Ghost Platoon

by Xavier P. Hunter

  With nothing but terrain to worry about for the moment, Reggie watched the wireframe of Artemis. June’s piloting was topnotch, but this Slapdash pilot was an ace gunner. June was gaining ground on her escape but not without paying a price. Time and again, the Slapdash Phoenix caught her with ballistic rounds. Even the two of them using Jump Boost liberally wasn’t enough to spoil the enemy pilot’s aim.

  “Sorry, Reggie!” June radioed.

  Reggie saw it just as the warning from June came over the radio. The enemy Phoenix had scored a hit to June’s right Jump Booster. Mid-air, she’d overbalanced, the mismatched thrust causing her to spiral out of control and pinwheel to a crash landing against a cliff face.

  It was one on one.

  The only factor Reggie had in his favor was how close June had lured the Slapdash pilot before getting taken out. Reggie had the Phoenix in range.

  [Phoenix[1] – 23% To Hit]

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Reggie complained to no one at all. There was no one left on comms to hear him gripe. It freed him to freely express the bullshit going on around him. He was a max level pilot, and even without specializing in Gunnery, he ought to be seeing better numbers than that.

  There was no time to waste lining up a better shot or stopping to steady his weapons. Reggie squeezed off two blasts of plasma that both missed.

  The Phoenix—surprisingly—returned fire instead of retreating. It backed away, still hopping on Jump Boost like the pilot had taken perks in it, keeping its frontal armor facing Reggie.

  [Phoenix[1] – 25% To Hit]

  Reggie held his fire. He waited for the Phoenix to get airborne. Despite the ability to maneuver in midair via the thrusters in its boots, the Phoenix was still more predictable in the air. Reggie fired again.

  One blast missed. The other jet of plasma caught the Phoenix in the boot, just as Reggie had seen the enemy pilot do to June.

  The opposing pilot must have been thinking along the same lines because he cut power to his Jump Boost instantly. The Phoenix crashed to the ground upright, but the damage to its legs meant it wasn’t going anywhere fast.

  Phoenix Left Leg: 5/20

  Phoenix Right Leg: 5/20

  It peppered Reggie with low-caliber rounds as he kept one of Vortex’s arms up to shield his cockpit from lucky crits like the one that had taken out Chase prematurely.

  Vortex stumbled and lurched as the Phoenix tried to damage Reggie’s legs. But it just ran out of time. Giving up on the Plasma Launcher, Reggie drew Vortex’s Ninjato and crashed into the Phoenix.

  It didn’t take long to finish off the downed scout.

  [Sole Objective Complete: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 5/5]

  WINNER: GHOST PLATOON.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Matches for Round Three:

  [Psychedelic Thugs (1) vs. Ghost Platoon (10)]

  [Lucky Outlaws (3) vs. Hard Target (4)]

  The matchup remained stationary on one of the screens at the bar back at Wounded Legion headquarters. Reggie had just sprung for a dozen more, turning the gloomy, pub-style atmosphere into a sports bar. Other screens showed replays of the day’s matches or highlights from throughout the tournament. A couple off in a corner carried real-world sports, but even as Reggie was glancing over, someone changed the channel to one more Ragnarok Showdown coverage.

  “Final Four,” Chase said with a satisfied sigh, joining the rest of Ghost Platoon at their private table. “Better than college basketball.”

  “Only because we’re in it, you ninny,” Frank replied.

  The bad blood and the insults hurled in the heat of the moment had boiled away once everyone returned from the battlefield. Competitive juices mixed poorly with stress. The resulting brew could poison a team, but victory was the antidote.

  “We’re up against Psychedelic Thugs,” Chase said. “Enjoy this feeling while it lasts. We’re out tomorrow.”

  “That bad?” June asked.

  “Nothing’s that bad,” Lin insisted, waggling her empty glass for a waiter to bring her another fruity concoction. “We can beat anyone.”

  “By luck,” Chase replied.

  “What happened to the diabolical mad scientist who came up with an artillery build for Frank?” Reggie asked with a smile.

  Chase’s face fell. “I nearly cost us that match. First, I get instagibbed. Then, my bright idea to put a 406mm gun on Gremlin instead of 380mm with enough weight left over for some close-range weapons… that was boneheaded.”

  “But it worked,” Reggie pointed out. “We’re way past worrying about style points. Ghost Platoon’s style is no style at all. If we’ve got to melee heavier jugs, we do it. If we all get slaughtered in the opening minutes and need to drop a mountainside to pull a win out of our asses, we do it. Every time we have a reason to give up and don’t take it, we buy ourselves another chance for luck to bail out our sorry asses.”

  Chase took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, we’re back to our base package. If anyone has objections or tricks they’ve enjoyed, consider them for the finals. If we make it that far, I’m open to anything.”

  Frank snorted. “I bet for the finals, they give us those pretty Valkyries to drive.”

  “Unlikely,” Chase replied dryly.

  “Why not?” Frank asked indignantly. “It’s the Valhalla West Ragnarok Showdown, isn’t it? We haven’t caught a sniff of the paint from one of those Valkyries yet, and the tournament’s practically over.”

  “They’re the prize. Duh,” Lin said.

  Gritting his teeth, Frank growled. “Fine. But I’m still betting we drive them suckers in the finals.”

  “Speaking of…” Chase said. “Some of us have to get some awake time between now and the next match.”

  Lin cast an apologetic glance in June’s direction. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” June said. “Not your fault I’m… dead.”

  Reggie hooked June by the arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and show these meat bags what they’re missing.”

  June blushed. “Or… not show them.” She allowed Reggie to lead her to the elevator and up to their suite.

  Once safely alone in the elevator car, Reggie slouched against the wall and deflated. “So many people. Everyone wants a piece of us.”

  As if he’s said some horror movie monster’s name three times, Reggie got a pop-up for an incoming message.

  “What now?” he muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Message coming through my filters,” he replied. “Can’t be anyone important. You’re right here.”

  June rolled her eyes at the sappy sentiment but grinned despite herself.

  With a sigh, Reggie checked.

  It was a rerouted communique via a Valhalla West intermediary. He frowned.

  “Who is it?”

  “Team captain for Psychedelic Thugs. Guy by the name of Bearclaw.”

  “Answer it,” June prompted.

  Reggie didn’t want to talk with anyone just then. He wanted to curl up in bed with June, maybe fool around a little, and definitely let his brain take a much-needed rest.

  He answered anyway. “King here.”

  “Sgt. King, my name is Ted Marshall. Thank you, Sergeant, for accepting my call.” The guy on the other end of the line sounded young but earnest.

  “Um, thanks, Ted. Good luck out there tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I just wanted to say, whatever the outcome, it’s going to be an honor competing against you out there. You’re an inspiration to a lot of us.”

  Reggie glanced over to June, who could hear both sides of the conversation. She caught Reggie’s eye when he looked over at her and shrugged in reply.

  The elevator doors opened, spilling June out into their quarters. “Hey, you guys have got one hell of a squad. Top seed and all that. Gonna give us all we can handle, maybe more.”

  June mouthed something, but Reggie couldn’t make out what. He covered the mic pickup on his tablet since he was pretty sur
e that’s where the voice calls connected. “What?”

  “Just wanted a chance to speak with you, Sergeant. Figured, even if we don’t win the whole thing, I’ll at least make the most of the opportunity while I have it. Can’t tell you what it means to us, having you as an example, putting yourself on the line and trying out experimental tech.”

  June whispered into Reggie’s ear. “These guys are some of Chase’s ringers. Find out who they are.”

  Reggie nodded to her. “Hey, Ted—hope you don’t mind me calling you Ted—do you work for Valhalla West by any chance?”

  An aw-shucks chuckle preceded Ted’s reply. “Nothing like that, Sgt. King. I’m a Firstie at West Point, same as the rest of the Psychedelic Thugs. Don’t mind the name. They picked it for us.”

  June’s mouth hung slack. Reggie stared back at her before continuing. “Cadet? You’re… still alive, I trust. Right?”

  Ted’s chuckle was nervous now. “Um. Yes, Sergeant. All alive. Just doing some gaming in the off hours. They say Armored Souls is good exercise for the tactical muscles.”

  “Are there other teams from West Point in this tournament? Or were there before eliminations?” Reggie pressed.

  “Sorry, Sergeant. I’m not liberty to say. You know how it is. I just convinced a kind tech at Valhalla to patch me through for a quick talk on the condition I didn’t say too much. Please, don’t get me wrong. Everything’s on the up and up, but it’s also hush hush. I don’t want neither of us getting in trouble over this.”

  “Wouldn’t hear of it, Ted. Have a good night, and best of luck come tomorrow.” Reggie saluted the tablet before ending the call.

  “Well… that explains a little,” June said. “The US Army is pushing gamers through West Point now.”

  “But what does it mean?” Reggie mused aloud.

  June started undoing the buttons of Reggie’s uniform shirt. “Not sure. But for now, it means we’re two minutes late for that bed over there.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Reggie had heard of the fog of war both in military and gaming contexts. This was his first time seeing the reality of that fog up close and personal and not the least bit metaphoric. Ghost Platoon had vanished from the Wounded Legion hangar only to appear at the edge of a fog-shrouded jungle, atop a modest rise in the terrain. Beyond 50 meters, the landscape was a mystery, so thick did the vaporous haze lay across the battlefield.

  “What do you think’s going on out there?” June asked.

  :30

  :29

  “Some West Point cadets are getting ready to kick our collective asses,” Reggie replied.

  :28

  “So, I was off a little on the ringers but not by much,” Chase replied. “We’re dealing with Valhalla West Point.”

  “Not funny,” Reggie shot back. Even though he’d never been an officer, he still held the school in high regard. Down to technical terms, that fourth-year cadet leading Psychedelic Thugs outranked him. Though on more technical terms, Reggie’s rank was posthumous.

  :24

  :23

  “Fine. Sorry. But my theory holds water if those other ringer teams that joined at the same time are army too,” Chase replied. “Hard Target’s been around as part of Neptune Clan for a while, but Lucky Outlaws are probably Teddy boy’s classmates.”

  :19

  :18

  “Show a little respect,” June snapped. “That cadet you’re referring to is a year away from putting a bar on his uniform and defending your right to sit behind a desk and keyboard for a living.”

  :13

  :12

  “Does it make a difference in how we fight them?” Lin asked.

  “Maybe,” Reggie replied. “But if this battle is in a fog, it’s a crapshoot anyway.”

  :08

  “Got it. Crapshoot,” Lin replied.

  :07

  “You know what I mean!”

  :06

  :05

  :04

  “Nerves,” June said. “Get over them. Pronto.”

  No one questioned June on the subject. If she could adapt to being a ghost like the two others in her platoon who’d had years’ experience on the subject, the rest of them could suck it up and deal with the fact that they were facing a platoon of army cadets.

  What they meant, Reggie had no idea. It wasn’t the 1950s anymore. Warfare was more technical than ever. A soldier was more than just a pair of legs to haul a rifle across foreign soil. Bravery, resolve, and toughness were the entrance fee to military life, not the meat and potatoes of service. A modern soldier practically needed a technical degree to operate his kit. Was it so strange to think that West Point was herding cadets through an immersive VR game they could play in their sleep?

  Don’t mind the name. They picked it for us.

  Those words stuck in Reggie’s mind. Who picked that name? Why? It was certainly entirely unlike the army Reggie knew but fit just fine for Army Intelligence. What better way to disguise a covert insertion of gamers into a long-established community than to make them sound like hardcore dweebs or basement-dwelling shut-ins. That was the stigma Reggie had needed to overcome to consider himself a gamer again. Maybe some black site research team was thinking along the same lines.

  :03

  :02

  No time for mysteries. There was a battle to win.

  :01

  “Semifinal battle number one! Fight!” the announcer boomed.

  [Sole Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 0/5]

  A wind whipped, and the fog vanished like a magician’s tablecloth pulled back with an expert tug. Spread out before Ghost Platoon was a verdant carpet comprised of lush jungle treetops. It was the sort of place that Indiana Jones would delve for treasures or where the Rebel Alliance would build a moon base.

  “No sightseeing!” Reggie barked. He only thought of accusing the others because he was tempted as well.

  “Got something,” June radioed. “Stone structures, tons of them, clustered at the center of the map.”

  Rather than ask for details, Reggie watched as his tactical map updated per June’s observations. The stone buildings arranged themselves at the heart of the arena in a primitive city. No, there was something familiar about this arrangement.

  “Chichen Itza,” Chase said. “Or something close. I think it’s just slightly possible that Valhalla West might have made its first Earth map for this tournament.”

  “Nah,” Lin said. “I’ve been. My parents took me when I was in high school. It’s just the same style. Cool as shit, though.”

  “Can we make use of that?” Reggie asked.

  “Just that it’s the only non-flammable terrain on the whole map,” June said. “If we don’t light this jungle on fire, the cadets will have to.”

  “Move out!” Reggie ordered. “Stay in formation. June, you’re on point. The sooner we exit the jungle, the sooner we can lay claim to the defensive positions in that city.”

  “Temple complex,” Lin corrected.

  “Why am I the only one who doesn’t have an intimate background in Aztec ruins?” Reggie wanted to know.

  “Mayan,” Chase corrected.

  “I haven’t got a clue,” Frank chimed in. “If that’s any help.”

  It shouldn’t have been a comfort, but it kind of was. Reggie was at least not alone in his ignorance of ancient jungle cultures.

  Ghost Platoon crashed through the jungle, battering down trees that got in their way. The jungle swallowed them whole. It was only by the grace of June’s mapping scanners that they had a heading or a destination.

  “What are the odds that the Thugs have a lock on this temple complex?” Chase asked. “Maybe we can get the jump on them by lighting the jungle now. Or… we can time it so that we just make it to the clearing in time. That might be a better option. Not sure Frank can outrun a spreading wildfire.”

  “I ain’t getting slowed up by these glorified saplings,” Frank shot back.

  Reggie tried to think ahead. What
would he do in their place? How could he counter that? Knowing Ghost Platoon’s composition, Psychedelic Thugs would know that Frank was in a Tiger. They’d realize that if they could beat Gremlin’s 35-kph top speed, they’d be the first ones out of the jungle. If Ghost Platoon spread out and left Frank behind, that would be even better.

  “They’re going to light the jungle,” Reggie blurted. “It’s the only move that makes sense. We’ve got the slowest juggernaut out of the ten in this battle. They’re going to use that against us.”

  “Frank, trip your overrides,” Chase ordered. “Disconnect the over-rev protection on—”

  “I know that!” Frank barked. “Let me be.”

  The engine whine from Gremlin rose, and the Tiger accelerated slightly. It wasn’t much. Another three and a half kilometers per hour was all disabling the rev limiter gave them. “Just don’t forget to shut it off,” Reggie warned.

  TARGET DATA ACQUIRED.

  “What?” Reggie exclaimed.

  “Caught a scout spying on us,” June replied. “We’re all spotted.”

  Lin fired off a round at the Phoenix that June had picked up on scanners, but her Anti-Matter round went wide, tearing holes in two trees in the process.

  “Keep going,” Reggie ordered. “No time to figure out how they located us.”

  “I think I know,” Chase replied. “Jump Boost. They got that Phoenix above the tree line and watched the path of destruction.”

  Shit, Reggie swore silently. He couldn’t afford to be a step behind these guys. This was a matter of victory and defeat lying a hairsbreadth apart. Even the slightest misstep could be the play that costs them the match.