Attack Planet: A Space Opera Novel Page 3
The view changed to a forest landscape where two monkey-like men, wrapped in a furry coat, swung wooden clubs at each other. The bigger grunt beat down the weakling and posed his winner stance.
Next.
Hordes of people stormed over a desert ground with swords and shields raised. The two armies collapsed into each other and unleashed a wall of bloodshed.
Next.
Soldiers threw grenades over trenches and entered the front with rifles and sabers attached.
Next.
Modern soldiers with graphene-enhanced armor activated their laser-guided assault rifles. They unleashed HV rounds and pierced the enemy in the blink of a nano-enhanced eye. The holoscreen faded into black until big, glowing letters appeared over it.
Warfare.
“The best business model since humanity creeped out of its smelly cave.”
Flint nodded and kept watching. The ad was too dang compelling. And now the scenario of the commercial changed. The historic footage transformed into a sterile but slick office space. A woman with almond-shaped eyes and long, black hair looked at the observer. She wore a military type uniform which wrapped around her athletic figure like second skin.
“Hello, my name is Aylee Jin. I’m the CEO of BEAM, the place that trains the next generation of battlebiz luminaries.”
She moved her right hand toward a projection where captions of the facilities blurred in. State-of-the-art science and engineering labs, holoprojects, shiny-happy people of all shapes and ages. Military personnel worked with bots and tested new firearms in the indoor shooting range. The woman spoke again.
“We don’t know what the future will bring, but we know one thing for sure—we’ll always try to kill each other. So why not cash in? Ambitious go-getters from all around Fortuna join our programs to become market leaders. Maybe you can be one of them.”
The woman stared into the camera. Her eyes burned like plasma fire.
“Do you consider yourself a savvy business person? Become an Enterpriser and learn how to profit from battle-businesses and re-invest your revenue. Are you an innovator who wants to advance warfare through new inventions? Become a Techmaker and create the technologies of tomorrow. Or do you hate sitting behind the holodesk and want to blow up stuff for stunts and profits? Become a Frontliner and take the lead. The choice is yours.”
She paused with a smile and owned the moment.
“If you are nodding so hard your head is about to fall off, apply today and learn how to create your wealth. Come on now, lads and gents, it’s time to make a killing.”
She winked the viewer goodbye. Glowing 3D letters appeared.
“Apply now.”
“Apply now.”
“Apply now.”
16
Flint was so excited his hands shook like an electric zeel stuck to a power plant. He dove deeper into the BEAM presence. Read every single line. Drooled at the sharp-looking instructors and students dressed in nanofiber uniforms.
The marvel continued.
He saw the endless, high-end facilities of BEAM and the hovering glider that roamed its perimeter. Flint was almost wetting himself. He caught his breath and checked the FAQ. The title read,
“Why apply for BEAM instead of joining the Gov Guard? Reasons are plenty.
First of all the major difference—a Gov Guard, as the name implies, is a soldier working for the Fortuna government. A Frontliner on the other side is a private soldier who works for himself.
True fact number one. Gov Guards are expendable cogs, dying on the fields for corrupt politicians and meager payout. All in the name of pride and glory. Meh.
Frontliner receive premium training. They have access to the latest technology and face unlimited financial growth opportunities. Twenty-four percent of all Frontliner graduating from BEAM become multi-millionaires. Yay.
So while the Gov Guard falls for patriotism, the Frontliner climbs up the profit peak. And don’t get me wrong—patriotism is swell. It gives you a jolly good feeling in your midsection. But let’s be real. When you need to feed your family and require medical care, patriotism won’t help you. Credits will.
And do you know true fact number two? Twenty-one percent of all Gov Guards eventually join the Frontliner life. Don’t waste time learning that lesson after you signed for the government. Apply for BEAM straightaway and make a killing ASAP. Choose profit over pride. Apply now for the three month extreme Frontliner course.”
Flint experienced a rush of feels as he listened to the AI advice. His father had worked for the government, and everyone knew how that ended. No way he was going to join the Gov Guard and die for meager pay and corrupt politicians.
He wanted to make a killing, so he learned about the three major job types that BEAM offered.
First came the Enterpriser. This type took care of the organizational aspect of the battlebiz and the investments. Boring. Massaging his butt muscles on the chair 24/7 didn’t seem like an interesting career prospect.
The next class was the Techmaker. This person was either a scientist or an engineer and researched new technology. Genetic modifications or cybernetics. Like the Enterpriser, this job involved a lot of sitting behind holodesks. Thanx, but no, thanx.
Last but not least came the Frontliner. He was a single or squad-based soldier who worked for hire. Aiding the Gov Guard in protecting the Amazium fields or taking down criminals and rival factions. It was the most dangerous part of a battlebiz, since it involved paramilitary missions and possible death. Flint’s saliva rocked his mouth. He looked at the super-crisp 3D images of the displayed Frontliner and marveled at their intoxicating combat armor. The cool gadgets and the sick amounts of credits blew his mind.
Flint smiled.
So wide, his lips were about to yank.
Because…
17
“I’m going to the BEAM cluster to learn how to become a Frontliner.”
He announced the news in the kitchen. Put as much conviction into his declaration as possible. Sister Letty looked up from the counter. Father looked, too.
Flabbergasted faces.
“What?” they said in unison.
Flint moved closer.
“You know, BEAM, the place that trains the next generation of luminaries.”
“Breathe, boy, and pretend to make sense.”
Flint nodded, but seemed to forget the breathing part.
“I’ve looked up a hundred ways to make money fast, and BEAM seems to be the place to learn how to become rich.”
“Rich?” father said with a frowny face. It didn’t stop Flint, it spurred him to go on.
“I want to become a Frontliner. He’s a soldier-for-hire who’s making tons of money killing bad guys. It’s basically a license to print credits.”
Flint clapped his hands. His passion was speaking.
“If I go to the BEAM cluster and become a successful Frontliner, I can make millions and pay for mom’s replacements and the house repairs.”
Father took another sip from his coffee in slowmo and rolled his eyes.
“Sure, and if I had a spaceship fleet and a massive life generator, I could terraform my own planet.”
“Becoming a millionaire is more likely.”
“I doubt that. And for the sake of the argument, let’s put all logic aside. Why would BEAM ever accept you? You neither understand battle strategy nor business. All you know is driving your rider and hunting wraggs.”
“But I can shoot and got lots of endurance. The passion takes care of the rest.”
Flint pointed his finger toward the broken ceiling where the night sky and its many stars became visible. He looked right at the one star that seemed to shine down on him, Lady Stella.
His personal wishing star.
For Flint, it turned into an epic moment of revelation, only interrupted by the facepalm father gave himself. Letty put on her well-intended smile. But on the rare occasions Flint was on fire, the passion burned away doubt and frowny faces alike.
“Like it or not, I’m gonna be an epic Frontliner.”
18
“Your brother’s lost it. He completely lost it,” Walter said to Letty.
She wanted to say something, but offered a shrug instead. Awkward silence appeared. Flint moved in-between and group-hugged the hex out of them.
“I believe I got a good shot at it. Beam wants ambitious go-getters.”
“So anyone but you,” his father said.
“Dad,” Letty said, “at least he’s coming up with ideas.”
“Yeah, great. Because ideas without execution count for something.”
Flint sighed.
“You don’t believe I can do it?”
“I believe you’re jumping into the game too hot-headed. Do you even know what a Frontliner does? It’s the most dangerous job on the planet. You wouldn’t survive a week in the fields.”
“But I’m a good shooter. I can snipe wraggs and even killed a couple of scavages today.”
“Teenage scavages. You wouldn’t last a second fighting the adults. Let alone any other sicko on the front.”
Flint shrugged. Walter didn’t stop.
“Don’t you have to apply? What about the tuition fee?”
“The three months intensive program starts next week. I think I’m gonna show up in person and blow them away with my passion.”
“Flint, do you even know where the BEAM cluster is?”
“Somewhere in the Great Meadows?”
His father was about to give himself another facepalm but stopped halfway through. He still needed his hand for the repair work. Flint ignored his dad’s reaction and put the Fortuna planet map on his gizmo. He searched for BEAM and saw the 3D territory popping up in front of everyone’s eyes. The sexy digital voice
told them everything they needed to know.
“BEAM Valley Zone?”
His father leaned back into his wooden chair.
“Home of the warhipsters and the warfare world changers. Maybe it is the right place for an airhead like you.”
Flint slumped his shoulders and sagged into the nearby chair. He thought, no, hoped, BEAM would be in the Great Meadows near his parents’ home. But BEAM Valley, although it bordered the Meadows, was at least half a sonic ride away. Which meant he needed to ride back and forth if he wanted to visit his parents on the weekends. But maybe he thought too far ahead. He hadn’t even visited the place yet.
“Are you going to take the hovertrain?” Letty said.
“Too expensive, I’m gonna take my rider after I fixed it.”
“All the way to BEAM Valley? But that will take days.”
“No probs. I’ve rode the Meadows from north to south in a single run.”
“But BEAM Valley isn’t anything like the Meadows. It’s dangerous, right, dad?” Letty said.
Father nodded.
“It’s expensive, that’s for sure. A single room within the BEAM cluster costs more than five hectors of land in the Great Meadows. Only the rich of the rich and the best of the best survive in that hostile environment. It’s no place for a country boy like you.”
Flint nodded in slowmo. His sudden burst of passion snuffed out into lukewarm vapor.
Father shoved his chair closer to Flint and patted him on the shoulder.
“Listen, I appreciate your ideas, but you should give ‘em more thought. Go to bed, son. Tomorrow you’ll wake up with a clear mind.”
Father's crypto speak for Get That BS Dream Out Of Your Membrane. But Flint didn’t object—he confronted too many questions. Maybe he did need to reconsider this decision.
“Sure.”
Pause.
“Good night, Pa, good night, Sis.”
He kissed them both on the cheek and walked up to his room. He crawled into his bed and tried to shut down, but the mind wouldn’t let him. It ran on high velocity. The images of the day flashed by in rapid succession.
Wragg hunt.
Flash.
Scavage attack.
Flash.
Mother in the medcube.
Flash.
The BEAM battlebiz commercial.
Speaking of which, Flint pulled it back on his gizmo display and glanced at the glowing logo of the promised place. A three dimensional representation of the letters shone like a meteor flare. Flint’s breath shot up like a fountain of hope. Underneath the acronym stood the full definition:
Battle
Entrepreneurship
Advancing
Mankind
Flint’s heart rate increased. The energy bubbled up inside. Maybe it was the way the holographic letters shone at his face. Maybe it was the flashy commercial that wowed his brain. Or maybe it was the promise of epicness that would await him. But something about that BEAM place unlocked a deeper yearning within Flint. He knew one thing for sure—staying with his parents and helping around the house wouldn’t be enough. If he wanted to pay for mother’s organs, he needed to play a bigger game.
19
As the night grew darker, Flint’s onslaught of thoughts calmed down. He pulled up the bed sheet he used since he was a toddler and craned his head toward the half-open window. The night sky glimmered as clear as mother’s herb brew, allowing the stars to unleash their sparkle feast. Flint’s favorite star blinked stronger than the others combined. He smiled as Lady Stella watched over him.
“I promise to go on, and you promise to keep shining for me. Deal?”
Lady Stella flickered. Flint held his hand up the nighttime sky, as if to grab the star from her firmament. Hand shaking a shiny planet lightyears away was a challenge, but he could always make-believe. He raised his pinky, moved it up and down.
Sealed the promise with a starshake.
Deal-o.
20
When the morning sun beamed through the kitchen windows, Walter Ocelot smiled. Ok, it wasn’t a full smile, but at least it wasn’t the wrinkled grimace he wore all yesterday.
The damage still haunted the house.
His wife Giselle was still in the medcube.
And they still didn’t know how to pay for it.
But under the rich, golden glow of the morning rays, hope shimmered like the emerald Meadows. The Ocelots survived calamities before. And although none of them had been as dramatic as the scavage attack, Walter knew he’d find a way out. He always did, somehow.
“Dad, what’s this?”
Letty stood frozen in the door frame. She pointed toward a note laying on the kitchen table. Walter moved toward the paper and picked it up. Even without eye enhancements, he recognized the handwritten smear.
“The scavage attack opened my eyes.
I reviewed my past and realized I failed at taking care of you. I lived like that flying kid from that fairy story, you know, the green-dressed boy with the funny hat who didn’t want to grow up.
Well, I’m going to change that.
I took the rider and blasted off to the BEAM Valley Zone. I’ve got nothing in my rucksack but the passion to melt the suns. Spoiler alert—I will contact you tomorrow. Keep it tight, and don’t worry, I’ll get the money for mom’s organs, one way or another.
PS—Sorry Sis, I took your cocoa candy bars. They will serve as my provisions for the grand journey. Nothing can stop a chocolated Ocelot!”
Walter couldn’t believe it.
His son acted on his airhead decision.
Sister Letty couldn’t believe it, either.
First, her brother took her beloved cocoa candy bars and traveled to BEAM without applying. She lifted her chin and glanced at her father whose blank expression changed into a faint smile.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a day or two. He’ll learn that the real world doesn’t work like his hot head fantasies.”
—Chapter 3—
Warhipster, Wassup
“BEAM is Fortuna’s beacon of excellence. And probably one of mankind’s best achievements, right after the invention of nanoprinting and sliced bread.”
~ Vance Loydpack
21
Flint stopped his rider. The digital border between BEAM Valley and the Great Meadows showed up on his gizmo.
So this was it.
The first time he ever left the home zone. Flint looked at the endless green lands swallowed up by the horizon. A wide angle view with nothing but sparse forests and green goodness.
Mesmerizing.
A wave of melancholia washed over him. He remembered the countless times when he hunted wraggs and stormed across the landscape, feeling the chill air brush against his face. Flint waved at some invisible spot in the distance and air-kissed the Meadows goodbye.
The BEAM zone was filled with woods, valleys and mountains. And a bunch of warhipsters who believed they were the H of humanity—jerking off to the latest battle gadgets and tossing tech speeches like fragg grenades.
To bloody-hex with them.
He was going to BEAM to learn how to make millions of creds so he could save his mother. No easy endeavor, but a clear red line leading through this new life.
This was it.
He took another deep breath of air, stretched his neck and activated the rider’s motors.
Ready or not, here comes Flint Ocelot.
22
Somewhere not too far in the same zone.
A glider blew over the landscape.
MechaTrox music blasted from its inner surround system.
“I fell in luv with a robot, in luv with a robot who rocked my RAID.”
The music reverberated through the interior and shook up the seats. Yoko tapped her index finger on the yoke in rhythm to the beats. Her high-octane voice sang over the song.
“I fell in luv with a ro-bot who rocked my R-A-I-D.”
She ramped up the speed and dashed along her rideline. Nothing beat velocity and music in jamming rhythm. Her glider hovered above the surface leaving nothing but dust trails behind.
A holographic warning flickered next to her yoke.