Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Acknowledments
Morpheus: What is real? How do you define 'real'? If you're talking about what you can feel, what you can smell, what you can taste and see, then 'real' is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain.
~ The Matrix (1999)
Duty is no less to me than breathing.
~ Prime Minister Harkington
...........................
Yesterday…
The Planet Almaach
3756 UT
...........................
Princess Talargo paced.
Prime Minister Harkington frowned. “I know it’s asking you—”
She interrupted him. “Stop. It’s my duty. Where is it now?”
“It’s being smuggled into the city tomorrow.”
“I’ll take it to the Arodian Mountains and place it—”
“No!” This time, the Prime Minister interrupted the Princess. “Don’t tell me. If I fall into enemy hands…”
...........................
Meanwhile…
The Planet Earth
2042 CE
...........................
Dale Brown pushed the power button.
“Now what?” Brian asked him.
“Hold on.” Dale started getting undressed. “Ummm, can you leave the room for a minute?”
Once Brian shut the door, Dale ditched his underwear, and crawled into the soft, black Rhithsuit and sealed everything except for his face.
“You can come back now.”
“So now what?”
“I put on this soft helmet thingie, which kind of feels like warm plastic gelatin, then attach this air hose, and—”
“That looks claustrophobic.” Brian reached out and touched the helmet.
“It has an emergency command to exit,” Dale said.
“You should try it before—”
“I will. Don’t worry, I’ve read the reviews. Once you get used to initial nausea and vertigo, it’s supposed to feel just like you’re there.”
“Where are you going first?”
“I have to do the Rhith World tutorial but after I get my character calibrated I’m playing Nagant Wars.”
...........................
One year ago…
Another Universe
Agreed Upon Neutral Ground
Between the Declan & Klaharn Factions
...........................
“Lord, may I speak freely?” Chief Advisor Clameatial spoke, his speech was clipped and rushed. His face was anguished, and it appeared he’d run a long distance.
“Indeed,” said Lord Kalondist.
“This unknown universe and its life forms… Are they worth fighting for, my Lord?”
“Have you ever had a pet?” Lord Ashertong motioned for him to sit.
“No.”
“Imagine it.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“A pet is innocent. A pet is a result of breeding a creature out of the wild. It has no other choice but to be dependent on its master. Do you understand this?”
“I do.”
“Then you know what my answer must be.”
“Even if that means war, my Lord?”
“If our values do not extend to death they are meaningless.”
“Yes, my Lord. I shall advise the House of Nagant.”
CHAPTER ONE
Beautiful ideals were painted for our boys who were sent out to die. This was the war to end wars. This was the war to make the world safe for democracy. No one told them that dollars and cents were the real reason. No one mentioned to them, as they marched away, that their going and their dying would mean huge war profits.
~ Smedley D. Butler
There are burdens, placed by God, that must be enforced by a government.
~ Earth United Defense Army Slogan
...........................
Dale Brown lived with his parents, but he’d be choosing a technical college soon, and that meant freedom. He sat at the kitchen table and asked his mother to pass him the milk.
“You’ll have to be more responsible when you’re on your own,” she said.
“I know, Mom,” he said. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“Sorry.”
“Now finish your cereal and go get dressed. The conference is in two hours, and you know how your dad gets if we’re late.”
Dale finished eating.
He thought about putting his cereal bowl in the sink for about a nano-second. He decided that he’d be responsible later. Once classes began his gaming time would be reduced. A lot.
Dale noticed colorful brochures sitting on the counter.
The best schools had been trying to pre-recruit him since his junior year. Nothing declared: We have Corporate Marketing Funds to Burn, like the high gloss, three-fold brochures he flipped through.
An envelope, dark black and green, was mixed in with the college advertisements. Government. And Dale’s name was clearly stamped in red ink across the front.
...........................
Dear Mr. Dale Brown,
This notice is to
inform you that you are required by law [Section 34: Sub-Section: 654a] to present yourself for testing and trials for possible selection into the Earth United Defense Army, EUDA, on May 17, 2043.
Please be aware that the United States of America will prosecute, to the fullest extent of the law, any of the following actions:
Failure to appear.
Failure to test at capacity.
Failure to serve at capacity.
Your testing site:
49420 W. Finders Way
Cincinnati, OH XEl89e-998c
Please cut and paste the following code:
xcidu-uuuo4875-owixck-987c
Into any approved browser and follow the instructions provided to verify receipt of this notice.
S/Master of Recruitment: Col. W.M. Nicholson
...........................
“Shit.” Dale sighed and folded the letter.
“Dale, please. Your brother will hear you.”
“He’s wearing headphones.”
“Still. It’s not polite. Now, what’s the matter?” His mother put down her e-reader and stared at him.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, honey. I know you too well,” she said.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. It wasn’t his thing to explain to his mother the complex machinations of his mind. Half the time he wasn’t sure himself. “I’m going to my room.”
“Be ready on time—”
“Yes, mother. Dad doesn’t like to be late. It doesn’t matter. We might as well cancel.”
“What?” His mother picked up the envelope. “What was in this?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Son.”
“Wait until Dad gets home, okay?” Dale went to his room.
...........................
When Earl Brown walked into the kitchen the first thing he noticed was the envelope.
“Fuck,” he said.
“Earl!”
“Sorry, dear. Where’s Dale?”
“He’s in his room. Sulking. I’m not sure what it’s about. Something to do with that envelope…”
“Yes. I was afraid of this.” Earl sat and looked at his wife.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s the Nagant Wars. Ohio lawmakers signed the treaty only a few days ago. They’re conscripting our sons.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Life,” said Marvin dolefully, “loathe it or ignore it, you can’t like it.”
~ Douglas Adams
I died in Vietnam, but I didn’t stop breathing for another twenty-two years.
~ John Earl Brown
...........................
The Brown’s attended the trade school conference in spite of Dale’s sour mood. The hall was crowded. Families with young men and women, who were all close to Dale’s age, walked among the booths and listened to pitches from recruiters. Getting the right scholarship would mean a student could find themselves being funneled into a life-long job. All of the best corporations owned the best schools. Dale felt like the course of his entire life would be determined in the next few weeks.
He received a message:
...........................
Robrsltater: R U Here
DaBrFreak8: Y
Robrsltater: W?
DaBrFreak8: Nxt 2 Holling Corp booth U?
Robrsltater: turn around asswipe
...........................
Dale turned and spotted Brian, his best friend from high school. He motioned for him.
“Hello, Mr. & Mrs. Brown,” Brian said.
“Hey there, sport,” Earl Brown said. He rubbed Brian’s head and messed up his hair.
“Dad, stop,” Dale said. “I don’t think Brian wants his hair—”
“I’m sure your dad didn’t mean to ruin his hair style,” Rhonda Brown said. She smiled at Brian. “How are you hon? I haven’t seen you, gee, well, since last night at one in the morning when you and Dale woke up Jeremy, and I had to spend an hour getting him back to sleep.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Brown. We got—immmm—we had this level to get past. I’m sorry I yelled.”
“Apology accepted,” she said. “I know I’ll miss you both when you’re off to school. Even the noise. Even picking up after you.”
“If we even get to go to school,” Brian said.
Rhonda frowned.
“Don’t remind me,” Dale said. “I was trying to forget.”
“Think positive, boys,” Earl said. “I know my grandfather fought in Vietnam, and he claimed it had made him into the man he’d become.”
“Earl!” Rhonda said. “Your grandfather committed suicide. I don’t think your pep talk skills… This war business is— I don’t want to think about it.”
“I’m sure we’ll be okay, Mrs. Brown,” Brian said.
But Dale didn’t think he sounded very confident.
They walked on, as a family, and Brian tagged along. The number of prestigious schools hunting for talent was astonishing.
Virtual reality systems engineers, programmers, hardware developers, wet-wear integration developers, cross-platform program designers, model makers, sculptors, artists, voice-over actors, team-leaders, multi-media experts, trans-species-integration consultants. It was nearly endless.
“It’s amazing,” Earl Brown said.
“We should attend the same school,” Brian said. He patted Dale on the back.
“Yeah, sure. As long as it’s Prootingham Technical University.” Dale had wanted to attend PTU since he was in middle school.
“You’re stuck on that?”
“Yes, they have the best skeleton reconstruction and development department in the world. Even better than MIT. Or any of the other tech schools that have added VR in the last ten years, even better than HU in Berlin.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do that. Look, there is their booth,” Brian said.
Dale picked up his pace and made a bee-line to the PTU conference table and looked at brochures and spoke to the recruiter. He was certain this was where he wanted to train.
After his parents had agreed, he signed up for trials and testing. They scheduled him to start the following week.
They spent another hour browsing the tables and talking to counselors and recruiters, but Dale had already decided what he was going to do. He was confident that he’d pass their tests. He’d been regional champion at the science and tech fair for two years running, and he’d come in third place the year before that.
He could design complex skeleton structures of most major mammals, living or extinct, practically in his sleep. What he had won the first place award for last year was a monster construct that appeared to be like a T-rex combined with an African Bull Elephant, two of his very favorite extinct monsters. What had impressed the judges were the extraordinary lengths Dale had gone to in creating connection points between elements and the ease at which he’d made integration with flesh modeling programmers so easy and intuitive.
Getting programmers to work together was becoming increasing difficult because each new patent presented such insane potential for profit that nobody wanted to share.
The old joke wasn’t funny anymore.
“What’s open source?”
“Larry’s sister.”
...........................
Dale entered the testing facility of PTU a week after he and his parents had signed forms and letters of intent. PTU had offices in the biggest cities throughout the world. Cincinnati was no exception. Dale took a Wuder Car to the bus station and waited there for Brian, who was always late.
...........................
DaBrFreak8: Where RU?!
Robrsltater: 5 min Dnt Stres
...........................
Once they exited the bus, they walked into PTU less than a minute later. The Prootingham Technical University Cincinnati Campus building took up an entire city block. It was a massive and complex
structure, with hundreds of people coming and going at any given moment. It took nearly fifteen minutes for them to pass through security.
Retinal scan.
Fingerprints.
Blood sample.
No exceptions.
After being guided to the proper office, an older woman with soft, friendly eyes handed them each a form.
“Old fashioned paperwork, boys.” She smiled.
“How come?” Brian asked.
“Handwriting analysis and it’s impossible to say you didn’t write the answers. You can’t say someone hacked a ball point pen with nano-ink. Well, you could claim that, but that kind of advanced technology is traceable. These pens, believe it or not, were made in China in 2011, and yes, I need them back.”
Dale looked at the form.
...........................
Your Name:___________________________________________ (please print).
Your Name:___________________________________________ (please write in script)
Your Lacying-Barington Act of 2037 CE number, including any additional classifications:
_________________-_________-______-_______-_______
Please copy the following in your handwriting:
I, (print name), swear on this date: (date in CE, United Cal.), do hereby swear that I am who I present myself to be. I am applying to Prootingham Technical University on my own accord and I am not under the direction of any competing corporation, a think-tank, a research organization, an NGO, or a government, including my own.
I am a fully naturalized citizen of (state citizenship) and I am not currently under indictment or investigation of any kind to the best of my knowledge.
Signed this day (insert today’s date) (Sign your full given name as recorded under the Lacying-Barington Act of 2037 CE)
...........................
Dale filled out the form on page one and turned to the next page. The amount of information they required was overwhelming.
...........................
Nagant Wars: A LitRPG Novel (Nagant Wars Series Book 1) Page 1