5

Figuring out which side was which was not too hard. Black uniforms on one side, multiple colors on the other. Ten on six. Rebels are always the underdogs, right? Now and then I’d like to see the “Brave imperialists holding out against insurmountable odds by the brutal rebellion.”

Was it the easy decision it presented itself as? Was this Federation the source of law and order in the galaxy, or were they tyrants? Were the Separatists noble freedom fighters, or ruthless terrorists? The truth could have been anything. No, my choice was about more pragmatic issues. On one hand, side with the winners. On the other, side with whoever could help me more. Federal troops already had the numbers advantage. Me joining in would only go so far to win favor. No, when you need their help, the underdogs will always appreciate you more.

With that covering the strategic decision, the next question was more tactical in nature. What did I need to do? I was essentially at the centerline of the field. I got down in what grasses I had available to me and crawled forward. It was time to put some of those Sneak points to use, and maybe get some more while I was at it.

The outnumbered six were mostly holding ground, crouched down low or just plain belly down. The Federals moved forward slowly, crouching low. Some would fire while the others rushed to a cover spot. Classic bounding overwatch. What can I say, I read a lot. Well, I read more before prison, but still.

The Federals would move past my position. Crossfire it was. I crept forward more until I found a vantage point I liked, happily gaining +1 sneak (6). The rifle display showed forty-six shots before reloading. It looked like the range would be fine. I steadied the rifle and aimed. The Federals moved in a disciplined manner: fire, move, switch. Fire, move, switch. There was always enough firing to keep the Separatists from getting good shots off. Since nobody was firing at me yet, so I didn’t have that disadvantage.

Three raised up to fire, and I started with the one on the right. I was rewarded with a floating, “Critical Hit!” and his Health bar suffered accordingly. He and the guy in the middle turned as I missed the middle one, despite a brief notification of “+1 Rifle (1).”

Laser fire lanced across the valley in all directions as the rebels took full advantage of the distraction to fire on running federalist soldiers. Federalists fired back on the run, but their health bars seemed to be showing more abuse than the rebels.

I took a “grazing hit” to my right arm, for 25 HP, so either they had wimpier rifles--which I doubted--or a graze was a half damage shot. If there was some random element to damage, I hadn’t seen it yet, which was suspicious. I supposed the possibility that laser weapons did more or less fixed damage, while melee weapons might be more random. Not that I was thinking that during the actual fighting, of course.

I got off some more shots, missing more than hitting, as soldiers tried to find the compromise between ducking behind cover and staying in formation. Each group of three seemed to stick together, leaving their leader identifiable. Whether killing him would affect the rest or not I didn’t know, but he certainly had to be worth more XP.

But before I could even get started on him I had to deal with the group of three whose attention I’d drawn. You know, by shooting one of them in the back pretty hard. All were hurt more than I was, but one of them only barely. That still seemed like solid three-to-one odds, which I was not thrilled with. Oh, for a grenade, right?

They were advancing slowly, although still at longer range. I had some time before they were on top of me, but only so much. Maybe if I had started in Superhero World I’d have more powerful claws, in both hands, and some kind of nifty area effect attack with swooshing visual effects. Then I could leap at them, probably covering the distance in one jump.

Jump! I forgot I had that. That had to give me some tactical advantage. I took another aimed shot, hoping for a headshot on the grounds that it ought to do some kind of extra damage, and got him, clean in the gut. He stumbled a step and dropped about half the health he had left. I ducked my head down against their counter shots and snuck quick peeks in both directions.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

No boulders in sight. Low brush, tall grasses, and the occasional tree. Some of the trees were big enough to cower behind. A couple were maybe big enough to get up into. Would that give me a high-ground advantage, or just leave me trapped in a place I couldn’t dodge without falling?

More shooting to do before figuring that out.

One rose slightly from his crouch and probably pulled the trigger. Mostly he shook his gun in frustration. Out of ammo or… jammed? Could a laser rifle jam? Malfunction, then, maybe. Not the most reassuring thought either. If his could, mine probably could, too. Pistol and claws against three--two?--rifles wasn’t any better odds.

But his delay gave me a valuable opportunity. I lined up careful aim and fired like mad. Classic button-mashing where you just hit a button over and over until something dies. Several shots missed, but he never fired back before he fell, dead.

+200 XP (1200 total)

His two buddies weren’t stupid, and they took full advantage of my distraction. By the time I caught on they had separated and gotten a lot closer. The more I focused on one, the more his partner would have an easier time gunning for me. And this was the tutoral? Sheesh!

I was starting to think the game wanted me to pick the easier fight. There was probably an important lesson in there somewhere, but first there was some more important learning about killing paired hunters.

Hunter. That’s what I was supposed to be. If they were going to fight like the soldiers they were, I needed to fight like a hunter. That meant smarter, for one thing. I had the high ground, and I had a jumping boost they didn’t know about. I fired off some shots a little wild to distract them while I scoped out the terrain again. There, a low dip. From above, not anything to notice. But it would give me cover from downhill. That was an improvement already.

I took another graze, and a pack of misses, on my way before I dove into it, hitting soft ground hard. Not hard enough to take damage, apparently, but it still hurt. I rolled over to edge, glad to have more Agility than I would claim in real life, and took my first aimed shot. That got me another “Critical Hit!” notification, along with “+1 Rifle (2),” and finished that one off for another 200 XP. I was glad I picked the more injured one first.

The other one fired but less of me was exposed now. He was closer, maybe 30 meters or so. More button mashing commenced as bits of dirt exploded to rays of super-hot laser light. Or whatever it was. All I knew was the rifles shot red rays of burny pain.

Most of my shots went wild. Some of them hit him as he advanced, and I got him pretty low on health before the gun stopped firing.

Zero, the display under the sight taunted. Crud. I ducked down and back so he couldn’t see me, and I drew my pistol. His head would come over the ridge, and I’d plug it. Or put a hole in it, anyway. I had everything lined up, so ready, so proud of myself. I was hurt below half, but I was pretty sure one more hit and he was mine.

What I saw was not a crew-cut, helmetless head. What I saw was a smaller thing, about fist-sized, that bounced on the ground and bumped off my forehead.

Grenades in this game, at least the explosive ones I’d seen so far in Space Opera World--yeah, yeah, the one, but still--were grey spheres with one black stripe. This one sat in the grass inches from my nose.

Military people probably have some special things they’re trained to do in situations like these. Pick it up and throw it, maybe. Or pray, maybe. As a proper Manly-Man-Hero-Guy (™) I grabbed it up, rolling up to my feet in an impressive display of ground gymnastics. I threw it just past him and let his own body shield me from the blast.

Okay, no. That’s not what I did. What I did was far less manly. You ever seen someone startled when a fly or a bee landed on their nose? And they did this spastic thing where they’re all, “Ah! Ah! Git it away”? Yeah. It was kinda like that. I flailed away with both hands, batting it away and over the ridge. But it did get over the ridge before it blew.

The ridge sheltered me from some of it. After the noise and concussion battered me and might have basically stripped off my face from the feel of it, I was left with four (4) HP, and a flashing, very short Health indicator. I also couldn’t see anything that wasn’t part of the game interface, and my ears were ringing.

I waited for the end. What else could I do? I couldn’t hear footsteps over the stupid tinnitus, and I couldn’t see anything. I still felt around for the pistol, which I found. For all the good it would do me.

My Health bar ticked up. Black turned to gray. The Health bar ticked up again, and the gray became different shades of gray. And then I could see, and the hissing static in my ears faded away. I poked my head up over the ridge and into the valley.

+200 XP (total 1600)