“Wind. I think it’s time to do the honors.”
“Oh, finally, thank you thank you thank you.”
Wind drops our incognito cloaks. Normally, players have to operate under their actual username, but there’s an endgame item that allows players to hide themselves for a twelve-hour period, and I’ve always considered it one of the more elegant aspects of Infinite Game. If you’re not in endgame, you don’t need the item, because no one cares who you are, but if you’re good enough to stockpile it, you’re good enough to need to hide when you’re interacting with everyone else.
We have enough incogs to last a decade.
On the nav plot, Ashura the Terrible, Alhazred’s Wailing Wind, and Slenderwoman suddenly burst into existence, the burning green emblem of the SunJewel Warriors searing above our ships. Together, we’ve accounted for over ninety thousand kills in this facet alone. My stream erupts into an excited chatter of laughter, betting, and reaction memes, which I ignore with the ease of long practice. The other team responds immediately.
Two ships simply vanish, willing to drop out and pay the quitter queue penalty. One was an initial target for Slend, but I trust her to pick another.
“THAT’S RIGHT, FUCKERS, YOU BETTER QUEUE QUEUE,” Wind screams on the public channel, firing off a full spread of three proton torpedoes. Three other enemy ships fall out of formation, turning as if to flee, even though there’s nowhere to go. This encounter’s locked and loaded.
Slend and I fire our own blast of torpedoes, initial salvos away. Five ships puff out of existence, but a wall of destruction streaks back at us. Our countermeasures spew forth—jamming devices, cartwheeling mini-mine chaff, decoy beacons mimicking the signature of an actual fighter. We corkscrew out and away to confuse target lock.
“—oly shit it’s Ashura what the fuck what the fuck what the—”
xXx420AshuraREALxXx is blessedly vaporized by a proton torpedo, comms silenced on death, but at least he ate up six torpedoes that might otherwise have targeted someone who matters. Steve doesn’t waste any time on talking, a good sign, and spins into a clumsy roll. Thunderous blasts engulf his ship, but luckily for him, he listened, and diverted all power to shields and engines. The four of us flash across the stars, and then the cooldowns finish resetting. Time for round two.
Another flight of torpedoes blossoms out, me and Slend and Wind dumping the rest of our ordnance. Four more ships disappear, but another tsunami of death sweeps in. Explosions rattle my body, and warning signs puff into fitful existence across the cockpit.
“Shields at thirty.” Wind’s voice is calm.
“Left engine out.” Slend sounds bored.
“Sensors at fifteen.” My nav plot hashes and jiggers, static reducing it to an indecipherable wreck. “Let’s fucking do it.”
I match velocity with Slend and pull in front of Wind, utilizing our still-functional shields to keep her safe from the swiftly approaching laser volleys. Slend’s voice is a constant hum in my ear, feeding me updated enemy positions. Together, we advance on the remaining fighters, Steve fluttering behind us in wobbly arcs, the distance between us spreading.
The three hostiles that initially fled circle around toward Steve, sensing a weaker target they might be able to gang up on. That leaves six for us. His panicked voice finally fills the comms again, drowning out Slend.
“Oh shit oh shit oh shiiiiiit, what do I do what do I do there’re three of the—”
“Steve!”
I’m not angry, just loud. Cutting through his adrenaline, his fear. He falls silent.
“Breathe. All you have to do is keep your distance and dodge. This is endgame. Now grow a fucking pair, and pull some pilot shit!”
I hit him with a thirty-second mute just in case, and turn my focus back to Wind and Slend. Two-to-one odds are better than what we faced before, but they’re still not great, especially not when I’ll be knifefighting blind. I focus on Slend’s voice.
“Two at one. Two at twelve. Two at eleven. Twelve cutting below. One cutting right. Eleven cutting above.”
Laser blasts start impacting my shields, shaking the cockpit. I put more energy from my engines into the shields, since we’re stuck at Slend’s pace and I’ve got power to spare. Both of us make sure to keep between Wind and the hostiles.
“Twelve low five clicks. Eleven high three clicks. One high right three clicks.”
My targeting systems start picking up faint returns, dancing red ghosts in my vision. I need to get closer to use what’s left of my sensors.
“Wind, take twelve. Slend, cover me, I’ll take eleven first. Is Steve still alive?”
“Yup. Three on him. At eight. Nice jukes.” Slend sounds surprised. I can’t blame her.
“Okay, well, keep it up, Steve. Good job.”
“—WOOOOOO DID YOU SEE HOW CLOSE THAT LASER WAS HOLY SH—”
I mute him again.
“Wind, break on my mark.”
More laser fire rattles my shields, but they’re holding. Barely.
“Mark!”
“TIME TO DIE YOU PISSBABY FU—”
Five-second personal mute for Wind. I love her, but I need to concentrate.
I yank my stick back and slam the throttle forward, trusting Slend to point me in the right direction. A second later, two red brackets appear in the middle of my viewscreen. My lips peel away, a tiger’s smile, and I pull the firing trigger. Streams of coherent light spit out, and one of the brackets disappears. I throw my ship into a looping roll, dancing around the shots I know are already reaching to embrace me. Deadly particles sleet by, and I fire again. The other bracket vanishes.
“One at mid four, two clicks. Overboosting… firing… got him. Other engine’s out. One at five high. Circling behind.”
I flip end over end, more gravity squeezing my bones. Gray creeps in to the edges of my vision, but I force myself to ignore it, clenching my teeth and muscles. Another burst of acceleration and a red bracket appears in front of me once again. I stab my finger home, and the hostile fighter joins its brethren in oblivion, seconds away from vaporizing Slend.
“Wind, talk to me.”
“Psh. They never knew what hit ’em. Both down, along with my shields.”
“Steve, how’re you doing over there?”
“HOLY CRAP WE WON THEY’RE RUNNING WE WON I’M ALIVE W—”
I frown. Not having sensors sucks.
“Slend, where are they going?”
Slend draws in a breath, then grunts again. She sounds annoyed.
“Found some brains. Inc three to hauler.”
“Shit. They have any torpedoes left?”
“Ten. Two’ll crack it.”
“—OOOOO WE FUCKING WON THAT WAS AMA—”
“Double shit. How long?”
“Minute and a half, max.”
“—ZING THERE’S NO WA—”
I mute Steve and take a second to think, try to figure a way out. If those last three fighters hit the hauler, then we’ll lose our rewards for this daily. We’ve already clinched the ladder, so in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t mean much other than some wasted time, but I hate losing. Unfortunately, Wind and I won’t be able to reach the incoming fighters in time, our battle splitting us off to the opposite side of the hauler, and Slend’s engines are shot. If Wind could get there, normally she’d be able to stop the torpedoes with her shields and lasers, but that strat’s tough to implement with no shields. I have the shields and guns, but I can’t target the torpedoes anymore, and Steve is, well… yeah. He’s already contributed plenty as a distraction, and even though he hasn’t used any of his torpedoes, I doubt he’s experienced enough to take down anyone but another Candylander. Against three endgamers, he’s an explosion waiting to happen.