Cheatc0de

by Mikey Campling

  But someone is calling his name. Somewhere, far away, a man is yelling at him, urging him to do something. And there’s something strange about the man’s voice: a weird accent. English maybe. Jamie! Kilgore’s eyes fly open. Sleep claws at his thoughts: soft, cloying, comfortable sleep. But he struggles against it, kicks it in the teeth. He needs to focus, to clear his mind of everything but one vital command: AIPR0N, deactivate shield.

  His HUD responds. Thank god. It’s done, and already, his energy levels are stabilizing. But he can’t rest and wait for them to rise. He must act now. It’s too late to do anything for Dale, but he can do his damnedest to help Jamie—shield or no shield. Kilgore stays kneeling, but he plants his foot firmly at the corner of the building. He pushes his shoulders back and fills his lungs, then he holds his weapon ready and leans out to face the enemy.

  For the moment, he’s relatively safe. No one is shooting in his direction, so the GDL must think their RPG neutralized the threat from that side of the yard. But when Kilgore sees the enormity of what he has to do, he murmurs, “God help me.” It’s not much of a prayer, but for the first time in a long time, he means every word.

  Jamie has taken up Dale’s position behind the shed. As Kilgore watches, Jamie swings into action, leaning his upper body out around the corner and aiming his rifle in one practiced motion. Without hesitation, he fires a three-shot burst then ducks back into safety as a hail of bullets slams into the shed, knocking chunks of concrete from the wall. It was a brave move, and well executed, but it had little effect.

  In front of the barracks, at least a dozen soldiers have spread out, some lying on their bellies to fire, others taking a knee. But the sight that crushes Kilgore’s courage and freezes the blood in his veins is the low wall of sandbags, arranged in a shallow U-shape to the right of the barracks. It definitely wasn’t there before, and there’s no way they’ve had time to build it. It can only be a defensive wall. The GDL must’ve deployed it remotely from the safety of the barracks.

  Kilgore grimaces. From what he’s seen in the armory, the GDL have damned good gear. Their defensive wall will be the best money can buy. There’s no way he and Jamie have the firepower to take the damned thing down, and it’s protecting at least five soldiers. The GDL soldiers can fire over the sandbags easily, but even if Jamie is a fully trained sniper, he’ll have difficulty picking them off. And because of the shape of the wall, Kilgore has no advantage from his position. Unless...

  Kilgore thinks back to the first time he met Will, when they were pinned down behind a wall. Yes, Will used percussion mines to disorient the GDL, but then he went into overdrive, taking the soldiers down in record time. He moved like a machine: incredibly slick, impossibly accurate. Could that have been AIPR0N helping him out?

  Kilgore lets AIPR0N’s interface come to mind. AIPR0N, view targeting menu. And he immediately understands the options open to him; they surface in his mind like a memory. Select enhanced targeting. He sights along the barrel of his shotgun. Calibrate. Deploy.

  Suddenly, Kilgore’s hands take control of his weapon. He aims, fires, works the pump action, and moves onto the next target. He fires all six shots then slides back behind the corner. As he reloads with six fresh slugs, a barrage of bullets rains down on the building behind him. But he doesn’t care about that. He’s just taken out all five soldiers behind the wall and nailed one of the shooters in the yard through his leg. It’s too bad about the guys behind the wall; he had no option but to aim at their heads. There’s always a chance their helmets saved their lives, but he can’t think about that. Not now.

  He completes the reload, and this time he stands up before leaning around the corner to fire. Again, his aim is perfect, and every shot lands true. As he fires, he notices a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Jamie is making a dash for it. Kilgore ducks back behind the corner and leans his shotgun against the wall, swapping it for Dale’s assault rifle. He sets the switch on Dale’s weapon to single shot then lifts the rifle to his shoulder so he can sight along the barrel. Enhanced targeting. Calibrate. Deploy. The thoughts come automatically. He leans out once more and fires until the magazine is empty, picking off GDL troops as easily as he might squash bugs beneath his feet. Jamie is at least halfway across the yard now, and there’s only sporadic fire from the few remaining GDL that are fit to fight. Some men have abandoned their positions to drag wounded men to safety, and Kilgore makes sure he leaves them alone.

  It’s good progress, but Jamie isn’t safe yet and Kilgore needs to reload. He steps back and drops the rifle. There’s almost certainly more ammo in Dale’s vest, but that would mean rolling the man’s body over and going through his pockets. Instead, Kilgore grabs his shotgun and takes a handful of shells from his vest. He presses them home: one in the chamber, five in the magazine. There isn’t time to recalibrate. He leans out and takes aim, but before Kilgore can fire a single shot, Jamie tumbles, crying out in pain. He hits the ground, landing heavily on his front. But although Jamie’s down, he isn’t out. He rolls onto his belly and turns so he’s facing the barracks, his rifle extended in front of him. He fires, targeting the few soldiers kneeling next to the defensive wall. One GDL soldier goes down, and the rest scatter, dashing for the safety of the sandbags.

  Kilgore hesitates. If he takes out the rest of the GDL, it will be safe to help Jamie, but by then, it could be too late. Jamie’s pinned down, wounded, trapped on open ground. “Shit!” Kilgore hisses. “What do I do?”

  A few hours ago, he wouldn’t have asked himself that question; he played solo, and that was that. But Dale and Jamie trusted him. They risked their lives, the only thing they possessed, in the hope that together, they could overcome the odds. And Kilgore cannot betray their trust. He cannot let them down.

  “Hold on, Jamie,” he growls. “I’m coming to get you.”

  He dashes into the yard, aiming his shotgun at an angle across his body so he can fire on the GDL while running toward Jamie. He lets loose with four shots, and his slugs do their job, giving the GDL a damned good reason to keep their heads down. He reaches Jamie in seconds and kneels down next to him then turns to fire his remaining two shots toward the barracks.

  “Come on, Jamie!” he yells. “Take my arm.”

  “Wait. You reload first,” Jamie says. “I’ll cover you.” He fires off a burst of three shots, and for once, Kilgore does as he’s told.

  “That’s it, Jamie. Now move!”

  Kilgore keeps his gun trained on the defensive wall as Jamie grabs onto his arm and pulls himself up. They stand up together.

  “Keep the bastards down,” Jamie says. “I’m going to be slow. They hit my bloody leg.”

  Kilgore fires a couple shots while Jamie adjusts his grip on Kilgore’s shoulder, then the two men back away together, Jamie hobbling along at Kilgore’s side. Every few steps, Kilgore lets fly with another shot, and when he’s out of ammo, Jamie takes over, holding his rifle with one hand and firing a burst toward the wall. His shots go wide, but it helps to keep the GDL in check.

  Kilgore pushes on across the yard, almost dragging Jamie along. “Come on,” he urges. The safety of the building is only a few feet away now.

  “Grenade!” Jamie yells.

  Kilgore turns in time to see the dark shape bouncing across the concrete toward them. He wraps his arms around Jamie, holds him tight, and lets the AIPR0N shield commands flash across his mind. The shield has got to cover Jamie too—it has to. He just prays his energy levels are high enough to sustain it.

  AIPR0N SHIELD ACTIVATED: LEVEL NINE

  The grenade explodes in a bewildering confusion of heat and light. The noise at this range is deafening, and Kilgore braces himself for the inevitable shock wave. But once again, the shield proves its worth, and Kilgore bares his teeth in a savage grin. He’s invincible, unstoppable.

  “I did it, Jamie. We’re almost there. We’re safe.”

  But Jamie doesn’t respond. Kilgore looks down, and the exhilaration of surviving the grena
de quickly fades away. Jamie’s head is lolling against his chest, his whole body limp. Only Kilgore’s tight grip is keeping the man from sliding to the ground. As Kilgore stares in horror, Jamie’s rifle falls from his fingers and clatters onto the yard. It seems the shield doesn’t work that way after all.

  “Aw, shit!” Kilgore growls. He adjusts his grip and lifts Jamie until his feet are off the ground, then he dashes back toward the building. A few shots ring out across the yard, but they’re too late. The two men have made it safely around the corner.

  Kilgore pauses for a second to deactivate the shield, then he hoists Jamie up and over his shoulder. He’s not sure if the Englishman is dead or unconscious, but this isn’t the place to find out. He takes a deep breath then starts walking, heading east. He has to put as much distance as he can between him and the barracks. The GDL are depleted and demoralized, but they could still call up reinforcements and come after him. It’s vital he gets Jamie to safety, preferably indoors, but he doesn’t know the layout here, and he hasn’t got time for trial and error.

  “Goddammit,” Kilgore mutters. He has no choice but to call up Will and ask for help. He keeps walking as he opens his voice channel. “Will, I’ve cleared the barracks. Where the hell is this door I’m supposed to go through? I can’t see it.”

  “Jesus, kid! You did it? I was wondering... it’s been a long time.”

  Kilgore curls his lip. “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “Sure. Sure. You’re OK though? The nanobots worked?”

  “I haven’t got time to talk, Will. Just tell me where the damned door is.”

  “OK, you’re still heading east right?”

  “Yeah,” Kilgore says. “That’s all I know.”

  “Good. There’s a wall on your right. Once you’re clear of it, look down to the south. You should see a building.”

  Kilgore turns his head. “Jesus, Will, there are buildings all over the place. They all look the damn same.”

  There’s a gentle hiss in Kilgore’s earpiece as Will takes a breath. “Calm down, kid. You’re almost there. This building is a little taller than the rest, and it’s very wide. You can’t miss it.”

  Kilgore stops walking. He’s only just clear of the wall on his right, but his energy levels are still low and Jamie is starting to get heavy. He turns to face south and takes a moment to scan the buildings in the distance. “OK, I think I see it.”

  “Good. Head for that building, and locate a large red door. Use the C4 to blow it. You should use the shield to protect you from the shock wave. Once you’re in, move fast. There’ll be GDL patrols inside. Take them out as quickly as you can. Now listen, the layout of the place can seem confusing, but it’s just a simple grid. There’s a wide central corridor—that’s the main route through the building. There are two other corridors that run parallel to the main one, with five smaller corridors connecting them at right angles. You’re going to head south on the main corridor and take the last turn on your right. Follow the numbers until you find a room labeled zero, zero, one. Got it?”

  “Got it. Red door. Corridor south. Right turn. Zero, zero, one.”

  “When you get to the room, use your HUD to find the access panel, then use AIPR0N to hack the lock. The key is inside.” There’s a pause. Kilgore imagines Will licking his lips. “Listen, kid. I want you to keep the voice channel open so—”

  “No way, asshole,” Kilgore says and cuts him off. I’m done with you, you slimy son of a bitch. The thought of the man sends a shudder up Kilgore’s spine. Unlike Dale and Jamie, Will has everything anybody could ever want, but he risks nothing, believes in nothing. “He can’t touch me now,” Kilgore says. Despite his best efforts, Will let something slip: He told Kilgore he needs AIPR0N to get through the door, so there’s no way Will can take his mod back now—not if he wants that key. And Will wants that key very badly. Even across the crackly voice channel he can hear the greed in Will’s voice.

  Kilgore renews his grip on Jamie and marches toward the taller building. He has to get under cover and fast. If the GDL troops pursue him, he’ll be helpless as long as he’s carrying Jamie, and leaving him behind is not an option.

  “Come on, Jamie,” he mutters. “Let’s get you inside and fix you up.” And then we’ll see, he thinks. Then we’ll see what we can come up with.

  CHAPTER 22

  Some Bullshit Trick

  WILL STANDS ALONE, staring into space, and thinking hard. He’s done all he can to help him, but the kid is severely stretching the limits of his patience. It sounds, from the way he talks, like the youngster has suddenly grown a pair. Maybe I pushed him too far, too fast. Will closes his eyes for a moment, trying to picture the point where he might’ve gone wrong. It’s important to learn, to improve and tweak the system. He needs to get it right next time. The game keeps getting harder and harder, the sequence of events longer, more complex. The GDL troops aren’t completely stupid. Eventually, they’ll realize what’s going on and who’s behind it. Then he’ll be finished.

  He shakes his head in sadness. This kid has gone as far as he’s going to get. It’s a shame. He thought this one was different. He was younger than the others, his mind more flexible. He wasn’t bound by old-fashioned military values and ways of thinking. Not like the last few he sent. They all had great combat credentials on the surface, but they let him down as soon as they figured out about the GDL. Why? Seriously, what the hell does it matter? There are always casualties in a war. If you want to take something, whether it’s oil or territory or a tactical objective, you have to wipe out anyone who stands in your way. That’s just the way it is.

  Will opens his eyes and turns to face east. There’s still a chance Kilgore will bring the key back out through the minefield. It’s a slim chance, but it’s there, and he needs to allow for the possibility. Every scenario must be explored, every error eliminated.

  He runs his hand across his mouth. If the kid does show up, he’ll probably try some bullshit trick or other. Maybe he’ll try and log off, or he’ll demand more money. Something like that. If he can meet the kid sooner than he expects, he can catch him on the back foot and turn the situation to his advantage. Yes. It’s time for action.

  Will slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and starts walking toward the minefield.

  CHAPTER 23

  White Noise

  A BURST OF STATIC SURGES IN MERVIN’S EARPIECE, and he waits patiently for it to fade away. When Paul comes back on the line, his voice is strained as though he’s struggling to make himself heard, and there’s a rumble of muffled shouts in the background.

  “Sorry about that, Merv. Damned comm link’s on the fritz.”

  “That’s OK, Paul. But what’s going on?”

  There’s a pause. Only for half a second, but it sets Mervin’s teeth on edge.

  “It’s a bad day, Merv. We lost a lot of good people today.”

  “Lost?” The blood drains from Mervin’s face. An image of the War Room flashes into his mind: the rows of empty chairs. “What happened?”

  “To tell you the truth, Merv, we’re still piecing it together. Seems like somebody’s breaking the rules. Maybe some kind of breach—we’re just not sure.”

  “I understand,” Mervin says. Unlike the so-called officers in the real world, Paul could be trusted not to leave the troops in the dark, and he’d never send them on wild goose chase. If he says he doesn’t know what’s happened, then that’s good enough for Mervin.

  “Thanks, Merv, you’re a good man. I’m taking a detail out to see what the situation is.”

  Mervin’s chest swells with pride. “I’m ready. Where do you want me?”

  “Sorry, Merv. I already picked out the detail, and we’re on our way. But I’m glad you showed up. I need someone I can rely on to play backstop today. OK?”

  Mervin rolls his eyes. Paul’s too kind to say it, but what he means is that the younger guys are champing at the bit, all guts and glory. “OK, Paul. What do you need?”
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br />   “Thanks, Merv. I had to pull a lot of guys off security detail. I really need someone to stay in Central One and do the routine patrol duty.”

  “OK, you got it. You guys go on and have fun. I could use some peace and quiet anyways.” Mervin smiles. The Central One detail is a running joke. If someone’s not on top of their game, the other guys will suggest it’s time they ask for a permanent transfer to the Central One patrol. Mervin’s even said it himself, though always with a smile. Still, it seems that someone always has to do the job, though nobody’s sure why. Central One is a high-value asset, but as far as Mervin knows, no player has ever made it anywhere near the building. The whole Command Center area is locked down tight. But if Paul is right and someone’s determined to cause trouble, they need to cover all the bases. “Keep in touch, all right?” he adds. “Let me know what’s going on.”

  “Sure. Thanks again, man,” Paul says. “Appreciate it. I’ll be in touch later. And, Merv—”

  Another surge of static blasts across the comm link and drowns out Paul’s voice. Mervin frowns. What the hell’s going on out there?

  Paul comes back on the line, in mid-sentence, “—and make sure you report back right away.”

  “Say again,” Mervin says. “You’re breaking up. I didn’t get that, Paul. Repeat your last.”

  But there’s nothing on a comm link. Just a wash of white noise. “Oh well,” Mervin says. “It’s not like I need telling what to do.” He makes for the gear room door and lets himself out into corridor. The gear room is inside the fortified bunker they call Central One, so Mervin can start straightaway. It’s a shame in some ways. Usually, he goes over to the barracks to see who’s around and check out what missions are coming up. But he has a duty to perform, so he may as well get on with it.

  He closes the gear room door behind him and makes sure it’s locked, then he takes a deep breath and starts walking. Nothing to do now but hit the checkpoints and patrol the corridors in between. That’s all there is to it. He hums a little tune to himself as he walks. Actually, this is just what I need right now. He wouldn’t like to admit in front of the guys, but there is something soothing about pacing along the almost identical corridors: something meditative. He has to maintain a certain level of readiness, so he can’t let his mind wander too far from the here and now, but he can relax into the routine, secure in the knowledge that nothing is going to disturb him. Nothing at all.