War had found an ideal theater. Why not ‘fight’ for real world assets and resources on terrain as close to accurate as possible?

  The Virtual War would take place over three battles, adopting a ‘best of three’ victory condition. The winner would have exclusive access to the Alpha Centauri system, acquiring untold resources in the process. Early scans suggested a rich variety of bounty, particularly on Avari, a jungle planetoid. Officials dared not admit it, but the conqueror of the Alpha Centauri system stood a very good chance of ending the war once and for all.

  The stakes couldn’t be any higher.

  2

  So it was with a belligerent serenity that Major Talbot framed his reply to Admiral Gann. He’d never asked to lead this crazy venture. Like most common soldiers, he thought it was bat shit crazy. In fact, anyone in their right mind would actively avoid the ‘Virtual War’. The price of failure was ridiculously high. The ‘phony war’, as Talbot liked to call it, could only lead to abject misery for the loser. Something a free-spirited rogue like Talbot could easily do without.

  “Permission to speak freely, Admiral,” he said in a flat voice.

  Gann rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, if you must.”

  Talbot met Gann in the eye. “I don’t give a fuck whether I lead this thing or not. The whole thing is a daft crap shoot. We should either continue to blow each other to smithereens or, ya know, make some kind of peace deal.”

  Admiral Gann looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Even from his seated position he managed to look down over his nose at Talbot like he was some kind of mangy dog.

  “Here I was, believing you were a critical thinker,” he said. “Don’t get sucked in by the war machine propaganda. The Terran Corps is so depleted we wouldn’t last another fuckin’ year. Through a combination of brilliant espionage and dumb luck, the Irians haven’t cottoned on.”

  On reflection, it seemed true. Talbot hadn’t seen a gaggle of pale-blue suited rookies for months now.

  “So why am I here, Admiral?” he muttered. “If I’m such a screw-up, find someone else to twiddle joysticks with.”

  Gann looked like he was about to retort, then thought better of it.

  “Why did it have to be you?” he sighed.

  Talbot looked at him blankly. “I’m sorry, Admiral, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ll recall the aptitude testing we ran six months ago. At least, that’s how we sold it. Nested in all those exercises were specific probes. The test wasn’t designed to measure intelligence. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  Now it was Talbot’s turn to roll his eyes.

  “The inconvenient truth,” the Admiral went on, “is that your task-match profile is better than anyone else’s by 23%. Reflexology scores off the charts. Your understanding of virtual environments is second to none. You showed superb aptitude with managing resources in all our simulations. And, I might add, in your stint as a courier. Official and unofficial cargo.”

  Talbot couldn’t help but smile.

  “We also know you play games,” Gann said with a challenging look. “Lots of them.”

  “How in seven hells would you know that?” Talbot asked, though he needn’t have bothered. It was clear that High Command had been monitoring him, probably since he’d scored so highly on the tests. Every single game he’d played … including the more adult ones. He felt like he should be affronted, but it was a waste of time and emotion. The Terran Corps was at war and personal liberty had been thrown out the window.

  “So you know when I scratch my ass,” Talbot said. “Which means you also know that I’m not great with people. Relationships. That kind of thing.”

  Gann nodded. “This mission isn’t a popularity contest. We’ve got you pegged as someone who won’t shy away from hard decisions. Probably because you’re an asshole, like you say.”

  “I didn’t really say that -”

  “Cut the crap, Talbot. Stop pretending that leading an elite force into an open-world role-playing strategy game doesn’t light your fire.”

  The Major paused. It was true. These guys knew so much about him they had an answer for everything. He was attracted to the idea of exploring exotic planets in an Immersion setting. He’d never been able to afford an Immersion tank - his only experience had been at a tech market on Cirrus Two. That glimpse had been utterly tantalizing. He’d been pining ever since, which was the major reason he hadn’t dismissed Admiral Gann’s approach out of hand.

  “Okay, you got me,” Talbot said. “If you people are crazy enough to send me into a virtual war, I won’t argue the toss.”

  Gann leaned back in his chair, studying Talbot intently.

  “You hide your desires well,” the older man concluded. “This mission will be the making of you, one way or another.”

  Talbot stifled a grimace. He had a firm grasp on what was at stake here. Glorious hero or despised villain - there would be no in-between.

  “Right,” Gann said decisive
ly. “To housekeeping. Your expeditionary force will consist of one hundred personnel, including yourself. After much consultation with my support team, I’ve decided to allow you the right to choose your own people. I have only one requirement - that Toni Sentori be your strategic adviser.

  Talbot considered that for a moment. Toni Sentori was a tough, brutal drill sergeant with a penchant for mental disintegration. She did get results - her platoons had the highest survival rates. But a virtual war was a different kettle of fish altogether.

  “No,” Talbot said flatly. “I understand the need for military excellence, Admiral, but this game will be about adapting to each planet’s terrain. Developing skills and maximizing the impact of each one. Engineers will be the deciding factor.”

  Gann directed a baleful gaze in Talbot’s direction.

  “In my opinion,” the Major added hopefully.

  “I’ll humor you for a moment,” Gann said in exasperation. “Who would be your choice?”

  “Sergeant Banner.”

  Gary “Quantum” Banner was somewhat of a legend in the Terran Corps. Though he was pushing sixty, old Quantum was responsible for many of the technical innovations that had kept the Terrans in the war for so long. He knew every engineer and technician by name and harbored a deep love of mechanical crafting. He and Talbot hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but Talbot couldn’t think of a better right-hand man for the unique environment of a Virtual War.

  “Banner’s far too old,” the Admiral said dismissively.

  “Been nice talking to you,” Talbot said. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “Don’t be so fucking juvenile,” Gann simmered. “Banner isn’t without his uses. You can have him.”

  Talbot beamed at the glowering Admiral. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been sweating that particular victory.

  “If that’s all, Admiral …”

  “Of course it’s not all,” Gann said. “This entire project is damn close to a green light. The Irians have constructed two hundred Immersion Tanks in the main hangar of Terangdor, their flagship.”