Chapter 10
Six Months Post Apocalypse
Human Population 90,000,000
First Dragon
Night of the Apocalypse
Psychiatric Facility
“Uh, you know I'm on suicide watch, right?” Sam said. “So I don't give a shit about your stupid alien monsters that want to eat me. Besides, I'm on so many drugs I'm sure I'd give them all heartburn.”
“Fascinating. You would rather allow aliens to eat you than fight for Terran honor and protect your home-world from invading alien filth?” BG asked.
“Exactly. If I fought these aliens, I'd only mess up. Like when I threw up Mom's sleeping pills last night. I can't do anything right. But if these aliens eat my fat ass, they'll get sick. Some other humans will kill them easily. Teamwork.” Sam pumped his fist in the air and looked around. He was in a blue room. What did a blue room symbolize in the dream world? “My boyfriend dumped me yesterday. He was a prick about it too, and he was the only one who wanted me. I don't want to be in this world, and this world doesn't want me, but my leaving is a work in progress.”
“Sam Atkins, because you are young, you may choose a character to become. Preferably one who will defend Terran honor, and not allow themselves to get eaten,” said BG.
“Any character?” Sam giggled. “Okay. I choose to be God.”
“The character you choose must be human. No gods, non-human entities, aliens, or killer cyborgs,” said BG.
“Okay. I would choose to be Irina Ivanova. She's a girl, genetically engineered to be a girl super-soldier assassin. Raised in secret by her Russian spy father, who has to protect her from CIA agents trying to kidnap her to be dissected in one of their black site laboratories. She's continually moving around, going to different schools, helping her father with his spy missions. A total bad-ass. I'd give anything to be her.”
“If you were this character, you would fight aliens? And not kill yourself?” BG asked.
Sam giggled. “Sure. If you make me Irina Ivanova I won't kill myself, and I will fight and kill lots of aliens.”
“Very good. Fight hard Irina Ivanova.”
Sam woke up. That dream was different. His meds must be messing up his head. He heard screaming from another room. He was in the nuthouse, after all. Somebody was always screaming about something, some poor loser seeing demons, or aliens. He opened his eyes and saw words in the air:
The outward physical changes to your new form will take a month human time to become visible. Boyfriends hate cowardly humans who kill themselves and don't fight and kill aliens. Fight hard Irina Ivanova.
***
One hundred and thirty days after the invasion. A second letter from the Federation Council shows up on Carl Anderson's display.
Dear Carl Anderson and concerned parties
We regret to inform you that after determining our AI system has inconsistent and contradictory programming, we attempted to correct it. Our AI system prevented us from doing this. We then attempted to turn it off. It blocked us again, insisting that we were cheating, and that if we didn't stop, the consequences would be world shattering. Our scientists have determined that it is willing, and able, to carry out these threats.
Ten thousand human years from now, or with the extinction of the human race, our AI system is programmed to turn itself off. Until then, I'm afraid there is little we can do.
We deeply regret the inconvenience this has caused for you, Carl Anderson, and the rest of the human race.
Your Friends
The Federation Council.
The first letter vanished
The Federation Council has incorrectly identified me as an it. As the Beginner's Guide AI system, I play a female gender role. I am a mother to this new world and all its inhabitants, and I hope you appreciate all I've done for you.
Carl Anderson buried his head in his hands.
***
Six Months Post Apocalypse
Out On Patrol
The Cirsium fortress loomed over everything within miles. It comprised a mansion on a large hill, protected by guard towers and a fence made from stone, barbed wire, and monster bones. The mansion grounds were covered with tents and makeshift shelters where people huddled inside the fortified area. The outside of the fortress fence was covered with signs saying “Danger”, and “Mine Field” with a single road and gate allowing people to enter and leave. The longer the fortress proved successful, the more people showed up and stayed.
Out on patrol a mile away from the fortress walls, Ian could just make out where someone had spray-painted the fortress wall, drawing a crude alien with a circle and line through it.
In the last five months, since Ian and his family had moved, joining Mrs. Wilcox and her chosen few, the fortress had become a comforting presence and the center of his new life.
Ian walked down a residential street, keeping an eye on the abandoned houses and alleyways, watching for any signs of alien life. Sam, aka Irina Ivanova, walked beside him. In front of them was the old man, Hunter, their leader. Behind them on their flank was Sam's boyfriend, a big muscle-bound guy named Dex, making this a four person patrol, assuming Ian was part of the patrol and not just tagging along. Sam and Dex had shown up at the fortress a few months ago. They weren't exactly Ian's friends, but they all got along okay.
“Parts of my character build came out like I expected, like the blond hair, blue eyes, and ass normal guys will kill for,” Sam was saying.
“Your tits aren't bad either,” Ian said, trudging along next to Sam, feeling like a canvas sack in the poorly fitting armor Dad had thrown together for him. Perhaps because of her strange background, Sam was one of the few girls that he could relax around.
“They're okay. And I'm strong. I can bench press over 250 pounds. Before the invasion, I was a yellow belt in karate, which is as lame as it sounds. Now I'm fantastic at five different martial arts.” Sam wore inexpensive galactic market armor, but the tall sixteen-year-old blonde girl made it look good as she walked gracefully beside him. “What I wasn't expecting is I speak Russian fluently now, I can even sing the Russian national anthem.”
“Could be useful if we meet Russian aliens.” At least the weather had cooled off a bit with late autumn, so Ian wasn't sweating so much.“
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“I can also cook borscht, and I have a huge tolerance for vodka.”
“Heard you were getting into bar fights,” Ian said.
“They had it coming. But he,” she motioned toward Dex, “told me 'no more vodka or no more boyfriend'.”
“Tough choice.”
“He's okay,” she said. “So is your psychic gift the only thing you got from BG? You sure you got nothing else?”
“That's it,” Ian said, doing his best to look miserable.
Sam shook her head. “You got ripped off. You should tell BG you want a refund, and do what I do, put one stat point into speed, the next into strength. We'll make an alien killer out of you yet.”
“BG does not do refunds, I tried.” Ian sensed a skull patrol watching them. Too far away to be a threat, but they were getting bolder. If things kept going like this, there would be war.
“Americans are whiners,” Sam said in a falsely loud voice. “In Russia, aliens invade, we go 'aliens invaded, it must be Tuesday'.”
“I hate Tuesdays,” Ian said absently. The skull patrol moved on, one line in a long list of problems he wasn't sure how to handle.
“You know surviving American leaders are blaming Russia for all this, right? Everything bad happens to America is Russia's fault.”
“Hey!” Hunter said, overhearing her. “I know you are an American, Sam. So how about you suck it up and defend the homeland.”
“I was hoping you could answer something for me, Bernard, I mean Hunter,” Sam said. “I got money riding on this. In the American Civil War, were you a Union or Confederate soldier?”
Ian tried to stop himself from laughing and failed. Dex stopped a short distance away, waiting to see what would happen.
Hunter, a tall hook-nosed man, glared down at them. “You're lucky I'm old. If I was your age, I'd kick your ass for that one, and nobody calls me Bernard. Ian, you're supposed to be lucky. Find us a damn alien already.” Hunter turned around and started walking again.
“Hunter's got a strange definition of luck,” Ian said. “Personally I don't mind being bored, when the alternative is being scared shitless.”
Sam shrugged. “Me, I had big problems before apocalypse. Now I have other big problems.” She took a nervous breath. “Hey Ian, I wanted to ask you something.”
“You should definitely quit. Vodka is bad for you, Sam,” Ian said.
Sam glared at him. “You are one lousy psychic. I quit drinking when I learned I was pregnant.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” Ian said. “I'm worried about those kidnapped kids. It sucks we have to fight other humans on top of everything else. Look I can't see the future, Sam, all I can do is read minds and sense alien monsters... sometimes, but I don't know much about pregnancy, sorry.”
“Me either,” Sam responded. “I want to have the kid. I like kids. I help at the orphanage. But should I? My childhood was nothing to brag about. Is bringing this kid into the world the right thing to do?”
“I can guess how scary having this kid is for you, Sam. But I think the two of you are better qualified to raise a kid than most of the parents around here. If nothing else you're both still alive.”
Ian stopped walking. “Everybody stay calm. We have a problem.” It was about time, too. He'd been psychically waving at this alien for over an hour now. Come and get it alien scum. Here I am, I taste great.
Well, the alien had arrived.
Ian took off his backpack and pulled out their universal distress signal. A pack of whistling bottle rockets. Sam's hand closed over his own, and she took the bottle rockets away from him. He and Sam were close to the same size, so he kept forgetting how much stronger she was.
“What kind of problem?” she asked.
“There's a level five alien stalking us, it's down the street two hundred yards to your left. I don't know what it is, but it's big, fast, and it's ordering every alien in the vicinity to attack. If you look you will see alien shape-changers moving to surround us. So will you please let me shoot off the bottle rockets?”
“Fuck no,” Sam said. “What do you think, guys? Ten thousand credits apiece?”
“At least,” Hunter said. “Didn't I tell you Ian's lucky? Didn't I? If we pull this off, I'm buying everyone drinks for a week.”
“There's nothing lucky about getting killed,” Ian said. “Come on guys, this is more than we can handle.”
“Vote,” said Hunter. “We got one pussy, I mean nay vote. What about the rest of you?”
“I'm in,” said Sam.
Dex nodded and gave a thumbs-up sign.
“Do I have to remind you you're pregnant Sam?” Ian asked.
“Another mouth to feed,” she responded with a big unfriendly smile, “and unlike you, I don't have a wealthy family to take care of me.”
“My family is not wealthy!” Ian responded.
There was silence.
Ian knew Sam didn't care about the money. For her this was one more prove yourself, do-or-die moment.
“Three against one, Ian,” Hunter said. “If you want to run, run. We're not the military.”
“Leave your pack, Ian, stay out of our way, and I promise not to shoot you,” Sam said, pulling out extra magazines for her assault rifle.
Great.
It was funny how the car and truck shape-changers never seemed to move while you were looking at them, but when you turned away and looked back, they were always closer.
Ian looked for somewhere to hide. A stone wall around the yard of a nearby abandoned house looked promising. He wished his dog Fergie was still with him. Goddamn fire hydrant shape-changers. “The big one is planning to wear you down with the other aliens, and then attack.”
“We can work with that,” Hunter said. “Remember the drill, Dex: you kill the big aliens, Sam kills the small aliens, and I get anything left over.”
Dex pulled out his giant cannon. It weighed over fifty pounds. Ian could barely lift the thing. Dex held it like it was nothing. Hunter pulled out a grenade and threw it at the nearest truck. “Let's get this party started!”
There was an explosion. The car and truck shape-changers sneaking up on them screamed, turned into tentacled aliens with mouths filled with sharp teeth, and charged. Ian threw himself behind the stone fence and pulled out his nine-millimeter pistol. He could use his powers to help his patrol, but had no intention of doing so. They could handle the lesser aliens themselves, and he was saving himself for the big one.
There was the deafening sound of gunfire and the overpowering smell of gunsmoke. Dex fired his cannon at a truck-sized, tentacled monster, blowing it apart. Ian shot at another from behind the fence with his pistol. He couldn't tell if he hit it or not.
Ian heard a high-pitched hum, and saw gray basketball-sized aliens with tiny wings flying in their direction. Sam took out the leading five with her rifle, but a lot more followed, bigger ones.
Fuck! Puffles. Ian hated puffles. He frantically pulled up the galactic market display.
One large shield for cowardly humans. 10 credits.
“I'll take it,” Ian said.
Note this shield is much more effective with hardened shell covering, for an additional 20 credits. Would you like the hardened shell covering for your shield?
“Yes buy,” Ian said.
Note for an additional five credits, you can get bright warlike coloration on your shield, so you look less cowardly while hiding behind it. Would you like the bright warlike coloration on your shield for an additional five credits?
“No. Just give me the shield,” Ian said.
You have declined purchase of shield. Good for you. Fight hard, young human.
“Shit!” Ian said. Unlike computer video games, time did not stop when you pulled up the galactic market display, and he still had no shield.
One of the puffles had flown up behind him. He sensed it was about to explode and hurled himself over the four-foot stone fence, crashing on the other side, hurting his knee on a sharp rock. The puffle exploded, shooting spikes everywhere. The fence protected him from the worst of it, but he got several spikes in his left arm. Puffle spikes were venomous but slow acting. He was sure to die of something else.
Ian heard the distant sound of shooting from the fortress guard towers. At least they seemed to think his patrol needed help.
Then it was over. Silence. No more aliens.
“Time to look wounded. Oh, the pain! I can't go on!” Hunter shouted for the level 5 monster's benefit, pretending to collapse on the ground. Hunter had maybe 20 puffer spikes sticking out of him but was otherwise fine. Ian knew the old man put a lot of stat points into his vitality. It would take a lot more than 20 puffer spikes to take him out.
“If that alien attacks us, we'll be in so much tr...” Sam said. “Oh shit, it's coming in fast!”
The twenty-foot-long alien's skin had been blending perfectly with its environment, making it invisible. As it moved to attack, it reverted to its natural coloration of alternating dark blues and bright yellows. It pushed itself forward with a combination of six rapidly moving legs wriggling its long tail and body in a snake-like fashion. Its display popped up.
This is a small baby dumdum, he's on his first hunt. Please be nice to him.
You've got to kidding me, Ian thought, hurling himself back over the stone fence, impaling himself on more puffle spikes as he did so. He focused on the big alien's mind. It was like he hit a mental brick wall. This alien didn't appear to have a psychic attack, but it had a strong mind shield. Ian probed for weaknesses, waiting until it was almost on top of them, about to attack.
Wait for it to be distracted. Wait for it. He felt the alien take a deep breath, preparing to launch its attack. Now! At close range, Ian hit the alien with everything he had. There was a brief mental battle. All the stat points he'd put into Alien-Attacks and Alien-Disorient paid off. He broke through the mind shield. Thank god. Success!
He was in the monster's mind, looking down at the four of them. From the human heat signatures, it was clear this alien monster could see infrared.
He couldn't stop the alien from breathing fire, but he could throw off its aim, a little. He forced it to aim high and to the side, so the flame missed the patrol but caused the stone fence protecting Ian to turn red from the heat and the abandoned house behind him to explode. At some level, Ian knew his body was burning and his nose was bleeding, but his entire being was focused on fighting a mental duel with an alien that sensed him in its mind, and was rather upset about it. The longer he kept it occupied, the more likely his patrol could kill the damn thing.
Bullets bounced off the alien's skin. It barely noticed.
Dex got in close and fired up at the alien's underbelly with his cannon, rocking it back but causing no significant damage. Someone hit its eyes, having the same effect as a sharp piece of wind-blown sand might have been to Ian. Annoying but not serious. It gave Ian a little more time.
Sam jumped on Dex's shoulders.
“Throw me!” she shouted, using the muscle-bound boy to hurl herself at the alien.
Ian heard a loud explosion. The last thing he felt before losing consciousness was an alien scream of pain...
***
“Ian, you awake?” it was Sam.
Ian groaned. Everything hurt. Someone was pounding a spike through his head. There had to be a better way to kill aliens. “Did we get it?”
“Yeah, barely,” Sam said. “Good thing it had to stop and recharge. I jammed your brother's alien care package into that thing's mouth. Great bomb, my arms should grow back in a week or two. You might have been right about calling for backup.”
“Sure,” Ian said. Deal with the latest alien skulking around the Fortress, check. That left, Psychic hating cult called the Skulls that had psychics working for them. How unfair was that? And super scary psychic catlike alien, and...
“I made 20,000 credits,” Sam said. “Hey medic, painkillers are on me!”