Gamer Army Read online

  “Stop!” Jackie grabbed Ranger’s arm. She risked one more step to take hold of Flyer as well. “Nobody move.”

  “What’s the problem?” Flyer asked.

  Engineer’s sensors were lit up with infrared lasers, crisscrossing lines of light, waiting for someone to set off an alarm.

  “Trip beams,” Jackie said. “Everywhere. Cross one of them, and security will be on us in moments.”

  “All I see is the yellow line in my HUD, directing me toward the objective,” Ranger said.

  “My viper mod has better scanners,” Jackie explained. “Trust me, there are a lot more lines. If we run into the wrong one, it will be total mission failure.”

  “I’ll just go above them,” Flyer said.

  Jackie shook her head, a nearly useless gesture while invisible. “Some of the beams are up off the ground. You’ll fly right through them. You both need to follow me. Exactly. Step where I step. Walk the way I walk.”

  “I can barely see you,” Ranger said.

  Flyer shoved him. “Then we’ll stay close together.”

  So the three gamers made an awkward procession, almost bumping into one another as they took big steps, small steps, high steps, and ducked down low across the grass toward the big castle building in the center of it all.

  But although their movement was weird, it was short, and basically easy. In no time they were up a set of wooden stairs to the entrance of the White Tower.

  “I’m going to guess the door is locked,” Ranger said.

  “Good guess.” Jackie smiled and deployed a specialized tool from her left wrist, a small cylinder with hundreds of micromotorized metal filaments on the end, like a frayed wire brush or mop, visible only to her, appearing in a sort of transparent green in her field of vision. Carefully easing it into the lock, she let the device perform its function, the motorized filaments probing the lock’s interior, manipulating the heavy tumblers within.

  A quiet metallic scrape.

  A dull click.

  She swung the door open, and the gamers stepped into the dimly lit ancient structure, a cold, heavy quiet hanging from the stone walls.

  Inside, the yellow line visible only on their HUDs turned to the right and led them through a large open hallway, the walls of which were adorned with displays of old battle armor and weapons. Around another corner to the right and they passed through a door into a great stone chapel.

  “You picking up any more security sensors?” Flyer spoke in a whisper, even though they were all still locked into internal comms. The place inspired that kind of respect. With round white stone columns rising up into arches beneath a dome and only a few lights illuminating the simple chapel, the place felt like it might sound with ancient echoes of hymns or like the ghost of an armored knight might step out from between the columns.

  “We’re clear,” Engineer said. The yellow guide line led to the corner on the left side at the other end of the chapel. “Secret elevator is right up here.”

  “Let’s drop the invisibility,” said Rogan. “If they see us opening and closing elevator doors, it will look weirder if they see nobody there than for it to be three guys who work in the base.”

  The three gamers reverted to their former digital disguises and stepped over the red velvet rope that cordoned off the chapel. “Getting into the elevator might be tricky,” Engineer said out loud in Corporal Carson’s voice. “Judging by infrared scans, it’s hidden behind this stone wall, thinner and lighter than the rest of the wall, but still not something we can easily get through.”

  “Who’re you lot, then?” A thick Cockney accent cut the quiet from behind them, echoing menacingly off the walls. The three gamers spun to face a tall, thin man with the beginnings of a beard and a private security contractor uniform, gripping the handle of his holstered gun. “Nobody’s s’posed to be in here a’ this hour.”

  “We work down below,” Rogan said in his disguised voice.

  Engineer switched to internal comms. “It’s a secret base. He might not know about it.”

  “Wha? Down in the dungeons? Come off it, mate. You lot are in big trouble.” He reached for the radio clipped to his belt.

  Rogan charged the guard, wound up, and cracked his fist hard into the man’s jaw. The guard’s head spun to the side, followed by his body. Red blood splattered the white wall, and the man collapsed to the worn stone floor.

  Engineer and Flyer looked at him, their digi-disguised faces impassive but their arms open in surprise. All three of them could easily see the guard’s life signs readout, but the abrupt brutality of Ranger’s attack had surprised the other two.

  “What?” Rogan said. “Weapons don’t work while our PNCs are on. Couldn’t let him call for help.”

  “We should hide him,” Flyer said. “Maybe behind one of the armor displays?”

  “No time for that,” said Rogan. “Who knows when this guy is due to check in. We do this mission fast and get out of here before he’s missed.”

  In any other normal video game, they would have just taken the guy out, and his body would disappear after they’d walked out of range. This Laser Viper tournament had been different. NPCs who would be completely out of the action in other games were still a factor in tournament play.

  “Let’s at least hide him behind the altar.” Flyer was already dragging him to the hasty hiding spot.

  Engineer opened the stone covering in the corner, revealing the steel doors of the elevator behind it.

  “Locked,” Engineer said. “My viper’s computers are labeling this as a retina scanner. I know we look like people who work in this base, but I doubt the disguise is good enough to fool the scanner.”

  “Don’t you have explosives for this?” Rogan asked. “Just explode the door?”

  “That would set off every alarm in the tower,” Flyer said.

  “Half the alarms in the city,” said Engineer. “I have some highly corrosive acid that might eat its way through these doors, but I bet it would still set off alarms. And it would blow our cover.”

  “Well, I guess they wouldn’t have programmed this scanner in, if it didn’t work,” Rogan said. He leaned down to position his eye before the lens. “How does it work, do I just—” He pressed a button at the base of the panel.

  “Identify for retina scan,” said a flat computer voice.

  A red beam flooded Rogan’s vision. Did he need to keep his own eye open? Would the PNC-generated eye stay open for the scan? His Ranger viper didn’t even have eyes.

  “Error,” the computer said. “Retina scan incomplete. Please stand by for base security.”

  “Leftenant Ericson.” The woman’s voice coming from the speaker was sharp. “What are you doing on the surface? At this hour?”

  Rogan didn’t know what to say. Flyer elbowed him. “Um, we just went out …” The only thing he had going for him now was that his voice disguise included a British accent.

  “You went out to get a pint.” X’s voice came over the channel. “You couldn’t take it down there and needed a break.”

  “… out for a pint,” Rogan said. “We needed a break.”

  “Well, leftenant,” said the woman, “if you think I enjoy a fortnight monitoring security on the graveyard shift, you are sadly mistaken. All of you—yes, you too, Sergeant Benton, Corporal Carson—are in serious trouble. Now because our scanner is on the blink, I have to check you in myself.” The elevator doors slid open and the gamers climbed in. “Have your bloody IDs ready as soon as you step off the lift.”

  “Don’t worry about it, gamers,” X said calmly over their channel. “I’m sending your Polyadaptive Nanotech Cloaks special programming to produce identification cards. Act like you are reaching into your pockets, and when you bring your hands back up, your disguise will appear to be holding a card. Just don’t hand the card to her. The PNC has a very limited range for producing an illusion.”

  When the elevator finally stopped and opened, the three of them stepped out into a rectangular r
oom with concrete walls, floor, and a low ceiling. Fluorescent tube lights hummed above them, casting a dull glow over the British flag and some wooden, high-backed benches by the walls. A large oval-shaped steel hatch with a heavy door was bolted to the concrete at the far end of the chamber.

  A military officer stood waiting for them in a uniform of a shade of gray slightly darker than the walls, captain insignia on her shoulders, shiny black boots, red-gold hair pulled back tightly, and a Glock 17 9mm handgun holstered on her belt. The name on her chest read STAR.

  “You know the regs.” Captain Star folded her arms. “ID cards. Now.” The three disguised gamers held up their illusion IDs. The captain barely looked at them. Apparently the cards were only a formality, and she waved them away. She pointed at Flyer. “Sergeant Benton, I am still waiting on that inventory of the armory. You have enough time to be gallivanting about London but can’t get your work done?”

  Flyer was about to respond, but Captain Star kept going. “And you,” she said to Rogan. “You’re supposed to be on duty in the communications room at zero one. Less than an hour! If you fall asleep at your post, I will catch you, and you will be punished.” To Engineer she added, “One more slipup from you, and I’ll have you do a level-four purge of the secondary and tertiary water filters, along with a complete changeover with the filters in operation now, all by yourself.”

  “We’re really sorry,” Rogan said. He saw the captain’s expression harden further and remembered the military games he had played, adding, “Ma’am.”

  Captain Star seemed to relax a little after that, and Rogan was impressed with how interactive this game was, that they’d figured out how to make this NPC react to his remembering to talk military.

  “I’m on duty in the security room. I need to get back there. But I promise, any more violations from any of you, and you’ll be demoted and reassigned.” She spun on her heel and left through the hatch.

  “Where do we go from here?” Flyer asked quietly.

  Engineer didn’t hesitate but rushed to a computer terminal. A computer data probe emerged from her human-looking finger, plugging into an access point. She stood there for a long time.

  “Jackie?” Flyer asked after a while.

  “Hold on,” said Engineer. “Some serious firewalls on this system. I’m running hacking protocols. It’s pretty much automatic, part of my mod’s onboard computer package. But I can’t just attack their system with full force or I’ll trip alarms.”

  “I get it,” Flyer said. “But if we are in here much longer, that angry woman is going to come back.”

  “Bingo,” Engineer said. “I have the layout of the entire facility. Sending you the map now.”

  A blue-green 3-D holographic image of a series of interconnected rooms popped up at the side of Rogan’s HUD. They had entered on level two of a three-level compound that consisted of modular rooms deep under the Tower of London and the Thames River. Most of the rooms were pressed right next to each other like in any other building, but some, like the screening room they were in now, were connected via giant steel tunnels, pipes with flat floors welded in.

  Level two appeared to be where the crew lived. Through the tunnel was the kitchen and conference module, followed by the rec room and library, then the barracks followed by a latrine module.

  A vertical tunnel from the kitchen/conference room led down to one section of level three, the Queen’s Quarters, probably a private living space for the royal family or other important officials in the event of emergency. The other section of level three was accessed by a ladder going down from the latrine at the back of floor two. That was the largest part of the base, with adjoining modules for a laboratory, workshop, and a large room for an electric generator, air filter, and water purification.

  Level one, the closest to the surface, consisted of three separate module rooms connected by tunnels. Main security was in the center, and from there a tunnel led to the communications room, and another led to the armory.

  “Good work, Jackie,” Flyer said.

  Rogan switched to internal comms. “The Velox Mercury X must be in the communications room or the laboratory. I’m supposed to be on duty in about twenty minutes.”

  “Which means you have less than twenty minutes until the real Lieutenant Ericson shows up,” said Flyer. “I’ll go to the armory. I guess it’s possible the target is locked up there, but maybe I could keep them from getting to their guns in case something goes wrong. Anyway, Captain Star is probably watching us right now, and she’ll be less suspicious if I go to my post.”

  “I guess Corporal Carson works down in the engine room,” said Engineer. “I’ll search the lab on the way there.”

  “If Captain Star is watching us on cameras, she might wonder why the two of you are going to work in the middle of the night,” Rogan said. “And why we’re standing here, saying nothing out loud.”

  “Then we’d better hurry,” Flyer said. “Might have to stun Captain Star.”

  Suddenly there was a high-pitched beep. Static pop and hiss. “—another signal infiltration test. Gamers, if you can hear this, do not say anything. Clap your hands twice.”

  The three gamers looked at one another. It sounded like Takashi. Rogan had spent enough time stuck in the dorms with that guy to recognize his voice anywhere. Finally, all three of them clapped twice. They’d all heard it.

  “Continue the mission like normal,” the intruder voice said.

  “What are you three waiting for?!” X exploded onto the channel. “You’re wasting time!”

  “Right. Let’s get moving,” Rogan said out loud in Lieutenant Ericson’s British accent.

  Putting aside their confusion, the three gamers went through the tunnel into the kitchen module, a slightly larger concrete room with all the basic appliances one would expect, only the rectangular table there was much larger than any of their tables at home, and could easily seat sixteen. Not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves, they were careful to abide by the instruction printed on plaques by every entrance and exit: STANDING ORDERS: CLOSE ALL HATCHES AFTER USE.

  From the kitchen they entered a somewhat cozier room, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on every wall except for a break in one wall for a TV and an ancient PlayStation 4. Here, there were puffy couches and chairs, and two tables for playing cards and games.

  “This is where we split up,” Flyer said internally. She nudged Engineer’s arm. “You going to be OK on your own?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Jackie said out loud. She left the other two at the ladder leading up to level one, and she continued through the next hatch into the dark barracks. Fortunately, she could easily see in the dark as she walked down the central aisle between the two rows of bunk beds. Near the middle she spotted the real Corporal Carson, the man she was imitating. She hoped Captain Star had no cameras watching the barracks, or that if she did, they couldn’t see in the dark.

  Jackie froze when she opened the door at the end of the room and the man in the closest bunk grunted, smacked his lips, and rolled over. Confident he was still asleep, she closed the hatch, passed through the latrine, and headed down the ladder into the laboratory.

  “What are you doing up, Sergeant Benton?” Captain Star said to Shay as she emerged from the hatch into the security room. It was an impressive setup, with nine screens on one wall, rotating camera feeds from the ceilings of nine different rooms in the compound. On another wall, a computer screen displayed the status of alarms and other security systems and environmental controls.

  It took Shaylyn a moment to remember that Captain Star was an advanced NPC and was expecting an answer. “I thought … I mean, I felt bad for breaking the rules. I figured I’d get that inventory done for you as fast as I can.”

  “Don’t think this will get you out of your standard duty shift,” said the captain.

  “No, ma’am,” Shaylyn said.

  Ranger, disguised as Lieutenant Ericson, emerged from the hatch in the security room floor
next. “I’m on duty soon. I might as well get started early.”

  Shay gave Ranger a small nod and went through the hatch and down the tunnel to the armory. A big cement room just like the others, the walls were lined with steel cages filled with weapons, and another row of gun lockers ran down the middle, splitting the space into two aisles. Her viper’s system identified the weapons as she looked at them. A dozen old M4 rifles. Fifteen Glock 17 9mm handguns. Ten Uzi submachine guns. Six third-generation Compact High-Energy Laser rifles with modular power cells and high-resolution targeting scopes. A case of twenty-four fragmentation grenades. A case of twenty-four thermal grenades. Another twenty-four EMP grenades. More weapons on down the line. But no Velox.

  “Oi! What do you think you’re—” The voice that had come from behind her halted as soon as she turned around. Staff Sergeant Benton—the real Staff Sergeant Benton—stood right in front of her, gaping at an exact image of himself staring back at him. “Who are you, then?” He didn’t hesitate but began drawing his gun.

  Rogan entered the communications room. “I know I’m not due to come on duty for a while, but I was already awake. You can go to bed.”

  “Hey, thanks, mate,” the man sitting at the desk behind the computer said. “I had to keep slapping myself in the face to stay awake.” He stood up, stretched, and patted Rogan on the shoulder. “Blimey!” He shook his hand in the air a little. “You been working out, have you? Rock solid, mate.”

  When he was gone and had closed the hatch behind him, Rogan scanned the comm room. From this place the operators had access to radio communications on all frequencies from FM to civilian band to shortwave. A large video camera and professional microphone setup was ready before a wooden desk in front of a British flag backdrop.