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

  Truth be told, Talbot’s shock wasn’t as all-encompassing as it might have been. A practical man at heart, he had already written off the commandos as a bad investment. Besides, wheeling around with Paul Carter in unknown territory with a band of merciless Irians breathing down their necks was hardly sustainable.

  Talbot wondered how many aliens the commandos had taken down with them, if any. Ashby was craftier than anyone in the game - these men had probably been ambushed. The bloated faces of these poor humans were already turning blue. The mud was scarlet with blood.

  With a twinge of frustration Talbot realized the ground water supply was contaminated unless they could find another well spring further north. Ashby was continuing his domination of the Terrans - this wasn’t just a hostile message, or even a warning. It was a gleeful statement of fact. Ashby was telling Talbot he could, and would, do anything he damn well liked.

  Sadly, there was absolutely nothing the Terrans could do in retaliation. All their righteous fury may as well be pissing into the mud like the blood from those heads. All of a sudden the afternoon’s good work seemed like a useless frivolity. The Terrans were babes in the woods, larking around until they got slaughtered by a bemused alien host. The mere thought made Talbot want to retch, but it was proving to be true.

  “Bury the heads,” he said quietly. “Then head back to camp. This could be a trap.”

  The Terrans filed back to camp in shocked silence. Someone got a large fire going and Talbot set a perimeter watch. He doubted Ashby would attack during the night. The alien would need to commit the majority of his troops for what would be an uncertain, chaotic battle. No, Ashby would wait until Talbot was on the move again before striking.

  Talbot crouched low and stared into the flickering flames of the central bonfire. He knew what he had to do. Mentally, it would be the hardest option to take, but there was now no doubt in his mind.

  “Wilkes,” he barked into the darkness.

  The other soldiers, perhaps noticing his distant, ponderous mood, had left a ring of space around him. Talbot realized he didn’t really care what they thought any more. Wilkes appeared from the sea of faces.

  “Sir?”

  “Turn this camp into a base. Palisades. Walls. Tunnels. The works. I want every resource thrown at it. We need to survive here till the end.”

  Wilkes regarded Talbot with wide eyes.

  “Sir … the beacons …”

  “… will remain in Irian hands. Don’t you see? Ashby wants us on the move. He’ll pick us off one by one while he runs rings around us. There’s no way we can take more than three or four beacons at a time. Not with the personnel we have. Shit, Ashby’s probably heading to the island right now.”

  Wilkes looked crestfallen, but only because he was smart enough to see the truth of Talbot’s words.

  “Give me a base,” Talbot repeated. “Ashby won’t expect it, which means we’ll have wrong-footed him for the first time. Let’s dig ourselves in. Survive the last day with minimal losses. Most importantly, level up our engineers as much as possible before the second planet. With any luck we can bring specializations that can help us. We need to concede Regal as a loss. It’s the smart play.”

  “Yes,” Wilkes said, deep in thought. “Yes, I think you’re right, Major.”

  Fielding noticed the intense conversation and approached the pair.

  “You have your orders, Wilkes,” Talbot said quietly.

  The commando saluted and began organizing the troops. It would take a supreme effort to begin constructing a base at the end of such a long day, but these soldiers were a hard-working bunch. Plus, they were riding the momentum of leveling up throughout the afternoon.

  “What’s going on, John?” Fielding asked with a frown.

  “We’re digging in,” Talbot said flatly. “Regal is lost. How does the saying go? There’s no point throwing good money after bad.”

  “I disagree, sir,” Fielding said, becoming formal again. “We’ve been defending ourselves since we spawned. We need to spend the night crafting unique weapons. Then we strike the Irians hard.”

  Talbot shook his head. “Ashby knows every choke point on the island by now. He’d love for us to waltz into one of his traps.”

  “You think you have all the answers, don’t you?” Fielding asked angrily. “Perhaps if it was up to me we might still have commandos on our side.”

  Talbot looked deep into his lover’s eyes. Then it dawned on him.

  “You don’t think I can do this,” he said quietly. “You think this gig should be yours.”

  Laura turned away. “It’s nothing, John. Really. A few of us might have adopted a more classical strategy, that’s all. You know, assault rifles in the vanguard, plenty of scouts providing cover, that kind of thing.”

  “And we might well have taken Regal,” Talbot admitted. “But what then? How would we have dealt with Ashby’s specialists when we reached the next planet? You only get so far with conventional thinking.”

  Fielding frowned, clearly disagreeing with Talbot but unwilling to widen the gulf between them.

  “You know, win or lose, I can’t wait to finish what we started on the Aurora, Talbot said.

  Fielding looked away again - it was a move that gave the him the creeps.

  “I won’t always be around, you know,” she said. “Your own personal meat locker.”

  And there it was. Talbot had let things fester for so long she no longer valued their relationship.

  “Things will be different,” Talbot found himself saying. “Win or lose, I’m done with the Terran Corps. Come with me. Some rundown, ramshackle property on Amaronn …”

  Talbot expected Laura to smile, but there was nothing luminous about those eyes.

  “I don’t want to quit, John,” she said. “My career is important to me.”

  Talbot sighed. Things were slipping away more quickly than expected. Had he been misreading her this whole time? The unpalatable truth was that he had probably imposed his own will on the poor girl. Abused the power dynamic of their relationship so often it was now crumbling in his hands. Too late to turn things around.

  With a sad smile, possibly a goodbye smile, Lieutenant Fielding went off to help Wilkes build a base. She seemed to feed off the commando’s energy. At that moment Talbot hated the Wilkes’s positivity, his sheer competence. A moment of lunacy, sure, but Talbot felt it keenly. He wasn’t even sure if Wilkes liked women. The reality was that Laura might be gone forever.

  “Major?”

  It was a flame-haired engineer, mousy and plain-looking but with sharp, curious eyes.

  “Private …?”

  “Harris, sir. Courtney Harris.”

  “What can I do for you, Harris?”

  “First of all, thanks for selecting me for this mission. It’s the best thing that ever -”

  “I need to see to the perimeter,” Talbot said, more rudely than he’d intended.

  “I’ll come with you,” came the enthusiastic reply.

  As they walked, Harris rambled on about Talbot’s “fearless” use of engineers. He sized her up - there were curves there, evident even under the navy fatigues.

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Harris,” he said, clutching her hand in the silence of the western perimeter. The shouts and grunts from the camp seemed a million miles away.

  “It’s been a long day,” he continued, reassuring her with his eyes. “Feel like a little downtime?”

  She grinned. Talbot immediately hated himself, but didn’t have the energy to care.

  Two hours later, with Harris sound asleep on a bed of pine needles, Talbot inspected the ever- changing camp. Wilkes had the troops digging trenches, clearing away the soft clay, erecting lateral palisades and producing mud bricks.

  “She gonna be impregnable, Wilkes?” Talbot asked amid the general cacophony.

  “As best as she can be, sir,” Wilkes answered with typical modesty. “We’ll have tunnels underneath for cooling, emergency ac
cess, storage and traps. I’ll have pit traps to all sides bar the south, our designated fall back. We’re building triple-tiered mud brick walls behind the pit traps. Take more than a fucking grenade to get through.”

  “Fair chance the Irians know what we’re up to,” Talbot said, glancing at the huge bonfires Wilkes had set up to maximize productivity.

  “Aye, sir. Might be an idea to bed down for the night and post double sentries. Base will be as good as finished with a couple of hours of dawn light.”

  “Agreed. Call the troops in. Have Fielding’s scouts take the first watch.”

  Talbot found sleep hard to come by. The thought of his recent coupling with Harris made him feel dirty. Why was he feeling so vulnerable? Now that he’d broken it off with Fielding, shouldn’t he be feeling better?

  Finding a suitable log, Talbot contented himself with watching the camp, nodding to the regular patrols as they marched past. The night took on a vaguely hallucinatory quality, the dead bonfires smoldering like vanquished ghosts.

  10

  Sleep must have come eventually, because Talbot woke with a start, his fatigues wet with dew. One look at the eastern sky told him dawn was less than an hour away.

  Wilkes was already producing bricks with a team of construction engineers. Talbot left them to it - he had a more pressing problem to take care of. He found Fielding close to one of the fire pits, her mat next to Wilkes’s. A cold fear gripped his heart.

  “You didn’t … I mean, last night …” Talbot found himself stammering.

  Laura’s eyes flashed with anger.

  “Stop talking and I won’t break your fucking nose.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  “Humanity,” Fielding said coldly. “Not even you’re immune, Major.”

  The use of military address indicated that he’d lost her. Forever. He forced out a smile but the truth was his heart was a lead weight. He needed to get to work before it dragged him down.

  Talbot paused by a water barrel. Private Sanger gave him a thumbs-up.

  “I can test the water now,” she said triumphantly. “We’re clear of contaminants and have a steady supply of water.”

  Talbot nodded and took a deep draught. That was a load off his mind. He called for Private Burdon, his best pilot.

  “Take the bird for a spin,” he said. “I wanna know what the Irians are doing further north.”

  Talbot helped Burdon remove the branches from the craft and clear a safe landing zone. Soldiers gathered on the edge of the clearing to watch the thopter sail into the brightening sapphire sky. Talbot was just turning back to camp when a loud whooshing spun him around.

  A rocket soared from the tree canopy and struck the thopter on its underside. The impact appeared to be negligible. Burdon was even able to get the thing back on course. But then the fuel cell ruptured in a fire plume that extended over twenty yards. The fragile craft spiraled out of sight like a dry leaf on an autumn breeze.

  A moment of shocked silence held everyone in thrall. Fielding pressed through the crowd.

  “We need to save her,” she said angrily.

  Talbot grabbed her arm roughly and held her back.

  “The Irians are all over her,” he snarled. “She’s dead, Fielding.”

  Laura jerked herself free and glared at Talbot.

  “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she said. “You’re a terrible leader.”

  Incensed, Talbot was about to reply when there was a commotion behind him.

  “Sir,” a returning patrolman gasped. “Major Carter and Private Brennan have returned.”

  Talbot froze, momentarily unable to formulate an appropriate answer. His tired, stressed mind suggested he kill them on the spot.

  “Help them into camp,” he said at length. “Lieutenant Fielding?”

  Laura moved off to tend to the returned soldiers. Carter was bloodied and disheveled, but otherwise OK. Private Brennan had been harpooned through the hip and was in a great deal of pain.

  “I did what I could,” Carter panted. “Damn Irians got us in the swamps to the north.”

  “Where you were skirmishing without leave,” Talbot said angrily. It annoyed him that there were so many smiles, as if these guys were lost heroes. They were deserters, plain and simple.

  Carter looked at Talbot with defiant eyes.

  “I disagreed with your strategy … sir.”

  “So you decided to make things up as you went along?” Talbot roared, his fury overwhelming him. “On the Aurora, desertion is punishable by gulag. No friends, no family, no prospects. I’m sure I can think of something worse in here.”

  Carter’s eyes flickered briefly, then he looked away.

  “Sir, we made a mistake,” he said quietly. “We endangered the whole enterprise. I realize that now.”

  “What would you have me do, Carter?” Talbot asked through gritted teeth.

  He took a step forward, bringing himself into Carter’s personal space. To his credit, the returned soldier didn’t step back, or even rock back on his heels.

  “Let the Corps deal with me,” Carter said, chin held high. “For the duration of this battle, I’m still your man, Major Talbot.”

  There were several murmurs of encouragement from the gathered soldiers. It made Talbot’s skin crawl. The man was a deserter. So what if he’d been trying to attack the enemy? He abandoned his comrades and needed to be punished. Severely. Otherwise Talbot was indulging in pure fantasy. In what dimension were deserters welcomed back into the fold with open arms?

  Talbot grabbed Carter by the scruff of the neck and dragged him over to the nearest palisade. The commando looked like he wanted to retaliate but couldn’t exactly do that now that he’d pledged his allegiance.

  “Stand against the palisade,” Talbot growled.

  Carter stood there scowling at Talbot while the older man snatched Private Brennan from Fielding’s ministrations.

  “Sir, I’m working on that man! You can’t -”

  “I fucking can,” Talbot replied petulantly, drawing his assault rifle and peppering the deserters with plasma charges. Their bodies shook with the violence of the attack before dropping limply to the mud.

  “Someone bury those bodies before they turn in the sun,” Talbot said, heading off to help Quantum. Judging from the shocked silence, his bold ploy had at least connected.

  The Virtual Army needed a shakeup and Talbot had just delivered the perfect rocket. Those commandos weren’t dead - they had been removed from the game. Carter would at that moment be hauling himself out of his Immersion tank and cursing the day Talbot was born.

  Major D Talbot didn’t give a shit. He needed to set a new standard. With any luck, the other soldiers would realize how loyal and professional they all were and act accordingly. That meant throwing themselves into the day with manic zeal.

  Talbot found Quantum hammering out a crude sword from his forge. It was no assault rifle, but might just be decent in a close quarters scrap with a slippery Irian.

  “I heard shots,” Quantum said, face glistening with sweat. “Hopefully we’re not being attacked?”

  “Internal discipline,” Talbot said curtly. “Listen, Quantum, we need these trenches laced with explosive now. Think your people can rig any?”

  Quantum frowned in concentration. “Only commandos have a demolitions specialization.”

  Talbot sighed and went to find Wilkes. The veteran was burying the bodies himself. He shot Talbot the look of a wounded animal.

  “This might be a game,” he muttered, “but I’ve never seen anything so callous.”

  “Yeah, well, these are desperate times,” Talbot said. “Cut the shit, Wilkes. Soldier to soldier, it had to be done. Right?”

  Wilkes paused, conflict etched on his face.

  “Right?” Talbot demanded.

  Wilkes’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I wouldn’t have done it that way, but yes, Talbot, something had to be done.”
r />   “So move on,” Talbot said harshly. “I need you to level up in demolitions. How far off are you?”

  “200XP, maybe less,” came the answer.

  “Then do it quickly,” Talbot said. “I want these tunnels set with plasma charges within the hour. How many do we have?”

  “Five,” came the answer.

  Talbot frowned. “It’ll have to do.”

  Soldiers were still milling around a little aimlessly, unsure of themselves.

  “Listen up!” Talbot barked. “Within hours we’ll be under attack. The Irians have made their intentions clear. From here on in we’re going to protect our most valuable asset - you. We need to make it through to nightfall with minimal casualties. The defensive structures we built yesterday will have to be enough. Bunker down near the central bonfire. Wilkes and I will provide perimeter fire with our assault rifles. We’ll try and draw the enemy through the tunnels, which will be laced with explosive. The scouts will occupy platforms high up in the trees. Lieutenant Fielding - how many of your troops have leveled in woodcraft?”

  “Two, sir,” said a sullen Fielding. She was clearly still angry with Talbot.

  “Then use the workbench to craft platforms.”

  Fielding nodded and left with her fourteen scouts. Talbot knew she’d form a sensible ring around the camp, providing excellent support fire.

  “As for the rest of you, use your plasma pistols as necessary, but watch they don’t overheat. Stay calm, stay focused, make sure of each shot. That’s all.”

  Quantum emerged to organize the engineers into defensive formations, his raspy voice cleaving the pristine dawn in two. Talbot went to ensure that Wilkes had leveled up. He had, and was already laying charges through the cross-tunnels under the camp.

  “At level two demolitions I could upgrade the charges at the workbench,” he said. “We’re officially out of circuitry, by the way.”

  “You’ve done well,” Talbot said. “Come with me to the northern perimeter. We’re on guard duty.”

  Wilkes grinned at that, a sign that the man was prepared to move on from the morning’s unpleasantness. The sign of a true professional.