by Tao Wong
“Oh…?”
“The Zarrie Kingdom in LA has received a large batch of reinforcements of Jaracks. Current estimates put it at a full brigade, but we’re still verifying data,” Miller informs me.
“Jarack?”
“You humans have them translated as were-jackals. Which is weird because they don’t actually transform,” Ali clarifies.
“What’s their force composition now of Advanced and Master Classes?” I say with a frown.
“Total combat Classes show three low Level Master Classes and forty-three Advanced Classes spread between Los Angeles and its surroundings,” Miller replies. “As you know, they had just over two-thirds of their numbers deployed against Camp Pendleton. That allowed the other resistance cells in Los Angeles to continue fighting. But with the reinforcements, we expect the balance of power to change drastically.”
The Marines in Camp Pendleton and the various other members of the armed forces have done a stellar job—out-Leveled as they’ve been, they’ve refused to back down and have kept up a string of harassing attacks. Once they Leveled up enough, they even managed to get a few of their old toys, like their tanks and artillery, back in action. So much so that the Zarrie have had to keep a significant armed presence near their borders to contain the Marines.
While a Master Class is powerful—scarily so—I’m given to understand that the Marines have shown a willingness to trade a lot of lives for a kill. It’s that willingness that allowed them to chalk up a Master Class kill and just over a dozen Advanced Classers. Swarm tactics aren’t uncommon—it’s why I didn’t get a world first for killing a Master Class individual on Earth. It’s also why most Advanced and Master Class individuals have escape Skills and spells on hand, but surprise and arrogance can often disarm even the best prepared. Levels help ensure that there’s a significant weight to the entire quality argument, but quantity still has a quality of its own. And no Kingdom is willing to lose a Master Class just to kill a few hundred Basics.
“Sounds like time’s running out,” I say, staring at the map and the small markers on the board. Amusingly enough, I think I understood the Seattle mages’ map better than this more “professional” one. But in the end, the truth they impart is the same. “You need me to speed up and head south now.”
“Yes,” Miller says, his head coming up. “Once you provide them the settings for our communication formation, we’ll be able to support one another with greater ease. We should also be able to achieve real-time communication between our two bases.”
“Are we changing the plan then? Go wide to reach Pendleton rather than through the city to create waypoints?” I ask. That was the initial plan. Between my stealth skills and the new Shrunken Footprints Skill, I should be able to sneak into the city itself. Due to the constant fighting, the areas around LA don’t have stable settlement shields that I have to concern myself about.
“Yes.” Wier traces a path south, elaborating on the challenges I can expect to face as best as they know.
I settle in to listen and ask some questions, though as always, I’ll make my own decisions when it gets right down to it. Being the man on the bike, that’s my responsibility. Still, in the back of my mind, I worry that all this talking means more lives are being lost.
***
“Major.” I greet Alvarez when he walks up, followed by a squad—I hope that’s the right term. A bunch of soldiers anyway—in a squat military machine with a big cannon on it seen in way too many Hollywood movies.
“Mr. Lee.” Alvarez nods to me. “The members of Staff Sargent Johnson’s squad will be following you. Their orders are to ensure that you make it to Camp Pendleton and to aid in the verification of your identity. That is, of course, secondary to the verification documents and passphrases you’ve been provided with.”
I grunt, recalling the rather specific talk Alvarez had with me after this morning’s meeting. He’d been particularly pedantic about it, ensuring that I recalled everything word for word and in the right order before he let me go. Luckily, a stupidly high Intelligence meant that when and if I concentrated, small things like that were easy to memorize. And I have to admit, I cheated and recorded the information in my helmet just in case.
“That going to last? Things are going to get rough,” I say, glancing at the vehicle. Even if they’ve changed out the engines to make it run, the fact stands that most vehicles made pre-System aren’t strong enough to take a solid whacking. Heck, I recall a particularly exuberant five-year-old putting a dent in an abandoned vehicle back in Whitehorse.
“This particular vehicle has been rebuilt entirely by our Machinists,” Alvarez answers, glancing at the vehicle with some pride before looking at me. “It will suffice. Staff Sargent Johnson and his team have most recently traveled the road you’re on, so please make sure to listen to them.”
“All right, let’s go,” I say and twist Sabre’s throttle. The bike slides forward without a sound, rolling out of the gates.
It’s only a few minutes later that I realize I forgot to actually talk to the sargent. Oops…
***
On the shorter route, it’s just under two hundred miles from Fort Irwin to Camp Pendleton. On a good day, that’d be a three hour or so drive, maybe less depending on traffic. Now, with monsters, destroyed roads, hostile settlements, and insane environmental factors, that three-hour drive could easily take a whole day. And we’re taking the long way around, cutting away from Los Angeles to swing by Joshua Tree National Park, Palm Springs, and the Cleveland National Forest. Any of those areas could easily force us to take much longer than a single day if we wanted to do this quietly.
Unfortunately, the option of doing things quietly has gone the way of the Zarrie reinforcements, and so we’re just going to do it fast. In a short period after we leave the base, the Humvee overtakes me to take point, kicking up dust while a pair of tiny drones fly overhead to provide overwatch. Neither of those are anywhere as good as Ali, but I don’t tell them that. Wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings.
We swing off the highway more than once, often because there isn’t a highway left, the pavement destroyed by fights or just the movement of a monster. In one case, the footprints are so large and reptilian that it seems as if the Midwest is about to be hit by a herd of immigrating kaiju. Off-road, we have to slow down, rolling up and over barren hills, dealing with sudden bogs and hidden monsters.
Palm Springs was once a resort town for the big Hollywood elites, a place where you could commonly see withered, old rich folk and Hollywood starlets within the same day. It had been pretentious, brown, and filled with marble, an oasis of rich snobbery and transplanted plants.
“Five hundred Credits per person.” The green-polo-shirt, white-shorts-wearing tanned Golfer grins at us, his titular clubs slung across his shoulder.
He and his friends found us as we tried to swing around the settlement, not wanting to stop at a human-owned place. A quick glance at their Levels shows that they’re a mix of mid 40s to low 30s, a weird assortment of Classes ranging from pure combat to well, Golfers.
I lipread Polo Shirt’s words as I stay behind the Humvee, Johnson having indicated that he’s in charge of this negotiation.
“We letting them shake us down?” I mutter to the soldier sent to babysit me.
He’s got his head on a swivel, checking behind us for potential problems, trusting his friends to do the same in their own zones of responsibility. I’m doing the same too, sort of. Ali is double-checking and verifying information on the sensor maps while I look around with my own eyes.
“We have an agreement with the settlement,” the soldier says out of the corner of his mouth. “We pay them for passage; they leave us alone.”
“They that tough to take down?”
“Not in my experience,” he says. “But I just follow orders.”
I grunt, watching as Johnson pays for our passage and gets a briefing on the most recent movements by our mutual enemies. Patrol routes, schedules, and s
ightings of new enemies are all part of the report. I have to admit, the information is useful, even if I’m not thrilled by the idea of being extorted. When we get back on the road, I find myself asking Johnson about the situation.
“The owner of Palm Springs is not particularly friendly with us. We’ve come to an agreement that allows us passage through their areas, but it’s tenuous.”
“Why do you let them stay?” I frown, considering the distances between Palm Springs and the base. It’d certainly give the base access to a Shop, which I know they badly need.
“They’re an American settlement,” Johnson says with a grunt. "Our job is to protect them, not forcibly conscript their lands.”
“Ah… politics,” I say.
I’m not entirely sure I agree with the general’s decision, but then again, I’m not a soldier. Living your whole life believing you need to keep the very people who are being piss-ass annoyances alive must create some kind of mental dissonance. It doesn’t help that these citizens can and probably will do significant damage in any fight. In the end, I’m just a helpful visitor here. While I like to think of myself as a citizen of the world, that’s less likely to be a viewpoint that’s agreed upon by the Americans. So all I can do is keep quiet and take it for what is.
***
The last few hours of our trip are a slow, agonizing process. Under the cover of Ali’s abilities and the Skills of a pair of the soldiers, we sneak in past the fluid battle lines surrounding Camp Pendleton. With such a large area to cover, the Zarrie can only use roving patrols, droids, and fixed sensor grids to keep watch. Unfortunately for them, all of those can easily be subverted, given enough time, patience, and Skill.
The Zarrie patrols are a mixture of desert-themed creatures. The Jarack reinforcements are jackal-faced humanoids with fur on their bodies and equipped with a mixture of high-tech and melee weapons. They act as the main frontline of the Zarrie while being covered by large, carapace-laden heavies who tote around oversized beam weapons and physical shields. Mixed in among that group are smaller, dog-sized creatures with a shiny, sac-like back that can spit out an acidic-poisonous mixture. Lastly, each patrol has a metallic, vehicular aid—whether airborne or ground—to provide AI-driven help. From what Ali tells me, they’re not the greatest help, but if you need to cart around corpses or scout out potential new problems, the drones did the job.
Mostly we try to avoid even seeing them, but while the information we’ve received is useful, it’s not complete, so we find ourselves hiding, trusting in our Skills and abilities as we sneak closer to our objective. Killing the patrols would be simple, but that would give away our position and if they decided to purchase more information, they’d know what we’re up to. In this case, secrecy is our shield. So we traverse mutated forests, destroyed roads, and deal with numerous bush fires, either trusting in our armor and Skills to keep us alive or swinging wide. It’s a hard call to make—sometimes those wild fires are fueled by Mana and System-enhanced plants, making them a danger even to me.
Again and again, we have to stop and start, our “short” journey lengthening as we swing around System-enhanced problems and the occasional firefight. Finally Johnson decides we’re close enough and makes contact with the base itself. After that, it’s just more waiting before we’re met by the Marines and led in at a breakneck speed.
As we cross the barbed wire fences that surround the buildings, I find myself relaxing. Even if we’re still under guard, being surrounded by humans and the mostly theoretical safety of the walls is comforting. Johnson and his men relax too, especially as we cross deeper into the base itself. Though we’ve all heard of the fierce fighting that has occurred, there’s little on the base to indicate that, all the buildings in pristine condition due to the System. Nothing to indicate a problem, except the way the soldiers move and the edge they all hold. They’re like live weapons, ready to explode into action at any time. The obvious presence of the military police as we head deeper shows that this state of constant battle readiness has taken its toll on the personnel.
Once we’re in, I’m led to a secure bunker where I’m interrogated—nicely—by the guards. As check after check is passed, I find my tension ratcheting up once again. Soon, I’ll be meeting the man in charge and opening a Portal for Wier and Miller. And then we’ll really begin.
***
“Thank you, Mr. Lee. For allowing us to have this conversation,” Sanchez says, the Puerto Rican marine colonel offering me a smile. There’s an edge to the marine, a hardness and a lurking pain in his eyes and a coldness to his smile that reminds me not to underestimate the man.
“You’re welcome,” I answer before glancing toward Wier and Miller.
They too offer their thanks before we get down to the meat of the meeting. The uniformed men aren’t the only individuals present at this meeting. The usual suspects like the mages from Seattle, the Baristas, and of course Lana and Mikito, are all present. In addition, Labashi and a few members of the Adventurers Guilds we’ve begun to work with are here too. In Labashi’s case, he’s here to fill a contract with Wier. The Guilds are here to set up Quests for their members once we’ve decided upon a plan.
“Thank you for coming,” Miller states once everyone’s settled. In the center of the meeting room is a projection of California. “As you know, we must finish this fight before the Zarrie can reinforce further. Of the seventeen City Cores highlighted here, we must take seven for the first phase to be considered complete.
“Due to the significant amount of scrutiny placed upon our forces by the Zarrie, our plans of operations cannot be discussed in any detail. What we are here to discuss is the timeframe the attacks will be conducted under, the requirements that each force has to be ready, the chain of command, and what, if any, concerns you might have about the attack and your group’s involvement.”
It’s kind of amusing, listening to all this. I was in on the earlier conversation between the three, the long talk that Miller had with the other two army officers, along with my interjections, about the System and the Shop’s ability to extract information. Wier, having had more interactions with the Shop itself, was able to provide further information and even shared a few of the documents and books he’d purchased detailing military tactics formed in the presence of the System. The meeting we’re having now is the result of that earlier conversation. However, a bold statement like that, among us civilians, obviously doesn’t garner many points for Miller.
“You’re not telling us the plan?” Charles says, an edge to his voice.
“We’re just civilians, you know.” Kaylee, the Barista, shifts her tone to one parodying the military, almost barking her next words. “We aren’t trusted with things like planning or thinking. Civilians would just mess it up.”
“Har. We’ve cleared more cities than these army boys!”
Labashi watches, his lips pursed. He’s obviously clear on the why, while the Guilds don’t seem too perturbed. In fact, I catch a few smiles. Because of the vagueness of the plans, the resulting quests’ expenses will be high.
“You prefer they tell you the plan now and change it midway?” Lana says, the voice of reason as always. “Because if General Miller is right, and I’ll bet that he is, any plans he actually articulates, puts into writing, or otherwise communicates is open to purchasing. Now, there are Skills and technology to make it harder or at least more expensive to buy that information, but that’s more expensive, not impossible. So being kept in the dark is the best way forward.”
“And if General Miller is assassinated?” Laila asks from her chair. I’m amused that she’s in a sleeveless pantsuit, one that shows off her tightly toned arms.
She looks almost as delicious as the dark-chocolate aide who sits by her side, his arms shown off in a sleeveless vest. For a moment, I wonder if it’s just coincidence or a case of well-designed uniforms before I pull my attention back to Miller.
“The chain of command passes from General Miller to myself to Colonel W
ier to Mr. Lee,” Sanchez answers, waving his fingers and flicking over a document. In it is the new chain of command.
I’m surprised to note Lana’s and Sam’s names on it and relatively high, though we go through a couple more military personnel before it seriously switches around to non-military personnel.
“Why’s John so high up?” Kaylee asks, prodding the paper. “He military too?”
“No. Mr. Lee’s special Skills dictate his position in the chain of command. If he is still able to function at that point, he will be in the best position to ascertain the next steps for our attack,” Miller replies.
“Ah, he gets to decide if we run away?” Daniel asks, stating the obvious.
There’s more than a few frowns at the mage, but he ignores them all. Whether it’s a case of the programmer being entirely oblivious or not caring, he seems more than happy to annoy everyone.
“Or press the attack,” Miller says. “Our troops have been so informed. Now, we have much to discuss and not much time.”
The grumbling stills, at least for the moment, as we turn toward the minutiae of battle prep. It amuses me slightly since my own portion of this is done. I’ve got Sabre, Ali, and my sword. Everything else… well, that’s for others to handle. My people are in good hands. Once again, I’m the damn transport hub.
***
“You were pretty quiet in there,” Sam says to me later that evening where our team has gathered in the house we’ve been allocated.
Everyone’s here, including Carlos and Ingrid, which is a nice change of pace from the recent norm. Perhaps it’s because we’ve all lost our families that voluntary gatherings like this are all the more important, familiar bonds reestablished to offer comfort and succor.
“Didn’t have much to contribute,” I say with a shrug. “You and Lana have a better idea of what our men are like these days. Though I’m surprised you weren’t there.” I say that to Mikito, who sighs.