GAME OVER
*with apologies to Orson Scott Card*
written 12/07/94
Copyright (C) 1998 Mark Ranel M. Lambo (maramala)
All Rights Reserved.
It was almost twilight, and the contest was nearly over. The battlefield was bathed
with an eerie purplish glow as the large crescent of a blue moon hovered over the dark and
dismal horizon. It was winter, and snow was slowly falling to the ground. The area was
literally littered with the remains of carnage and destruction. Scattered here and there are
ruins of futuristic weapons of war, in the battle to end all battles. Most are ruined and
destroyed, but some are still operational, like a group of six vehicles moving together in
formation, looking more like robotic centurions than gigantic war machines.
Inside one of the great robots called 'mechs, the heads-up display illuminated the
grim face of the pilot studying the area intently. Jerry the pilot cautiously eased his grip
on the accelerator lever. The enemy's out there, somewhere, he thought. He checked his radar.
His allies, the other fellow pilots, were in their own 'mechs at his left, and all of them
moving at the same speed as his. Nothing else of interest to note.
Then he found it: Four telltale blips on the radar screen which indicated two light
stationary defense turrets, one heavy-class 'mech, and the enemy's main bunker. Only two
turrets and one 'mech? This is going to be easy, he thought.
Suddenly, the sky was etched with the parabolic wisps of missiles arcing towards them.
Jerry quickly punched the throttle forward, moving faster, steering with his feet to avoid the
lethal bunker-mounted defense systems. One of the missiles homed in on him, and nearly grazed
his 'mech as he twisted his torso left, then right, then left again to evade the inevitable
autocannon barrages.
Oh, no. Dumb-fires. Too many of them... Can't evade all... must...
Disabling the auto switch, he set the targeting controls to manual, then brought up his
machine gun to bear. Moving wildly, he charged his Grunt, a medium-class 'mech, forward,
directly into the missiles' line of fire. Two of them scored direct hits to his 'mech which his
armor absorbed. In return, he immediately opened fire at the missiles, hitting scores of the
rocket-propelled death-bringers before they could get a clear fix on his position.
Whew, he thought. Piece of cake...
Immediately after that, an explosion on his left jarred him on his seat. His first
thought was that he has taken a direct hit, but then realized that it was actually an explosion
from one of his companions' mechs. Then another explosion on his right. The force of the
second explosion almost toppled the Grunt, and he would have if he haven't corrected his
balance. He didn't have to check his scanners; They didn't even escape in time.
He cursed, banging his fists at the console. They've taken out Paul, his
second-in-command. Composing himself, he then activated his communications link to send
commands. He will have to mourn later. The objective must be fulfilled at all costs.
The missile barrage ended as quickly as it began. The enemy 'mech stood silently,
almost daring them to come any closer...
"Hope, Will, Char, this is Jerry. Do you copy?"
At first, there was only static. Then Will's voice, usually nervous and timid,
hysterically shouted on the receiver.
"Jerry! They've got Rick and Paul! They..."
"I know, Will. Calm down. Hope...?"
"J-Jerry," Hope, the female in their group, slowly spoke. She was sobbing. "God, I-I
can't be-believe it. T-They didn't d-dodge away in t-time. So... so..."
"Ironic." Char interrupted. "We'll have time for regrets later. What next, gang?
Any ideas? Jerry?"
Jerry simply pressed the SEND COMMANDS button, uploading the pre-programmed orders on
the other 'mechs. He then asked, "What do you think?"
"Hmmm... Alpha Strike. Interesting." Char spoke after a while. "Well, we've got
nothing to lose. Let's do it."
"Hope?"
"I... OK, I think."
"Yes, let's go and get those... them!" Will yelled.
"How inspiring," Char commented sarcastically. "I just hope this plan works."
Two of the 'mechs, piloted by Hope and Will, moved away and formed a line behind Char
and Jerry's 'mechs. Char's voice then came on the 'net.
"So... Who'll be the point man, fearless leader?"
"Huh? What do you mean by that?"
"You're the one who's now ordering us around, and that takes good leadership. You're
no longer the lone wolf, Jerry, so don't still act like one. The team needs you."
"Don't push it, Char... You concentrate on the turrets, I'll take out the enemy mech,
and that's all. You got that?"
"Aww... some guys get all the fun. Roger, and good luck, chum."
All four moved together in formation towards the enemy base. Toggling a gear change,
Jerry jumped his 'mech into reverse for an instant to slow down the speed and inertia. He then
shut down propulsion and stopped, while slowly twisting the head left and right. The targeting
crosshairs aimed at Char, and Jerry nudged the 'stick left, moving the cursor right towards
the other 'mech. Kyomaru. The enemy. His name flashed in red as the crosshairs pulsed
brightly. Range: 200 meters.
"It's time," Jerry said to the comlink, "to bring the war to them. Attack!"
Hope and Will opened fire on the turrets' flanks, while at the same time Char charged
at the front. The turrets were then occupied, leaving Jerry to take out the enemy 'mech
himself.
Jerry's fingers immediately snapped the toggles for the Alpha Strike configuration.
Kyomaru's 'mech opened fire on Jerry, and he flinched as the projectiles struck his 'mech's
torso. Jerry retaliated by thumbing his LAUNCH MISSILE button again and again, sending
missile strikes towards Kyomaru. He then watched as the salvos arched towards the enemy 'mech.
Kyomaru stopped firing and tried to evade the attack, but his 'mech was too slow. Jerry's first
barrage of missiles made solid hits on the enemy 'mech's armor, which was slowly softened up.
Jerry then pressed the button again and launched one more missile.
"Sayonara, Kyomaru. For you, it's game over."
Kyomaru's 'mech disintegrated into a bright flash of orange and white. His cockpit, a
Kevlar-reinforced safety shell, blasted away. He will live to fight again. Jerry watched his
'mech's heat scale lower as the heatsinks set into his mech bled away the reactor's temperature.
Alpha Strike. Hit them with more power than what they can dish out. Suicidal, but
effective.
"Jerry. This is Will." Will came on the comlink. "Char's out, but he was able to
escape in time. We got the turrets. Let's go blow the bunker."
"Acknowledged. Group... you all go on ahead. I'm jacking out."
"Jerry..." Hope started to speak, but didn't. "Affirmative. So long."
Jerry pulled off the interface connectors from his temple. He then slowly removed his
helmet, turning off the nexus linkage. The whole surroundings around him immediately changed.
He sat up and looked around.
He was in his control pod in the transmission nexus linkage room of their base. In
2195 AD, war has become so advanced technologically, that the warriors won't have to fight it
out in the battlefield. Using advanced virtual transmitter controllers, they could pilot
robots, drive vehicles, fly aerocraft, and many other tasks without ever leaving their bunker.
The computerized virtual reality effects, invented centuries ago primarily for entertainment,
were so realistic that the pilots would feel like they're in the real thing. Battles could
then be fought in relative safety. But the strain from using such devices would usually
shock the mind, traumatizing the user, sometimes rendering them comatose.
Jerry went to Rick's pod, where medical officers were already there, trying to revive
him. The glazed look in Rick's eyes told Jerry that it's no use, for Rick's as good as dead.
He was numb.
They're dead. They're actually all dead. He didn't have the strength of will to go
to Paul's pod.
"Too bad. He didn't break off connection by 'ejecting'", a technician near him
commented nonchalantly.
He grabbed the tech and started to question him. "You."
"Whu-wha-what, sir?" The surprised tech, shook up, asked.
"How many 'hostiles' were in that enemy bunker? How many people? How many... How
many lives were there? How many human beings! How many! Answer me!"
"I do-don't know what you mean, si-sir..." Flabbergasted and embarrased, the tech
avoided Jerry's piercing gaze. Pilots are an eccentric lot.
"So many lives..." Jerry moved away, head bowed. I've never thought I would really
become this... a killer... it was just a game... just...
A hand came upon his shoulder. Jerry turned around and faced a teary-eyed Hope.
She was from Paul's pod.
"Hope, is it... over?"
"It... It's so sad... Jerry," Hope started to speak. "He... Paul froze up during the
enemy's missile barrage. He was already dead before... Oh, Jerry, I'm so sorry..."
"Hope, I..." Jerry said. "I want to say something..."
"Hey, guys!" Char yelled at them, walking together with Will. "We won! Let's
celebrate! Let's go to the mess hall and grab ourselves a bite to eat. C'mon! My treat!"
"Whatta way to celebrate Christmas..." Will mumbled.
"...Uh, yeah. OK." Jerry answered. He started walking towards the rest of the team,
but Hope stopped him.
"Huh? Hope..."
"What is it you want to say, Jerry?"
"Well, it's just... I mean, is this really worth it? Do we have to do this... thing...
that we do?"
"Jerry... there's a war out there... this is what we have to do... we couldn't just
stand by and let the enemy win," Hope looked at him in the eye. "Technology's not to
blame... it's those who misuse it." She then held his hand. "Jerry..."
"Yes?"
"There's something else too, is there?"
"Ah, er... later. Let's go."
"I understand." Hope winked, then smiled, turning away. "This is not over yet."
As walked away with Hope, Jerry looked back to his two dead friends for the last time,
the people whom he cared about, his comrades-at-arms, his men who didn't make it. They will be
missed. But the battle is not yet over.
Game over, guys. So long.
Somewhere in the corridors, somebody was hummming a lilting tune. And old Christmas
carol, really. Jerry listened to it for a while, then moved on.
Now that he thought about it, Hope was not referring to the war when she said that this
is not over. Jerry shrugged.
-fin-
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