Wounded Legion_a mech LitRPG novel

by Xavier P. Hunter

  But Reggie had done those one better. Until recently, the atlas of Star League space had mattered as much as a subway map to a country farmhand. With the advent of Wounded Legion’s expansion, the galactic survey had turned into a shopping list.

  So Reggie had splurged.

  It had tapped out the legion’s funds, but they now had a full tactical and strategy room. The map that came with it was holographic and took up most of the room. It projected out of a table in the center of the circular chamber and blossomed out over the heads of the planners gathered around it.

  “We need a grand strategy,” June announced to the spectators gathered. Everyone from Wounded Legion was there, gawking up at the Almajara Galaxy, fictional home of the Star League and everyone in it—including them. The only one not present was Frank, who claimed he had better things to do than watch a television program that didn’t move.

  “What’s a grand strategy?” Nordbrook asked. “We getting noble titles or something?”

  Reggie stepped in to explain. “Grand strategy is beyond just tactics and battlefields. It’s about the kind of victory we want to pursue and the means to achieve it. Do we want to make alliances and join a league of like-minded factions? Do we want to take a small amount of territory and turn it into an unassailable fortress? Do we want to work behind the scenes to fracture large factions and pick at their bones? Do we want to overthrow the entire Star League?”

  “Um, no?” Chase suggested. “How about we don’t try to fight the admin faction?”

  “I’m just giving examples,” Reggie continued. “My vision for Wounded Legion is continuous, steady expansion. Right now, we’re in a fairly backwater region of space. Eventually, we’re going to rock someone’s boat and either take a target they were interested in or just end up attacking them directly.”

  “Well, it’s a PvP game,” Ellie said, leaning against the projector and gazing up hungrily at the galaxy. “Can’t make an omelet without stomping down a few renegade eggs.”

  “My goal is for you to become partners in our conquests and expansion,” Reggie said. “I’m emailing you a short list of planets and non-planetary holdings. I want you each to study them and come up with a plan to take over at least one. I don’t care how you plan it; just try to make the best plan you can with the resources we have available. You’re free to use this room to help visualize your strategies.”

  “Can we use asymmetric warfare?” Chase asked with a gleam in his eye.

  Reggie sighed. “Yes, but no breaking the game rules. Spying, feints, covert ops… all fine. I don’t want any messages from the admins informing me that I’ve got troops who’ve been banned for hacking, out-of-game threats, or exploits.”

  Chase headed for the door immediately, pausing only long enough to call back to his faction mates. “I’m putting up 1,000 credits that it’s my plan we run first. Who’s in?”

  A thousand credits was fantasy football money, nothing to cause faction strife over. Reggie let the intra-faction gambling pass as everyone else but June—and Frank, who wasn’t there—agreed to chip in.

  When it was just June and Reggie left, she slipped an arm around his waist. “That went well.”

  Reggie let out a long breath. “Yeah. Surprisingly well. I was worried I might not be cut out for officer work. Commanding a mission’s a lot different from leading a whole army. Especially when you have to decide where to aim it.”

  “You could use to blow off a little steam,” June suggested, pressing in closer against Reggie’s side.

  She wasn’t pretending to be subtle, just tactful. How could Reggie explain just how weird he found the idea of sex in a digital body? Even the few times he’d given in, he found himself wondering if his body, back in the real world somewhere, was reacting as well. The disconnect of mind and body came to the fore at times like that, when all he wanted was to lose himself in the world of Armored Souls.

  Reggie nodded as if she’d made a startling revelation. “Right. I should go round up Frank and see if he’s up for some nine-ball. Unless you wanted to play, that is,” he added hastily.

  June slid away and headed for the door. “No. You and Frank have fun.”

  For a moment, Reggie stood there, wondering whether he ought to do something noble and romantic. He just didn’t have it in him. Armored Souls had all the functionality; Reggie just didn’t want to turn his only refuge from reality into a soap opera. If only he could just tell her that and stop her occasional hints that he ought to make it more than that, everything would be perfect.

  Before long, Reggie was browsing star systems like a kid with a birthday gift card, just wondering what he should get with it. The whole galaxy was there for the taking. Sure, something like 40 percent of it was owned by either player or NPC factions, but that left a whole lot of in between to conquer before he stepped on his first set of toes.

  Then he remembered Frank. He truly was interested in what the old bugger was up to in the machine shop. On the way there, Reggie took stock of his base’s facilities, grinning like a fool.

  [Hangar - 10 Bays]

  [Landing Zone - 2 Pads]

  [Communal Barracks - 5 Beds]

  [Individual Quarters - 5]

  [Rec Room - Standard]

  [Map Room - Standard]

  [Armory - Basic]

  [Machine Shop - Basic]

  He found Frank hard at work on some futuristic piece of fabricating equipment, sparks flying and steel shrieking as it was forced into new shapes by drills and grinding wheels.

  “Frank!” Reggie shouted over the din. “FRANK!”

  The grinding died away, and Frank flipped up a welder’s mask. “Hey, Reggie-my-boy! How’s the wife and kids?”

  “What’re you making?”

  Frank stepped aside and swept a hand like a maître d’ showing a guest to his table. “Whaddaya think?”

  It was a sword. A huge sword. A sword big enough for a heavy juggernaut to wield.

  “I thought the crafting system in this game sucked,” was all he could think to say. The weapon was remarkably large seen up close, wider than Reggie’s torso and as thick as his leg.

  Frank grunted. “Says who? Them yappy dogs that talk about the game instead of playing it? Too much work. Too few options,” he mimicked what could only have been Frank’s image of a forum troll, holding up his hand effeminately and waggling them. “Bah! Namby pamby roller-chair pilots don’t know how to roll up their sleeves and put in an honest day’s work. I’m hand crafting my own sword like the ancient Iroquois used to, back in the day. King Tut himself carried an Iroquois sword into battle at the Nile. Mine’s gonna be big enough to swat aside whole gaggles of Spartan spearmen—not that I expect to find any, mind you. Spartans went extinct some time last Ice Age, along with them little squirrel fellas.”

  Reggie chose to ignore most of the babbling and focus on the sword under construction. “What’s gonna be the difference between this one and Gremlin’s old sword?”

  Frank snickered. “My luck? Probably nothing. Might even make it worse. But I’ll keep at it. If it comes out like a duck-billed boomerang, I’ll just melt it down and start over. Practice makes perfect.”

  “Well, best of luck with that. Hey. I came to see if you were interested in some pool.”

  “Nine-ball?” Frank asked hopefully.

  “Unless you’d rather take an assignment picking the legion’s next conquest…”

  Frank scratched at his chin. “Nah. I’ll leave the generaling to you. I’m just here to smash things with a sword.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  [Primary Objective: Sabotage Hydroelectric Dam]

  [Secondary Objective: Evacuate Before Hostile Forces Arrive]

  Getting back to regular missions was a shift of gears for Reggie and Wounded Legion. They didn’t have a new objective yet for faction growth, and Reggie didn’t want to hold them all hostage until someone had a solid plan. Instead, they were here on Minos Urasa, doing the dirty work that The Cumulus Imp
erium didn’t want to take on themselves.

  “Just to be clear,” Reggie radioed as he led the division out of the drop ship and into the moon’s forest. “We are intentionally failing the secondary objective. We take out the dam, and we dig in. This mission is popcorn without the butter and salt if we just blast and run. We need money and salvage, not what Cumulus Imperium is offering for this job.”

  “You mean someone’s going to see me in this thing?” Rich asked. “I feel like a total tool.”

  “First off, that’s my juggernaut you’re borrowing,” Reggie radioed back.

  “Yup,” Chase added quickly. “And he looks like a tool every time he pilots it, so suck it up and pay for insurance from now on.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rich replied glumly. “But couldn’t I have changed the colors, at least?”

  Lin chuckled. “Aw, cyber tough guy can’t take looking like a flower?”

  Daisy2 had the same paint scheme as the original. He’d bought it on impulse, missing simple scouting missions, and couldn’t bring himself to sell it off again.

  “2,500m to the dam,” June reported, cutting through the chatter.

  Mini gunfire sounded off to Reggie’s left. “Who’s doing that?” But he already knew. There were only two juggernauts in the division carrying the fast-firing, low-caliber ballistic weapons, and Rich was off to the right in the formation.

  “Thought I saw something in the trees,” Harper replied. It was a sorry excuse. His scanners were good enough that unless this moon had ten-meter-tall stealth velociraptors, there was nothing that could both hide and pose a threat to them on this moon.

  A gurgle in Reggie’s stomach signaled his worry that there might be something the intel reports missed. Armored Souls loved the whole “unreliable intel” shtick.

  For all his misgivings and trigger-happy troops, Wounded Legion arrived at the hydroelectric dam without incident. It was at the edge of a lake where it poured into a ravine. The division stopped at the ridgeline with firing lines down over the lip.

  “Fire at will,” Reggie ordered.

  Hydroelectric Dam: 893/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 890/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 889/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 871/900

  With the whole faction raining destruction, the reinforced concrete structure chipped and cracked. Spouts of water gushed from high-penetration shots from Lin’s Anti-Matter Projector.

  At the edge of the dam, Frank walked Gremlin up and tried out his new swords.

  Hydroelectric Dam: 850/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 829/900

  “Holy crap, dude,” Nordbrook exclaimed. “Nice swords!”

  Frank’s chuckle came over the radio like wheezy static. “Came out nice on the fifth try. One measly point of damage more than a regular sword. Almost makes a fella wish he’d spent his time fishing. Not me, of course, but some other fella who prefers burnt trout over busting out a case of chewing gum and kicking some ass.”

  “When you going to make some gear for the rest of us?” Harper asked. “A minigun with a little oomph might make keeping this little rodent of mine a while longer.”

  “Couldn’t say,” Frank replied as everyone continued pummeling the dam. “Swords are pretty damned simple. Lots of tubes and fidgety little bits in a gun.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Rich said. “Alpha Platoon’s going to get everything first. We’ll get dregs once Frank’s bored of manufacturing cool toys for his bros.”

  “There a problem?” Reggie asked, stepping in lest Frank become the doormat of this conversation. Much as Frank could take care of his own business, Rich was piloting Daisy2, and Reggie didn’t want to see his spare juggernaut launched into the ravine like a golf ball if Frank took something personal.

  “Yeah. Your loaner jug’s a pile of shit. House Karrosi used to hand out Badgers. I didn’t half mind having to use one for a few missions.”

  Reggie snorted into his mic. “Well, maybe House Karrosi didn’t do enough to convince you to keep up on insurance. It’s the smart play. If I catch you piloting commando again, I’ll have Chase break down the economics for you.”

  “Sure,” Chase said between plasma blasts at the dam. “I’ve got a whole spreadsheet worked out, and the break-even points are startlingly low compared to… hey. You’re using me as punishment. Low blow.”

  Hydroelectric Dam: 721/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 703/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 696/900

  Hydroelectric Dam: 688/900

  The dam was holding up like a champ, but it had no means to defend or repair itself. Unless they were slow about it, the response force wouldn’t get here until long after the dam was flooded rubble.

  It wasn’t long before the cracks and holes added up. The dam ran out of hit points, and the lake groaned and toppled what remained of the structure. Even for a video game, the effect was awe-inspiring as a kajillion gallons of water roared down the ravine, flooding the banks of the trickling river that normally flowed at the bottom.

  [Primary Objective Complete: Sabotage Hydroelectric Dam]

  “All in a day’s work,” Ellie said. “How long until the targets show up for practice?”

  “Any minute now,” June replied. “I’m showing a drop ship on scanners. It looks like they’re landing at…” She paused, waiting for confirmation from her computer. “K-144.”

  Artemis and Harper’s Chipmunk, Alvin, spread out and covered the likely approaches.

  Reggie and the rest of Wounded Legion waited.

  TARGET DATA RECEIVED

  [Secondary Objective FAILED: Evacuate Before Hostile Forces Arrive]

  June cackled over the radio.

  “What?” Reggie asked immediately.

  Harper snorted but composed himself in time to answer before she could. “It’s eight juggernauts. All Pixies.”

  “Hey, RichyRichy,” Reggie called out jovially. “Want to kick a little Pixie derriere? Get out some of those frustrations on a worthy target?”

  Stuck in Reggie’s Pixie, Rich could only take the verbal pounding in stride. “Yeah. Fuck Pixies. I wanna beat those little bitches until fairy dust blots out the sun.”

  Reggie saw the moving blips on his mini-map. He tapped one and linked it to Rich’s targeting computer.

  TARGET DATA SHARED

  “All right, everyone. Fire at will. No special plan here. But leave Pixie[6] for Rich. Got it?”

  As predicted, the mission was a bloodbath. The Pixies inflicted a few scratches, and the rest of the faction watched as Rich dueled the last remaining Pixie to the death after the others had been torn, scorched, and blasted to bits.

  [Mission Successful - 900 XP - 2,200Cr]

  Luckily, with an ore refinery available, the scrap more than tripled their take. The Cumulus Imperium might have commissioned this raid, but they were only subsidizing the salvage job Reggie arranged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Weeks passed. Wounded Legion collected income from Schet IX and Alcon Prime. They ran smaller raids for resources instead of conquest, building up their strength and purchasing defenses for their little collection of planets before they moved onto bigger and better endeavors.

  They continued recruiting.

  The headquarters now sported a hangar with 15 bays for juggernaut pilots. That meant Lin and June had to bring in candidates. Reggie didn’t even bother talking to the slop bucket of applicants until the two of them had winnowed the list down to a manageable few.

  Five had made it through Reggie’s screening.

  They had all come from other factions, some due to disillusionment, others because of factions disbanding. The five of them stood in a row beneath the looming juggernauts in the hangar. If he was going to make an army of them, Reggie needed them to understand the game world the way he saw it.

  “There are three types of factions out there,” Reggie said, pacing down the line with his hands clasped behind his back. “There are the fat, complacent giants that sit i
n the core systems like slugs, wallowing in their power. There are mercenary factions that serve those gluttons. Then there are the small, hungry factions looking to carve out a share of the galaxy and eventually challenge those giants. That’s what Wounded Legion is. In addition to this base, we currently hold two systems, Schet IX and Alcon Prime. Tomorrow, we will add another planet to our growing empire.”

  As he walked in front of them, none of the new recruits managed to remain at military attention. They turned their heads to track his movements. They shifted on their feet. In the digital realm, those feet weren’t getting sore standing there, so the only excuse for their fidgeting was boredom or inattention.

  Reggie needed to cut this short. He was already losing his grip on the recruits with his windy speech.

  “All right. Before we head out for a little fun and practice, anyone got any questions?”

  “This base have a name?” Reese asked. He was a Level 9 Gunner and one of the more promising of the new recruits. His juggernaut was a Demon named Heckfire. Just hearing that made Reggie check his game setting to make sure curse censoring hadn’t been re-enabled.

  “No,” Reggie said. “We don’t have a name for it.”

  Standing on the sidelines, watching the orientation, Chase raised a hand. “Why not? I haven’t said anything, but I’ve wondered about that.”

  Reggie sighed through his nose. “Fine. I’ll come up with a name for it.”

  “How about Tardis?” suggested Thatchet, the lowest level of the newbies, a Level 5 Scout.

  “How about no?’” Lin shot from beside Chase. “Nothing lame or from some TV show or movie.”

  Chase pointed index fingers at Reggie like guns. “I’ve got it. Elysium. That’s where the ancient Greek heroes went when—”

  “No,” June cut in quickly. As soon as Chase went quiet, she relaxed. “No. I think we can do better than that. Just don’t rush Reggie.”