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  Hypercage Instant Reality Prequel One Novella

  ±

  Craig Lea Gordon

  Copyright © 2016 by Craig Lea Gordon All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Red warning lights flared in the darkness of the cockpit as a robotic female voice barked through the silence, “Lock On. Lock On.”

  Hundreds of different icons filled the scanner as the battle raged around him. Laser fire and missiles criss-crossed in the distance as the two capital ships started to close ranks. The hulking red shard of death that was the enemy Dreadnought closed off their exit, and the asteroid field hemmed in the Ticonderoga, leaving it with nowhere left to run. A swarm of starfighters spewed forth from the bellies of the ships, joining the horde of gunships and corvettes fighting to protect their capital ship. He closely monitored the scanners for distance, the enemies’ particle lance was almost within weapons range. They didn’t have much time. He had to get his payload delivered. It was their only chance.

  The flashing red icons on his scanner showed that two ships were right behind him, locking on to his heat signature. Pterax, so focused on his bombing run, hadn’t seen them drop in behind him as he skimmed underneath the asteroid belt, trying to get to his target by avoiding the chaos of space above. He’d hoped his approach would have gone unnoticed, a lone ship lost amidst the pandemonium. They must have dived through the bottom of the asteroid belt to give chase, as he, sensing their weakness, passed underneath the enemy carrier.

  Pterax blink-clicked at both targets on the scanner, and 3D schematics of the chasing ships appeared on his HUD.

  Dammit. Mozzies. No way could he outrun them in his torpedo boat. He had to take them out.

  The chasing craft launched a full salvo of tomcat missiles. His scanner showed the white dots racing away from the enemy ships as they homed in on his heat signature. He didn’t have any decoy flares left to counter the incoming hardware. It had taken everything he had just to weave his way through the carnage above and get this far. Pterax yanked hard on the stick and diverted all the shield and laser energy to the engines. Flames erupted from the five-engine array, shoving him into the back of the chair, propelling him towards the bottom layer of the asteroid cluster as he tried desperately to evade the incoming ordnance.

  He scanned the approaching hunks of rock, and picking out the most suitable one, aimed straight for it. Matching his thoughts, a rear camera view snapped into view on his HUD, showing the missiles spread out in a cluster behind him. They were getting so close he could make out the tips of the warheads. He cut the power from one of the engines and, with a twist of the flight stick, set the torpedo boat into a roll. The off-centre heat signature caused the cluster of warheads to tighten. He reignited engine four and fired the afterburners. The asteroid filled his entire view as he rapidly closed in on it. He primed a sun crusher and waited until the last second. With a squeeze of the trigger, the torpedo slammed forward. A camera feed slid into his HUD, and he guided the sun crusher torpedo into the deep fissure running across the centre of the asteroid. As soon as it disappeared into the crack, he detonated the weapon. The explosion ripped the asteroid open, the blast wave shooting the debris in every direction. He dove through the dissipating explosion where the centre of the asteroid used to be. The tightened cluster of missiles were assaulted by the rushing slabs of rock, either knocked off course to detonate other lumps of asteroid or exploding immediately on contact. Once he’d steered the ship through the epicentre of the blast, Pterax slammed on the anchors, the nozzles at the front of the craft firing immediately to reduce its velocity to zero. He pitched the missile boat around, spinning in a neat 180 degrees to face towards the oncoming enemy ships.

  Slamming all power to the engines once more and firing the afterburners, the missile boat roared through the explosions from the neutralised missiles. He initiated the targeting sequence. Two reticles flew in from the edge of his HUD to snap onto the approaching craft. Pterax smiled to himself as he imagined their surprise as their cockpits shrilled with a lock-on warning. He fired off two missiles at nearly point blank range as he shot between them. On the rear-facing camera, he watched as they exploded together, the expanding fireballs from the detonating craft overlapping each other, creating a single blossom of destruction against the blackness.

  He yanked back on the stick and swung around to realign on the enemy capital ship. He checked the distance until it was in firing range of the Ticonderoga. There was still time. He primed the sun crusher warheads and opened his comms channel.

  “Command, this is Missile Boat 7. I am on final approach to the enemy capital ship. Request Ion fire in 30 seconds,” he said.

  “Roger that, Pterax. We’ll give you support.”

  Are you ready to order, Dave?

  “Affirmative, command. Four sun crusher warheads are primed for delivery.”

  Dave!

  “Excellent work, Pterax. We’ll get those laser batteries deactivated for you. You’re our last chance to turn this around.”

  DAVE! Did you hear me?

  “My pleasure, command. Get ready for Ion blast in 10...”

  I’m ready to order. Have you chosen yet?

  “9... 8... 7...”

  DAVE! GODDAMMIT! Will you answer me?

  “6... 5... 4...”

  If you don’t answer me right now, I’m leaving.

  “3... 2...”

  I mean it.

  At the tone of that last sentence, he knew he couldn’t push it any further. But he was so close. He could almost see the payload of sun crushers firing off towards the capital ship. The sound of experience points racking up in his ears was almost enough for him to ignore the voice and continue on his approach. And then it came.

  Now.

  A single word. But he knew its intent. Its low, almost guttural inflection rolled around inside his head. He could imagine the way her mouth formed the words, the way her bottom teeth would be bared. This was it. He had to cut the connection.

  With a thought, the cockpit broke down into thousands of triangles, dividing the view of the interior of the spaceship. As they floated away, a luminous hex grid of his gaming construct was visible between the gaps. One by one, they flashed rapidly and vanished. The glowing purple grid collapsed down into a single point, leaving only blackness. With a lurch that turned his stomach, the blackness switched back to reality as the connection severed. He lowered the menu. His wife’s face a frown of danger across the restaurant table. He was in trouble.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  Dave paused as a set of notifications slotted up the side of his HUD, glowing vividly against the romantic lighting of their corner booth.

  +200 Session XP

  +100 XP Mission flare

  +1000 XP Enemy craft destroyed

  -1500 XP Mission objectives failed

  Net score: -100 XP

  Daily XP total: 71,265

  Minus 100 experience points? And only a hundred XP for mission flare! That was fucking bollocks. He slammed the table with his fist. The two glasses of red wine wobbled uncertainly from the impact. Dave reached out and grabbed both stems to stop them from falling over. The sudden motion slopped a good mouthful out of each glass, where it covered his hands and ran over the top of his skin to stai
n the white tablecloth. He watched as it soaked into the material. More waste. Just like wasting that mission. Now it was going to take him even longer to get to Battle Rank 40. He was way off his daily target. All because she had to interrupt him. She couldn’t simply give him a second. Couldn’t simply wait.

  “Dave!”

  That tone again. He snapped his head up to look at her. Sure enough, her bottom teeth were bared. The expression she always used when she was about to give him a bollocking.

  “What?” he snapped. The sharpness of his words matching his frustration at her impatience.

  “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked again.

  “Nothing,” he said. He hung his head to avert her gaze. Not that it did any good, feeling her eyes boring in to the top of his head.

  “Lock On. Lock On.”

  “What… so you were just ignoring me, were you? Staring vacantly into the menu?” she accused .

  “No… I was just…”

  “Will you give me the courtesy of looking at me when I’m talking to you!” she snapped.

  He lifted his head up to meet her gaze. Eyes like black holes. Sucking him in from where neither time nor light could escape.

  “You were taking ages. So… So I logged in for a second.”

  “What do you mean—you logged in?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  “I got an alert about our home carrier being under attack. So I logged in for a bit to help out,” he offered in explanation.

  She leaned in over the table, her voice low and quiet, but each word spoken with utter precision. “Are you telling me that I've been sitting here, looking through the menu, and you've been jacked in to a fucking game the whole time?”

  He mumbled something in reply.

  “What?”she demanded.

  “Yes. Alright. Yes. I logged in and tried to pick up a quick mission whilst you were looking over the menu. You always take ages. It’s fucking ridiculous. How long exactly do you need to decide?” he shouted.

  As one, the rest of the diners turned to look in their direction, but Dave ignored them. Haven’t they got anything better to do? He pulled at the collar on his shirt, trying to give his neck some extra room. It seemed awfully hot in the restaurant all of a sudden.

  “Will you keep your goddamn voice down? You’re causing a scene.” she said. ‘I can’t believe you’d have the gall to ignore me just so you can jump on a stupid kids’ game for a few minutes.”

  “You think a kid could navigate through an asteroid field? And besides, I’ve got this new time dilation plugin. It means I’m not wasting time whilst you’re trying to decide what to stuff in your ugly face,” he growled.

  “You know, you always resort to the insults when you know you’re wrong. And you know you’re in the wrong, don’t you?” she admonished.

  Dave just stared at her, thoughts tumbling around his head about all the things he wanted to say. But they’d only make things worse. His throat felt dry and coarse all of a sudden. He’d better order a water with his meal, as soon as they get over this fiasco.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Do you know how long I had to wait to book this place? Months!” she said.

  “We didn’t have to come here you know,” he replied.

  “I wanted it to be special, Dave. Unlike you, it seems. I thought it’d be nice to celebrate our ten years together in a real restaurant for a change. Seems like you just don’t care, though”

  “Of course I care! It’s just…,” he waffled.

  “Just what?” she asked.

  “I was this close, Becks,” he offered, holding finger and thumb an inch apart. “This close to nailing that enemy Dreadnought. And now it’s going to take me even longer to get to the final battle rank. All I needed was an extra couple of seconds. But you kept nagging, so I had to disconnect. And now today is pretty much a waste. I’m way off my daily quota.”

  Why wasn’t there any water on the table? He was feeling parched. And all this arguing she was doing wasn’t helping.

  “I can’t believe you!” she said. She sat back in the chair and folded her arms.

  But Dave wasn’t listening. He was watching a new notification scroll up into his HUD.

  Home Carrier Ticonderoga destroyed. All troops return to warp gate for deployment.

  “Well… that’s just flipping brilliant isn’t it? Now they’ve destroyed our carrier. All because you couldn’t wait another picosecond for my undivided attention,” he groused, slumping in the booth, leaning the back his head against the plush red velvet backrest.

  “You are un-fucking believable, do you know that? I’ve just given you the opportunity to make amends for being such a shit, and all you care about is that fucking game. Well, I’ll tell you what is going to happen,” she said, leaning forward once more. “You’re going to wipe that game right now, or that’s us finished.”

  “What? You can’t be serious,” he responded, sitting upright with a jolt.

  “I am deadly serious. Why don’t you try me?” she stated.

  Dave considered all the hours logged just to get to Battle Rank 39. He was so close to BR 40. He was almost there, and he’d be the first one ever to get to experience the end game content. A couple of other players were close, but he should be able to manage it, as long as he hit his daily XP quota. He had to get back on today; otherwise, he was going to have extra catching up to do. Then he thought about what she said. About deleting his profile and losing everything. Not only that — he’d never play again, never feel the adrenaline rush as a notification popped into his HUD. Logging in and getting his orders from command. The sound of the klaxons as he prepped for launch before being shot out of the launch tubes. Space robbed of its darkness by laser fire. Huge capital ships locked together by colossal beams of energy. Thousands of ships worrying at their hulls. The feeling of being part of an ever-changing war fought on a truly galactic scale. His outfit was one of the best in the game, and with it, he was one of the most respected pilots. His VR training sessions were regarded as the best out there. He couldn’t give all of that up. He was somebody in that universe. Here, in real-life, he was nobody. A stay-at-home Dad. He loved his son, but he needed more. And Becks was always at work. Never there for him. His Outfit was like his family. A pain flared in his chest that gave way to a tightness. He found it difficult to breathe. The heat in the realstaurant was suddenly overwhelming. He clawed at his neck. Choking, fighting the restrictive collar of the shirt she insisted he wear. Why the hell wasn’t there water on the table? His breathing quickened. He started to hyperventilate. Wiping his brow, his hand came away slick with sweat. His vision blurred. Someone kicked the chair out from under him. He tried to grab onto the table to steady himself but only managed to grab onto the tablecloth. He pulled the glasses of red wine on top of himself as he fell out of the chair. One of them landed on his head as he crashed to the ground, smashing against his temple and cutting his face. Ejecting the red wine all over him. He felt his limbs spasm uncontrollably as he lay on the floor, the red wine soaking into his shirt. The ceiling swam in and out of focus. Becks appeared above him, some sort of medical device in-hand. She pressed it to his neck, and he felt his body relax as the spasms dissipated. His breathing slowed, and he could see that Becks was talking to him. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the soothing sounds of her voice managed to cut through the buzzing in his ears. She was caressing his head and holding his hand. He started to feel normal again. Arms lifted him gently from behind. They carried him out of the realstaurant, Becks walking next to him, holding his hand. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to keep upright as he walked, but the firm arms around him kept him from falling over. The concierge opened the doors, and the cold air slapped him in the face, snapping him out of his daze. The ringing in his ears subsided, and Becks took him by both hands, holding them gently. He managed to stand up right and the arms released him. “Thank you very much,” Becks said over his sh
oulder.

  “No problem,” the voice at his back commented.

  “Are you OK?” She asked.

  “Err, yes. Yes. What happened?” He inquired.

  “Panic attack,” she replied. “I had to give you a suppressant to calm you down.”

  He squeezed her hands. “Thanks Becks,” he said.

  “Come on, I’ll get you home and you can delete everything tomorrow.”

  He pulled his hands away roughly, breaking free of her grip.

  “No way. All I need is to log in. Once I get my XP for today, I’ll be fine.”

  “Dave, don’t be an arsehole. You need proper help. You’re an addict,” she admonished.

  “That’s insane. I’m not addicted.”

  “Yes, you are. You just can’t admit it to yourself. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed before,” she said, guiltily.

  “Well, that wouldn’t be difficult, you’re never around,” he complained.

  “That’s not fair. You know I’ve been trying to setup the new mech team at the hospital. Do you know how long it takes to calibrate surgical mechs? Besides, that’s not even the point, so don’t think you can weasel your way out of this. We get jack-heads coming into the hospital all the time, so don’t think I can’t spot one when I see one,” she responded.

  “That’s bollocks. It’s just because I’m off my quota. If Jakey hadn’t woken up early from his nap, then I would have hit my target and I’d be fine. Come on, don’t be a twat.”

  “Listen to yourself — you’re completely obsessed,” she accused.

  “Hey, it’s not my fucking fault. It’s because that little bastard woke up early,” he snarled, pointing at her face, veins bulging at his neck.

  “That’s it Dave, you’ve gone too far.” She turned her back on him and gestured in the air. A bright red target appeared on the ground in the centre of the plaza, pedestrians giving it a wide berth. Becks strode away to wait next to it.