The ride back to base had been predictably dull.

While the command variant of the KA12 Predator was significantly more spacious than the normal combat version, it was still vaguely claustrophobic for longer journeys.

The KA12 was the main battle tank for their faction, the Enclave. It measured 12m long (39ft), 4.2m wide (13.8ft) and only 2.5m (8.2ft) in height. It was both narrower and less tall than their competitors, but out-massed them by a generous margin, weighing in at a devastating (for the roadways) 98 tonnes. The KA12 had not been designed for comfort or subtlety, every aspect of it was unforgiving for the operators and the enemy alike, a tool of uncompromising brutality. This was undoubtedly why the Enclave saw so few outfits running heavy armour, opting instead for fast strike vehicles, capacious APCs and the heavy infantry our faction had become known for.

The KA12C (for command) differed from the stock KA12 in very few ways. It still sported the same main armament choices: 150mm Chemical Cannon (traditional explosive propellant), 150mm Magnetic Cannon or dual 80mm Magnetic Autocannons. Secondary armaments included a roof mounted remotely controlled weapon system (controlled by the commander), coaxially mounted machine gun (controlled by the gunner), a hull-mounted machine gun and two casemate mounted hull weapons (grenade launchers in our case) were controlled by the remaining crew (loader/driver/radio operator, as needed). The way it differed however was in an enlarged turret, gaining a third of a meter in height and elongating from the back. Undoubtedly the most telling feature was the small forest of antennae, commo and sensors sprouting from the top of the vehicle.

To fill the void I found myself listening to music, playing with the consoles (double checking the route and my inbox) and paying half an ear to the outfit voicecom. No combat, no rules, it could get pretty loud in there from time to time.

The game did a truly impressive job of modeling the smell of stale air, the light discomfort of muscle cramps and the jolting of the broken road transmitted through a virtually padless utilitarian seat one could only imagine had been designed by an enemy spy.

Other than the occasional report of artillery, or the rare glimpse of an aerial dogfight in the distance, there was not much to distract us from the passing terrain.

Asphalt, chewed up by countless columns of vehicles stretched off ahead of us. Rolling hills and thickets of trees occasionally broken up by the odd town, checkpoint or old weatherworn battle zone.

Finally our column approached the HIVE, the capital city for the Enclave and but one of the many reasons the other factions nicknamed us ants.

Megalithic black buildings brutalised the sky, violating the integrity of the thick band of smog. The towers were made up of reflective composites and glass, resembling hundreds of mile high obsidian shards. Pollution, humidity and dust rendered fine detail largely unobservable.

We drove towards the western depot, a collection of squat looking hardened concrete buildings, peeling paint and stained by acid rain and rust.

A heavy concrete wall shrouded the facility, broken only by a metal covering for a firing port every few feet.

Immensely thick metal gates slid to open as we approached and a pair of bored looking NPC guards waved us through. Their armour was rounded and chitinous looking, shiny black composites reflecting the light. In combat they would engage one of the loaded camouflage patterns, but here in depot uniform was the socially appropriate setting.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The column broke apart as vehicles returned to vehicle pads to dematerialise, their constituent components going back into the depot’s resource pool and our credits being refunded, minus a service fee.

Our vehicle pulled up to an empty pad, I swiveled my chair to the back of my compartment and keyed the memory dump sequence. It generally made no difference if you dumped the data and logs before despawning the vehicle, however there were some illicit methods of retrieving it and in this game knowledge kills. The progress bar crawled to completion before the light cycled to green that done I keyed off the various consoles and systems.

I crawled through a gap in my compartment into the loader’s space, then grabbed a bar and slid through an open panel down near the deck into the driver’s lower fighting compartment. From there it was a “simple” matter of threading past the seating and control panels, before exiting the vehicle through a barely man sized hatch in the side of the tank.

Fire? Yeah, no, we’d be crispy.

The driver squirmed back in and drove the vehicle onto the pad as we walked back.

The troops were saying their goodbyes, then they either logged off or went about random errands in town.

“Guess it’s time to get us paid.” I said to myself as I headed with a group of guildies to one of the squat buildings.

The inside of the building consisted of one medium sized room, bare concrete for walls and filled only with machinery, completely utilitarian. Large cylindrical spawn chambers lined the walls and in the middle of the room there was a double row of terminals for equipment or loadout modifications.

I made my way to a spawn tube, faster to despawn than walk into the city proper.

Lean back, push button, flash of light and goodbye corporeal existence.

——

After a brief period of darkness my vision filled with a map of the conflict zone.

I brought up the equipment menu and chose my low threat loadout: bare minimum survival essentials, maximum comfort. Even in the HIVE one just does not go unarmed, perhaps especially in the HIVE.

Loadout 04 - Low threat Torso Shirt: Tactical, Navy (Cloth) Legs Pant: Tactical, Navy (Cloth) Feet Boots: Tactical, Black (Leather/Synthetic) Head None Armour Low Profile Vest, Black (L3 Prot.) Sidearm Pz2551 Auto-Pistol (Silenced) Main Arm. KA401 Carbine (Silenced) Gadget 1 None Gadget 2 None

Closing the equipment menu I then panned over to the HIVE and selected the city, this brought up a multi tiered three dimensional rendering of the city. When one considers the size, complexity and interconnectivity of the place, navigation was a three dimensional puzzle.

I selected a spawn point in one of the lower levels of the Hive, Market District MD012. With a press of ‘Confirm’ I find myself in a claustrophobic acrylic tube, hazy from scratches, cracks and general wear. The cacophony of the market street filled my ears gradually as the door slid open and I adjusted to my new reality.

‘Off to the Black Sun.’ I thought as I stepped out.

Electroluminescent light painted the rain and scum slick streets a deep red as I wound my way through the seamless black press of players and npcs. There were other colours of light amongst the signage, perhaps the game just preferred a more macabre atmosphere.

Like a salmon in a river of oil I swam toward my destination.

A few minutes later I approached a barely marked building. Its design was of a seemingly industrial heritage: steel, brick and plate glass, all tinted black again.

The building was rundown without much of a crowd out front, the few stood and chatted amongst themselves largely ignoring the passersby.

The only real clues as to the identity or purpose of the building were the hollow black outline of a holographic sun faintly visible above the doorway and the perceptible thumping of base in my chest emanating from within.

I am no hero, but I will find my Da5id here. (Ed. Snowcrash ref. No. 2 for those keeping score at home.)

Black Sun was a 2k retro futurist club, and one of the main points of contact for my clan, due in large part to the no nonsense attitude of the proprietor, unsurprisingly a player given the erudite theme. No one started shit in BS unless they really meant it.

“Heh no b.s. in BS” I chuckled to myself.

Whatever, it’s funny to me.

I opened the unmarked steel doors and slid into the darkened entry. Greeting the two guards we exchanged a few words, then I made my way to my usual haunt to await our benefactor.