Soda Pop Soldier. Nick Cole
After a moment Dietrich calls out “All clear” over the chat and we’re in. Then, “Hey, we’re in Operations!”
I crawl through the last of the ducting and drop down into a small room with two doors. The marines are already opening them, guns aimed outward.
“If this is anything like our mods,” says Apone, “then we only need to seal the two doors that lead into Medical. Those and the duct we just came through.”
“Yo, heads up, there’s a materials station here!” calls out someone named MarinePvtDrake.
“Good, grab it and start sealing these doors, Marines,” orders Apone.
I walk out into Operations and find desks, displays, and transparent walls. The marines are already welding steel plates across the two main doors to the section. I see AwesomeSauce bent over a nearby display. Its light turns her avatar’s face a soft blue.
“We’ve got feeds on most of the facility,” she says as I approach. “They’re everywhere. The aliens, that is. WonderSoft is probably in the living quarters section but I can’t get in there. So … if they made it, they’re there.” She snaps her bubble gum. “What now, Question?” I check my CommandPad.
We’re down to AwesomeSauce, Apone, Drake, Dietrich, Frost, and a guy named Crowe whom I haven’t heard from much.
That makes seven of us.
The goal of the TFD match is to destroy the other team’s defenses before they destroy yours. With the aliens surrounding everything, that means if teams don’t have a fortress, then they don’t have much of a chance at survival. WonderSoft is on the other side of the station. Between us and them, there are … a whole lot of those things. I watch the monitor as one of the aliens drags the body of a Softie avatar down a dimly lit grated corridor.
“Can we hurt them from here?” I ask AwesomeSauce. “Using the computer system?”
She’s silent for a moment.
“Nah, doesn’t look like it.”
I’m thinking.
“Listen,” I say over the chat. “Obviously you guys are fans of the movie. I’ve never seen it.” I pause, waiting for the various shouts of incredulity to pass. Then, “Does anyone have an idea how we can hurt WonderSoft? I mean, anything from the movie.”
No one says anything.
“In the movie, the atmosphere processor blows the whole place up,” offers Apone. “We could blow ourselves up. Not much use in that, I guess.”
“Yeah, kinda defeats the purpose, Sarge,” says Frost.
“I don’t suppose anyone’s got a Bunker Buster streak? We could drop it on the living quarter section and take them out or at least expose them to the aliens.”
“I got a Special Delivery,” says Drake. “But we need to be out in the open for that. We could use the weapons package option it comes with, though. That’d be real nice right about now.”
And I’ve got Hang in There, Lil’ Buddy. My final streak. A dropship escort for two minutes. But we’re inside. What’s it going to do, fire through the windows?
“I haven’t seen this old movie either,” says AwesomeSauce. “Why do they blow up this atmosphere thing?”
“Oh, they don’t mean to,” says Dietrich. “Just happens after a really awesome firefight when they get ambushed by warriors … those things. The aliens. They damage it when they walk into the nest.”
“The nest?” I ask.
“Yeah, that’s where the alien queen makes her nest.”
“What if … ,” I’m thinking out loud. “What if that’s map number three? What if this map TDF match has an inherent destruction feature? The aliens. They destroy your fortress, forcing you to find and move into the third map before that happens. It’s probably a matter of time before …”
There’s a dull thump on one of the doors. Everyone swivels, guns pointing at the door, watching the dent that’s just appeared there. Then another.
“They’re here,” whispers Apone.
“Yeah … matter of time,” says Frost. “We better do something fast ’cause if they get in here, it’s gonna be a real short meet and greet.”
“I think this isn’t the game,” I say. Everybody’s still watching the door. It’s dimpling inward even more. Everyone’s slowly backing away, putting desks and displays between themselves and the rapidly deforming door. “We’ve got to get out to that atmosphere processor. That’s where the next map is. The aliens will destroy both fortresses in a matter of time. We don’t need to wipe out WonderSoft, the aliens will do it for us. Drake, have you unlocked the vehicle upgrade on that Special Delivery?”
“Played for three years … what do you think?”
“Good, call it in and drop it right outside those windows there.” I point out into the dark landscape of wind and rain. I can see shadows moving out there among the rocks and debris. There’s nothing human avatar–shaped about them.
“Uh, we can’t get through those windows with just rifles and no explosives, genius. That’s a transparent wall. Guns are useless. We need, at least, a 30 mm chain gun or explosives,” says Dietrich.
Seams are beginning to appear in the door leading to Medical.
“Hang on … ,” I say, activating my third streak. “It’s about to get real hairy for a couple of seconds.”
A seam in the door’s thick welded-plate metal rips open like a shirt. One of the aliens sticks its shiny black bullet-shaped head in. Its grinning jaws snap open as another set of smaller teeth shoot out, dripping thick saliva.
I fire a quick burst and the thing’s head explodes, its jaws still snapping as the body goes limp.
“I think ‘hairy’ might be an understatement, Question,” whispers AwesomeSauce.
“Yeah … we’re, like, done,” adds Drake. “I got sixty rounds left and …”
“Call in that vehicle now, Drake. Do it! Select the APC!” I shout over the chat. Meanwhile I’m dialing in my last streak. I set the spinning red target hologram on the door the aliens are about to come through.
“Ready, everyone … you know the drill. Conserve your ammo. Check your targets. Everyone stay frosty and we’ll get through this,” says Apone over the metallic pounding and concussive thuds. The door is coming apart.
“Escort Gunship, inbound,” announces the game.
“Heads down, everyone!” I yell over the chat.
The aliens are crawling through, tails whipping, teeth gnashing, claws reaching, opening and closing. Drake begins to fire.
I turn to see the dropship lowering beneath storm-leaden clouds and the darkness outside, swiveling as it hovers beyond the large windows. Guns extend, centering on the spinning red targeting reticle I’ve placed over the door the aliens are coming through.
“Get down!”
The dropship’s 30 mm cannons whir to life, smashing the explosive-resistant window to shards, sending a hazy stream of ball ammunition right into the splitting door. Aliens explode, ejecting yellow acid and greenish guts everywhere.
“Drake, call that APC in now!”
“Done.”
The spinning guns of the gunship wind down for a moment, waiting for a new batch of targets.
I shout, “Move now! Everyone through the window and out to the APC.” Aliens are still climbing through the Swiss-cheesed metal opening that was the door to Medical. The guns of the Albatross spool up again as AwesomeSauce