Short Story: Draft Day

INDEX

A# – Artificial intelligence ranked in six levels with A1 the most powerful, through A6

AO – Assimilative Organism

APW – Antimatter Propellant Weapon

AU – Astronomical Unit (about 414 million km or 257 million miles)

Ceres – Largest dwarf planet within the orbit of Neptune with a diameter approximately 945 kilometers, composed mostly of rock and ice

DIE – Department of Interplanetary Exploration

EPA – Extraterrestrial Protection Act

FEIS – Federal Earth and Interstellar Senate

HUB-#n – Earth-like planets first revealed by Hubble Telescope

KEP-#n – Earth-like planets first revealed by Kepler Telescope

LOC – Levels of Conflict

LTD – Life to Death prediction based on algorithms that calculate survival probabilities

NNCom – Neural Net Communications

OW – Organic World

ViW – Virtual World

Struggling to gain consciousness, he willed impossibly heavy eyelids to open. Finally a sliver of light.

Blurred vision revealed something bright and fast moving. Awareness came slowly and a roaring sound rose. The rumble that shook the air was soon ascended by physical pain that didn’t arrive slowly, but burst forth suddenly—violently. His vision was thrust back into night.

No, I’m not dying, he realized, and this wasn't a sleeping nightmare, it was a waking one....

As he bcame more aware Jak realized that he lay on his side, against a hard surface. The pain in his body was painful but didn't seem internal. More like his skin was on fire despite the familiar, encased feeling provided by his body armor, which DIE troopers commonly refer to as their endoskeleton.

He forced his eyes open again and his vision cleared enough so that he could take in his position.

Jak’s A1 symbiont informed him that his biological state was precarious: You are dehydrated and severely fatigued. I can neutralize the pain but it will take 5 to 7 minutes.

Still unsure of his physical status, Jak relied on the strength-enabling cabling of his endoskeleton to roll to his back and rise to his feet. There was a smell of citrus in the air, reminding him of fruit left out a few days too long.

The atmosphere is breathable, but will not sustain you. With my assistance you will remain conscience for 22 minutes. Death will follow shortly, perhaps within 10 more minutes.

Jak wore his skull cap and face shield; his chin and jawline were the only parts of his body visible, the remainder covered by the dark green mesh and black cabling of his armor. His battle helmet had been fractured away with the rest of the exoskeleton when he’d been forced to detonate… what? Moments ago? Hours ago?

He ran his tongue across swollen lips, reminding himself not to inhale too deeply and wondered how long he was unconscious.

You have a moderate concussion and first degree burns over most of your body, which I am medicating. There is seventy-seven percent physical capacity. You are... fine, but the internal skeletal framework of your armor includes damage to your right knee servo. Function at 35 percent.

Hidden beneath his visor Jak’s eyes rove back and forth, taking in the scene. He was stranded on a small, mountainous landmass of volcanic rock. A raging flume thundered to his right, a white-washed torrent of oxygen rich liquid that pounded into the ocean some 50 meters below.

“Will they find me? I mean, they gotta have some idea where I’m at. That we’re alive.”

Jak shook his head in irritation and liquid dribbled off the sides of his polished skull cap. “This doesn’t make sense,” he snapped. “Gimme an LTD.”

There is a 27-percent probability the command ship will send a rescue drone in the next hour, in which case there is a 16 percent probability of life to death.”

Jak continued to look around, studying the terrain. Somehow he’d managed to clamber onto land—rock more like it—the only place the alien apparently wouldn’t follow. He tilted his head back to croak into a strange, alien sky, “What’s the matter? Come get me!”

That invisible tympanum, the mind’s ear as many liked to call it, got no response from his A1. Jak sat down slowly, groaning again despite the medics injected through his armor. From head to toe he burned as though someone had taken a lazwhip to his entire body. He continued to try and get a better idea of his surroundings.

His A1 complied, adjusting filters in his auditory channels so that the rush of the flume was muted. Now he could hear the slap of the waves against the rocks below, as well as the whisper of a slight breeze across his faceplate.

Mist rose from the fast moving liquid but did little to veil the vibrancy of the unearthly, oddly textured sky, which was filled with striated-like clouds that appeared as though some madman of an oil pointer had recklessly wove his brush across the canvas with yellows, greens and an occasional splash of orange. The rock on which he sat was ink black and reflected little light. He twisted around and looked up the small mountain upon which he’d apparently clambered to safety.

There was nothing. No vegetation. Not a tree, a bush or even a patch of grass. All life on planet HUB-16f existed within or floated upon the ocean.

Jak gazed down to where waves met the shore. The liquid was blue green, eerily similar in color and texture to earth’s oceans. Maybe it was a bit greener than the Caribbean waters where he’d vacationed as a child, but that was the only similarity. It smelled tart, reminding him of the bland tea his mother squeezed too much lemon into. This may be water, but it was not earth’s salt water, but a fermented mix best left to the recently deceased scientists to explain. And as far as the indigenous creatures that existed within it, well, it wasn’t your average, every-day alien that could decimate a Squad of armored marines, let alone pluck a weaponized cargo shuttle out of the sky.

He looked across the ocean to the floating island from which he’d somehow—at least temporarily—escaped death. Some 400 meters off shore, from his vantage it appeared harmless, a mass of alien vegetation, reds and greens and purples all mixed together to form something akin to the medusa of a monstrous jelly fish. Jak now knew the island itself was not merely plant-like, but mobile, perhaps even sentient. Enormous, tree trunk thick vines trailed hundreds of meters into the depths of the sea, while its mesoglea and epidermis formed a platform many meters thick. Jak shuddered and automatically pawed along his hips and the small of his back, searching for a weapon.

He continued, out of habit—out of training—to search for something, anything to fight with. There was nothing on the rock other than a few streaks of purple Crit gut that had dribbled off his endoskeleton. He looked down and saw some of the goopy stuff still clung to the thickly cabled framework that encased his upper thighs. He laughed morbidly, thinking it garishly matched the dark hue of his armor.

Jak stared up at the strange, alien sky for a moment then muttered, “How the hell’d I end up here?”

I was still in training when we began preparing for the mission to HUB-16f. I’d heard rumors about the planet, hell, everyone had. The grid is filled with all kinds of gossip when it comes to alien worlds. The first time I got any real truth was during my first week on Ceres, from our DIE’s Colonel, Tu-Gin Haas.

Tu-Gin reminds me of a gun slinging cowboy from the old fashioned, two-dimensional movies my parents collect. He definitely belonged in an age where disputes were settled out on the street, face to face. He has rugged, leathery looking skin, brown and creased from so much time in the sun and wind of alien worlds. His narrow, epicanthic eyes peer out from beneath a scarred brow that he’d never bothered fixing with surgery. Some of those old wounds are partially hidden by a mustard-colored knit he always wears on his head to ward off the chill that seeps through your bones no matter how much heat they pump into the vast training fortresses built inside the abandoned mines that pock mark the barren surface of the dwarf planet. Though not a big man, Tu-Gin radiates strength, like he didn’t even need armor. I was envious… never imagined I could be that tough.

I walked into the cavernous arena Yellow Corp constructs for the DIE attack units trained for planet infiltration. We were a full Squad—12 plus me, each having established through months of exhaustive education, testing and analysis that we were the smartest, the toughest—the best. We wore yellow fatigues, black boots and pistols on one hip, lazwhips on the other. Tu-Gin stared each of us down as we filed by so I knew we were in for some heavy programming.

Once everyone was seated upon a single row of chairs, he paced in front of us, seeming to gather his thoughts. I’d only been on Ceres for a few days and this was my first chance to get a look at the combat dome. A micro-sun lit the interior like the brightest day on earth. Several kilometers in the distance I could see the structure of rotating gravity adjustment fields. Nearby was the gigantic metal box of a military issue, ViW Theatre, the type of theatre that could no doubt put you through a seriously punishing LOC.

“This rock’s gonna be our home for the next two years, during which we will train you, condition you, prepare you. You’re goin’ to hell marines and it aint fire an’ brimstone. It’s a liquid sphere with a dominant species that’d make Hades run ‘n hide. So forget all that crap you started scorin’ from the days your mama still wiped your ass. This is a real taste—a genuine alien world; yet unexplored by humans and you'll be the first.”

Tu-Gin led us down to the theatre in double-time and we went inside to wrap up in virtual suits. Once engulfed by the ViW, we were introduced to planet HUB-16f, the environment, the ocean and the indigenous life, dominated by a creature we eventually nicknamed the Crit.

To call HUB-16f just another ocean planet wouldn’t give it justice. The ocean was in many regions—those habitats apparently favored by the Crit—a soupy mass of vegetative life, some of which formed medusa-like islands several kilometers in diameter and apparently large and dense enough to support and conceal a million tonne shuttle.

What little land existed on HUB-16f was the result of volcanic activity. The planet was crisscrossed with a dense network of thermal convection currents. Basically it had a perpetually bad case of lava-spewing acne.

Beneath the liquid surface the growth of Plantae took place at an astonishing rate. Animalia life was equally frantic in the ebb and flow of populations. At least all of the organic life but for the Crit, which as we learned appeared to be pretty much immortal and ruled their world every bit as much as we humans rule ours.

My education includes a PHD in the Behavioral Sciences of extraterrestrials, so there’s little that surprises me anymore, but I gotta admit, HUB-16f and the Crit were a whole new program.

I mean, at the conclusion of basic training my Squad felt prepared for anything. Our graduation required a visit to planet KEP-78a, better known as Xuveria, where the dominant species is nicknamed the Xuverian hornet.

Xuverian hornets look like a wasp mated with a dragon fly—but they’re four meters long, have a 30-meter wing span and fly a hundred kilometers an hour. They have a carapace like Kevlar and venom that’ll vaporize space-hardened steel. Their nests number in the tens of millions and are the size of an earth mountain. When one hive battles another, hundreds of thousands of square kilometers are left barren.

So when our graduate mission required that we infiltrate a nest it got pretty intense. But to be honest, getting in and out of that seething mass of gigantic, insectoid life seemed like a picnic when I learned what we’d be facing against the Crit.

As a planet, HUB-16f isn’t so unusual. Earth-like, with a similar mass and gravity, it burns hot, generally between 70-90 degrees Celsius. It spins on a constant axis, but only the very tip of the southern pole is ice covered. The sheer density of life is what distinguishes it.

Even at its most barren, HUB-16f supports an ecology akin to our equatorial jungles. And as for the Crit? I guess, at least visually, the closest analogous Animalia on earth might be some kind of giant, underwater worm. Yeah, I know, not the most frightening image, but I’m talking colossal in size.

The Crit, it turned out, are by far the largest discovered organic in any scientific Kingdom, earth-based or otherwise. The biggest have been estimated at over three kilometers in length and millions of tonnes. But the real shocker was that the Crit were only the second discovered species to be classified AO.

Yep, it was an Assimilative Organism, what we geeks call—with a cool English accent of course—assumere.

An assortment of gasps rose from the periphery of the ViW, earning us a, “shut the fuck up,” from Tu-Gin.

See, all organics, even a nest of Xuverian hornets can be dealt with by DIE-trained marines in combat armor and APW carbines, which we call slag guns. I mean, anything with mass slags and anything organic is obliterated… usually.

But it wouldn’t be so simple with the Crit. Assimilative species have an entirely different level of adaptation. It’s as if Darwinism took place in a rampant, but chaotic world where the organics were engineered rather than evolved.

For a lot longer than I’ve been around rumors of assimilative species have run that predictable ebb and flow of news worthiness across earth-based and orbital grids. FEIS never officially confirms nor denies their existence. But that day, deep in the bowels of a frozen mini-planet almost three AUs from home, I learned that the Crit were the second such species discovered among 112 mapped OWs.

The ViW informed us that the first assimilative species was discovered nearly 50 years ago on planet HUB-17b, home of the Yulandrianictis Pseudopods—Yula-pods for short.

HUB-17b has a chlorine rich atmosphere where these building sized, amoeba-like creatures drift in floating colonies. The Yula-pods, as it turned out, have an intricate language based on chemical exchange and a fascinating lifestyle designed around philosophical endeavors—seriously, I'm not making this shit up. But mathematical modeling puts their processing power off the charts, basically A1 level.

Yet as crazy as it this might sound, there was no evidence of tool-making. At least not until they came into contact with us.

Turned out the Yula-pods were our first assimilative contact; thus, we had no idea what we were in for. When the aliens got hold of a disabled interstellar drone, Pandora’s Box wasn’t just opened, it was yanked right off its hinges.

Scarcely 10 earth years after finding our robot explorer we discover the Yula-pods building space ships. Imagine going from no evolved requisite for tool-making to attempting the mastery of flight in less than four thousand days. In an evolutionary microsecond, we’d permanently altered an ecological stasis that took billions of years to mature.

Now, some five decades after the fact, FEIS still contracts Yellow Corp battle cruisers to orbit the planet to systematically isolate and eradicate those tribes attempting the manufacture of any kind of vessel capable of leaving the atmosphere.

See, assimilative species learn fast. Really, fast. They’re capable of immediately cognizing any technology that is based on organic, chemical elements as well as many aspects of the physical sciences. Erudition seems instantaneous.

We humans should feel a certain level of humility. I mean, really, in looking at the net-result of a 112 OWs, we are unique and impressive, the only yet-encountered species capable of interstellar flight.

Not so sure. Assimilative species seem to have a learning potential for, dare I say, omniscience?

Other than the most formidable, biological intelligence discovered in our galaxy, there are two things the Yula-pods and the newly discovered Crit share from a physiological standpoint: they are both gigantic organisms and can morph their physiology in extraordinary ways.

Don’t have an appropriately agile limb with a prehensile thumb? They just grow one.

Have never encountered radar or an information-laden microwave burst? No problem, they propagate sonar-like assets to duplicate it at a biological level.

But what has FIEC the most worried is—at least in theory—if you slag one without killing it, the creature may be able to develop and therefore instantly pass on the basic understanding of the physics behind APWs—the concentrated antimatter weaponry we use for everything from slicing out the super-frozen water of Ceres to slagging the Yula-Pods into extinction.

The ViW ended and we took off our helmets. Once again, Tu-Gin stood in front of us looking stern and forbidding.

He took a moment, then said, “Right, imagine a few of those things ending up in our oceans?” He paused and began pacing.

“So… why does FEIS want marines on HUB-16f?” He looked up and down the row of us as if expecting an answer.

“Sir,” I said, “Using Yula-Pods as the precedent, I’d think EPA would severely restrict our involvement; in fact, forbid it.”

“Of course,” he answered and stopped pacing to face us, hands clasped behind his back.

As leader of the Squad I felt obligated to speak. “Gotta be something there of value, sir.”

“Right Sergeant. It so happens that planet HUB-16f is loaded with raw metalform.”

And that simple sentence explained everything. Metalform is the common name for a complex, organometallic not found on earth. It is extremely rare and as of yet, cannot be manufactured or mimicked. It was first unearthed in small quantities during the initial stages of mining on Ceres. And it was that discovery and eventual use of metalform that made interstellar travel possible.

Jak knelt down, bracing himself against the gusts of spray that swept over the side of the flume. He winced as he peeled off his skull cap, exposing a smoothly shaven head and the chrome-colored knobs of his ‘Frankensteins’, the surgically embedded housing of his A1's CPUs. He crept closer, closing his eyes and letting the warm liquid splash against him, washing away any remaining Crit gut.

Standing, his armor bristled with electric discharge. He gingerly walked out of range of the liquid.

High stepping each leg and swinging his arms he forced himself to move despite the fiery feel of his skin.

“Good enough,” he said softly, knowing that his armor could only keep him alive for just a few more minutes anyway.

He replaced his skull cap and scanned the ocean between him and the living island from which he’d so recently escaped. He zoomed in on the edge of the vegetative mass where large, purple vines still writhed and twisted as though angry that he’d gotten away.

Kneeling, Jak placed gloved hands across his chest and bowed forward. He said a brief prayer and concentrated on his breathing. His heart rate slowed and his A1 reciprocated, kickstarting his adrenals to flood his bloodstream with energy and nutrients.

Survival can often come down to the barest breadth of time. I detect you have not lost hope?

Jak managed a soft laugh. “Guess I always knew that I’d end up in a jam like this.”

By the time I was 12-years-old I'd proven to have a rare, innate ability to synch with armor of any kind—athletic, industrial, recreational. My parents soon realized that any career involving armor was mine for the asking, with the exception of the elite military units. Those jobs only went to the very best. So of course I wouldn't consider anything less.

See, anyone can wear armor, but like cognitive aptitude or physical ability, some individuals can accomplish things that others simply cannot. I just happened to be put together in a way that allows me to synchronize so thoroughly with an endoskeleton mesh that wearing armor is truly symbiotic—we both become stronger.

By the time I became a teenager, universities from all over Earth as well as the orbiting colonies were actively recruiting me for scholarships in armored athletics. By the time I was 16, the government subsidized the implantation of an A1-capable chip and embedded its corresponding thousands of networked nanoparticles, as well as permanent modification of my nervous system so that I’d better integrate with what eventually would be an A1 symbiont.

On my 18^th birthday, when a Yellow Corp recruiter told me that I was one in many millions—guess I just happened to have won the armor genetic lottery—I signed on.

I wasn’t born rich, but that no longer mattered. Yellow Corp paid for my undergraduate and graduate degrees at the finest institutions. I worked hard enough to earn my doctorate and was hired into Yellow Corp’s interstellar program, where I’d have to scale my way through the different stages of the Levels of Conflict—the LOCs as we call ‘em.

The ultimate LOC is Draft Day, of course, but most recruits—already exceptional to begin with—fail to qualify even close to that level.

All LOCs test strength of will, intelligence and the ability to make decisions under the most strenuous and horrific circumstance. As a behavioral PhD, I know more than the average person about LOCs. Rare individuals have always existed, but finding them is still difficult.

Take your Medal of Honor recipient, for example. The problem with finding such a person is his or her potential only emerges under the grimmest of circumstance. So that’s what LOCs are for. It’s a complete immersion into a virtual reality so realistic that on Draft Day you are required to basically sign your life away. Because—virtual or not—death is a very real possibility.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamt about sneaking into a Xuverian hive to rescue a band of eco-explorers. I’ve fantasized about riding planet KEP-89c’s 400-kph winds on an armored salvage kite.

Still, there was a state of disbelief the day I went to undergo my own Draft Day.

Yellow Corp is the best, has the most elite combat units; therefore, their LOCs are the toughest—the most dangerous. I had met several times to prepare with Dr. Lewis Stephen, the ‘mad genius’ as they call him, for decades the chief engineer in charge of Yellow Corp’s ViW technology.

Even after years of extreme vetting, Draft Day recruits still show a 50-percent failure rate and a 30-percent chance of psychological and/or physiological damage that requires medical repair. And of course, there's the unspoken, 5-percent chance of permanent damage or even death… which I guess is kinda permanent too.

Anyway, that day I just remember trying to relax. I put the car in autopilot and stared out the window, taking in the tree tops below, a green blur that soon changed to the grays, blacks and browns of Boston-suburb rooftops. The day was sunny and clear, ground-based transportation sparse, but cars of every size and shape flew around me, all of us following the highway ribbon that led into the heart of the deeply-rooted, classic city.

I watched the to and fro of drivers, some taking their time, others racing through the tiniest openings to elicit angry horn blasts and age-old hand gestures. My studies of the Behavioral Sciences told me that these are the instinctual actions of a socially organized, dominant species. Evolution requires us to coexist, but remain competitive.

So drive faster, Jak. Speed up! This is why you don’t succeed. Why you won’t pass the Levels of Conflict!

Except for wearing armor, I’ve never excelled. I’ve attended the finest schools and universities, but never felt that I truly pushed myself.

As a kid I competed in armor games. I always won. But I didn’t have to try. I didn’t have to practice. It was like being the fastest kid in the neighborhood. I was just born that way. I could have made a damn fine living in armored sporting events. But I refused to let go of my desire to become an interstellar combat soldier.

Anyway, the ride into Boston was uneventful. I never did speed up. I left the car on autopilot and cruised into Yellow Corp’s headquarters right on time, prepared to pass my LOC… or die trying.

Jak, growing groggy from the meds in his system, stood up. He wondered if his mind was playing tricks. Is the flume slowing?

He looked around and then above. The mist had cleared. The sky had also changed. Angry swirls of purple and yellow spun in a violent pattern. He shuddered at the sheer strangeness of the place.

But still no Crit scouts, not even the ones that kinda look like little helicopters?

Jak scanned the hillside, using his armor’s optics to zoom in on anything that looked like it might be something other than black volcanic rock. There was nothing. Just ever-darker shadows among steep angles and menacing cliffs.

It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered; if the Crit showed up now there was no way to outrun it.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Jak said, shaking his head in frustration. “The ship should’ve at least contacted me. Sent a scout to pluck me off this rock for God’s sake. Why haven’t they?”

Approximately 12 minutes before I can no longer sustain your respiratory system.

Jak nodded resignedly and took several paces up the hill, turned and once again gazed across the ocean at the alien, living island just several hundred meters off shore. “Shit”, he muttered, remembering how they’d had such a routine flight down.

Cargo shuttles are nicknamed Pigs in reference to the earth ungulate. Bulky and rotund, the ships aren’t designed for speed but to deliver massive equipment.

The shuttle that delivered Jak’s DIE squad to HUB-16f was a typical, cocoon-shape and blew out of Yellow Corp’s interstellar flagship like a stubborn fecal plug. It hit atmosphere in seconds and everyone struggled to keep their last meal down while their A1s lambasted the Pig’s A3 like parents scolding a naughty pet.

Despite the weight of their armor and being strapped in against the walls of the wide, tube-like enclosure of the ship, the marines were bounced and jostled as the Pig trampled through pockets of heated air.

Jak warily eyed the girth of the mobile lab behind them, though he knew it was securely locked down. He wondered how the scientists and engineers already situated inside were faring.

The descent came to halt and again the gorge started to rise. The ship shuddered as its guns began firing. There were several discharges Jak recognized as scorch rounds, designed to incinerate; then, the unmistakable, gut-constricting thud of an APW cannon and once again they were heading down.

The bay doors were already opened as the shuttle settled to stop. A dozen marines, plus Jak, each a purple-black, 4-meter tall mass of space-hardened metalform, began to disembark.

In the early days of robotic marine armorment, outfitted soldiers wore cumbersome plates of Tungsten and steel, which did not allow for the fluidity of typical, animilian-type grace; hence, movements were stiff and wooden and led to bug references like endo and exo skeletons. While those terms had endured, modern armorments constructed of metalform and woven graphen had drastically changed manuverability.

As Jak and his fellow marines exited the shuttle, they defied their bulk with movements smooth and agile. They scrambled down the exit ramp onto terrain that was as best as Jak could tell—though there was over three meters of mechanical limb between his feet and the surface—squishy, but firm.

The Squad grouped into a rough circle, the charred soot and debris of whatever had lived upon that slice of alien Terra firma piled as high as the knobbed joint that housed their ankle servos. A smell not unlike burnt wood wafted through olfactory receptors.

The marines were identical in appearance, their armor freshly coated to remove any previous scarring. The weaponry mounted on their elongated arms gave them an ape-like contour and the power source strapped around their torso added a hunch-back effect. Enclosed within the bulk of the exoskeleton, each soldier’s uniquely fitted endoskeleton mesh physically and cognitively linked their biological selves to their monstrous, robot extensions.

“Fan out,” Jak ordered and each mechatronic marine lumbered to a 30-degree position around the delivery craft. Within the Pig came a deep rumble as the mobile lab the scientists would use to probe the depths of the ocean for metalform deposits began to move.

They’d set down on one of the many, living, island-like masses that dotted this region of the planet-wide ocean. The ship had incinerated a rough circle some half-kilometer in diameter. The air remained hazy with smoke and floating ash and he couldn’t see much of what lay beyond their immediate vicinity. He had to rely on the Pig and the individual A1s in the group to provide updates on their surroundings

The lab needed just 90 seconds to roll out of the hold. It was a simple, square box with darkened windows, as innocuous on the outside as a highway ribbon garage; though, housed inside was the sophisticated machinery the geological surveyors and scientists would use to drill through the island to deliver umbilical sensors and robot explorers thousands of meters deep.

Jak received affirmation via NNCom that all was clear. Defying its nickname, the Pig elegantly rose and with a spin, accelerated to disappear through drifting plumes of smoke.

Eager to see what lay beyond the smoldering landing area, he announced over NNCom, “Nikki stay at the lab.”

Jak and the other marines waded through ash to unclamp from the lab a four-meter cylinder with a corkscrew end. A force field fence post weighs over two tonnes, but armored, the marines carted them away with ease. Jak plucked a torpedo-like stake from its holding and headed for the perimeter.

Though he had trained for this mission for over two years and scouting drones had provided thousands of hours of detailed ViWs, what awaited still defied imagination.

At the edge of the clearing carved by the Pig’s firepower, a jungle-like wall rose some 60 meters to a thick, upper canopy. There was vegetation that resembled gigantic insect antennae, others that were fern-like. Misshapen, rock-like lumps of blue emerged from the island's epidermis, out of which grew long, elegant branches with bright green, leaf-like appendages, some of which were easily 10-meters across. And everywhere there were purple, vine-like tendrils that grew hair-like from the tan-colored skin of the land, twisting and turning in seemingly indiscriminate directions, winding their way around other plantae life as though to protect it.

Everything was Jurassic large and intensely colored—greens, blues and yellows all interwoven with the purple vines in a mosaic of startling brilliance. But to Jak, there was the feel of something almost artificial, like plastic.

The plantae—all of it, from main trunks to branches and leaves—was smooth and clean with nothing to suggest Earth's microbial life. There was nothing that resembled moss or fungi. And nothing appeared to be rotting. And what surely told Jak that this was no place like home was that most of these so called plants were moving, some in slight undulations like coral in the currents of an earth ocean, while others, especially the vines in more of a writhing, Animalia type motion.

As a scientist he wanted to study and learn, but he was a marine and he was in charge.

A purple vine as thick as his armored thigh slithered into the ash and headed directly towards him. With the force field post tucked under his right, mechanical arm, he casually raised his left and a vicious shard of discharge incinerated the exploring creature.

“Get your posts up,” he sent across NNCom. “Slag anything that moves into the landing zone until we get the fence working.”

Taking the post in two, massive armored hands he raised it over his head and slammed it down. Briefly the cork screw drill spun violently and then the post was upright and secure.

Jak's half-meter long, mechanical hands tapered to long fingers as thin at their last joint as those on his own hands. He opened the control panel and flicked it into active mode before backing away several steps. Once all the posts were implanted at 30-degree intervals along the landing zone perimeter, Jak’s A1 received orders from the lab to activate the fence. He took a few more steps back and watched the shimmering aura of the force field energize into what should be an impenetrable dome.

Curious he watched as more of the purple vines stretched out of the vegetative wall only to vaporize when contacting the force field.

Jak couldn’t resist stretching his armor a bit and covered the distance back to the research structure in five-meter skips and leaps, ash heaving out from under the meter-long boots of his exoskeleton. He saw most of the other marines doing the same. They gathered next to the square enclosure and formed a loose circle of mechanized juggernauts.

Estimated arrival of species HUB-16f-v7 is seven to 48 minutes, his A1 shared across NNCom.

Aloud, for the sake of the others, Jak asked across their communication network, “Any current sightings?”

“No surprise. They generally stay several kilometers deep and we can’t use sonar or radar.”

Jak shrugged, which translated into only a slight movement of the egg-shaped helmet that covered his head.

“We know how bloody big they are. It’ll travel like a tsunami. We’ll get ample warning.”

The marine directly to Jak’s left asked, “Any guess on the little flying guys?”

Jak couldn't resist casting an internal thought to Nikki, his second in command: “Guys! You hear that?”

The mental equivalent of laughter came back at him and he grinned within his armor.

Nikki was the only member of the Squad who scored as high as Jak in human to armor symbiosis. They had the ability to communicate via their A1s with, for lack of a better term, a kind of telepathy. They called it signing, in deference to the silent language once used by the hearing impaired.

Jak had always thought, and he knew that she did as well—they had no choice but to know—that in a different life he and Nikki would have been more than friends and comrades….

“We all know the ability the Crit has to propagate itself into… well, think of our scout drones,” Jak said. “We know a single host organism can create countless extensions of itself to create a network of emergent intelligence.”

Jak smiled again within his metalform helmet. “Implying that it’s female with subservient male drones?”

Nikki’s right shoulder cannon popped out of her exoskeleton and swiveled around in a circle before settling back in its holster. Because facial or hand gestures are useless while wearing armor, marines adopted other ways to converse. What Nikki had just told Jak was basically—duh!

“You got it Hetty, and we all agreed with your LOC when it predicted that you’d shit your armor.”

“My puckered, shit-will-not-pass ass,” he retorted, “I’m the eternal contrarian. My armor’ll squeeze out a loaf before I do.”

Laughter popped across NNCom and Jak was glad to see that everyone seemed relaxed.

“They’re going to come at us in all shapes and sizes,” he said, “some maybe not even visible, others possibly quite large. That’s an attribute we just don’t know much about.”

Just then the Pig cut across NNCom to announce, Disturbance in natural eddy system. Creature identified as species HUB-16f-v7 approximately five kilometers distant, heading directly at landing zone, 2,400 meters deep.

Whistles crisscrossed NNCom. “Damn,” one of the marines muttered. “It’s over two miles long.”

Eight marines fanned out in five-meter strides, ash bursting around them as they each took up a 45-degree interval just behind the force field perimeter. Nikki and three other marines spaced themselves at 90 degrees around the science lab, halfway between the structure and the perimeter. Jak set himself to prowling around the immediate area of the lab, using his optical zoom to eye each individual as his A1 updated him on their vitals.

The smoke caused by the Pig’s bombardment had drifted away and Jak was now able to scan to the edge of the clearing. He studied the plantae, noting that more and more of the purple vine creatures were slithering around the perimeter. Adjusting his optics, he peered through the dense mass of growth to probe what may lay beyond the jungle-like island.

“Try to appreciate what we are about to see,” he found himself saying. “The Crit are the most complex organism ever encountered. And one of this size, about to come visiting has probably been around since dinosaurs were roaming around.”

“Save it doc—Sarge!,” came the voice of Het, who was on the outer ring, “cuz we may have to slag the ol’ mum.”

Again there was laughter and Jak felt satisfied. The Squad was loose, calm and confident. It was now just a question of whether and how the Crit would attack.

Though the scientist in Jak cringed at the thought of slagging something so unique among 112 OWs, that soon changed.

As the Pig announced that the creature was approximately nine minutes away, the Crit—or rather parts of it—appeared on the horizon like a dense storm cloud. A sound like the crackle of electric discharge, only nearly as loud as the approach of an air transport cruiser came to their armor-amplified hearing.

The sky noticeably darkened and the volume grew as countless thousands swarmed over and around the force field. The barely visible shield began to spark and sizzle as gray-black Crit creatures—some like bats, others like gigantic butterflies, some looking like flying saucers and even some with whirly-gig, helicopter-like mobility—slammed into the energy field to instantly disappear in a flash of discharge.

Jak watched in awe as more and more of the flying entities, each according to their research, biologically manufactured by the yet unseen host organism, drove itself into instant extermination.

The fence became a constant pulse of energy, a heartbeat of death as the sky continued to darken. More and more of the scouts committed suicide in what Jak knew was an attempt to gain information.

The attack suddenly abated and the flying creatures began circling in a dense, coordinated pattern, reminding Jak of a tornado. There seemed to be millions now and the air thrummed with their presence. To Jak’s trained eye their behavior was clearly social and spontaneous, like the shoaling of fish.

“Maintain external silence,” he sent via NNCom. “Let’s just see what they can do.”

The Crit scouts spaced themselves orderly and continued to accelerate, the sound a vibrant hum the marines could all feel even through their exoskeletons.

The circling creatures began to break off into spear-like extensions to hammer into the force field at distinct locations. Countless numbers gouged at the same spot. Jak saw blue-white ripples of energy shift across the dome to meet the onslaught. With each impact nothing remained of the flying creatures but puffs of gray smoke.

After some 90 seconds—as though a test was over—the violence abated and the encirclement continued. Jak saw that dual-winged creatures like birds and others with four-wings, like insects—but the size of eagles—had joined the throng. They all flew smoothly, gracefully and swiftly.

Data from the force field indicates the creatures’ mass to weight ratios is avian similar, with a muscular system wrapped onto a skeletal framework. They are carbon based and constantly emit electromagnetic wave communication back to the host. Their intercommunication appears to be visual only. Most of the data relayed to the host is also visual information, but there is some kind of tactile analysis achieved despite such brief contact with the energy field. That is being communicated as well.

Unknown, but based on the observed behavior, it is likely the host organism will also attempt a breach. They are, after all, propagation of the same being and under its direct control.

“Damn,” Jak muttered, awed by the raw computing power behind what he was witnessing.

“Power up marines,” Jak said, breaking the silence. “Forget EPA and slag at will. Just make sure everything is a kill shot. Let’s go marines, take ‘em out of the sky.”

The ring of flying creatures continued to change, individuals appearing larger and faster, the swarm so dense it appeared as though night were about to fall. The hum of vast machinery filled the air.

Jak began catching the occasional, lightning bolt flare of slag cannon fire flashing through the fence.

Species HUB-16f-v7 directly below island and ascending. Will reach surface in 27 seconds and counting.

Jak studied the cyclone-like swirl, realizing that despite the dozens of drone-based explorations over the past decade, they were not prepared for such a blitzkrieg.

No idea it could do this, Jak realized and knew that if the fence went down they were in serious trouble, but immediately dismissed the thought lest it make its way across NNCom.

Species HUB-16f-v7 has yet to encounter anything such as what we’ve done here. You should prepare for an imminent force field breach.

“Great,” Jak muttered. “Stand ready Marines,” he ordered over NNCom. “Here it comes.”

Jak crouched on the rock, elbows planted on his knees, head between gloved hands, eyes shut behind his face plate. He didn’t want to remember anymore.

The DIE soldier opened his eyes. The flume no longer splashed and steam rose in white wafts along the time-worn, smooth sides of the chute. Through his armor he could tell the air temperature was rising. Well, he thought, it is a volcanic outcropping.

His A1 made no reply. With a sigh Jak stood. He was surprised at how normal he felt, at least physically. The meds were working. The fiery feel to his skin had all but abated.

Jak clambered farther up the side of the mountain, trying to put as much distance between himself and the ocean as possible. He reached a suitable outcropping and found he was staring into a puddle of the alien planet’s version of water. He crouched down. He could see his reflection. All that showed that he was human were his chin and jawline. The exterior of his faceplate was not mirrored and showed just a smooth gray surface. The remainder of his body was covered by dark green armor and black cabling. The smell of overripe citrus was strong and the breeze had picked up.

“Kinda look like an alien yourself, Jak,” he muttered, and wondered who he was really talking to. Staring at himself a moment longer he asked, “What time is it at home? Boston?”

Jak managed a smile. Then, breathing deep, recalled the battle against the gigantic alien.

At the Pig's last update the circling flock shifted its flight pattern to rise over what would be the top of the force field dome. Then, over the top of the swath of alien jungle directly in front of Jak, rose species HUB-16f-v7.

Despite months of preparation the size of the beast defied imagination. Ascending by dozens of stories in just a few seconds it came to tower before them, a giant, skyscraper-sized being. Planet HUB-16f was filled with vibrant hues of color, therefore Jak found the Crit an unexpected, dull shade of brown, similar to that of the island epidermis. Liquid streamed off its bulk like dozens of giant water falls as it blotted out the horizon. It resembled, if anything in shape and form, an inconcievably enormous worm covered with drill-patterned rows of bristles.

But somewhere within that immensity was a biological assembly line capable of churning out the countless thousands of creatures now swarming above.

It bowed over and Jak found himself staring into the darkness of what he guessed was the cavernous opening of… a mouth? There was surprisingly little sound, though out of it poured countless drones in all shapes and sizes, like millions of bats exiting a cave for a night of hunting and feasting.

Audible gasps came across NNCom. One of the Marines on the outer ring quipped, “And that ladies and gentleman is just the tip of the Crit-berg.”

Hovering a kilometer or so above, hidden in the colorful clouds, the Pig fired rail guns and the top hundred stories of the mother Crit disappeared in a thunderous eruption of red flame and dark smoke.

Jak felt the ground shift beneath him as though tremors were shaking the island.

Before the echoes of the explosions ended another detonation announced a renewed drone attack. Jak gazed up in awe as the creatures hurled themselves into the fence in wave after wave of willful destruction.

Approximately 200 meters of creature destroyed, the shuttle craft announced. Still descending.

“Doesn’t this thing have a brain,” Nikki added across NNCom. “Can’t we just take it out that way?”

“You know we can’t,” Jak answered. “It’s a matrix intelligence so it doesn’t have anything like a central nervous system that we’d be familiar with.”

“I don’t know,” Jak said, while thinking that the creature’s LTD ratio was probably about 100 percent, a supposition he kept to himself.

You are correct. Without the assistance of the command vessel, which is strictly forbidden, it is highly unlikely that we can inflict anything but minor harm to species HUB-16f-v7.

Jak glanced at the science lab. A light coat of soot now covered the plain-looking enclosure. The frantic activity that had to be raging within was hidden from site. He swept his optics back across the perimeter to zoom to the outer edge.

Hundreds of purple vine creatures probed the force field, like the drones, oblivious or unconcerned for their own safety, willingly incinerating themselves for the sake of finding a potential weakness in the energized barrier.

A message carried across NNCom from the scientists within the research container: “Force field power to density ratio now equal.”

“Damn,” Jak muttered, wondering how the fence had reached its maximum output so quickly.

Again shifting tactics, the drones now circled the force field with a dizzying array of multiple rings. They simultaneously attacked the barrier from all angles, ramming themselves into oblivion, the thousands of impacts making the fence seem to glow with constant energy.

And yet it seemed that for every suicidal scout, two more took its place. Jak had to remind himself that each creature was no more vital to the host organism than a single strand of hair.

“The fence is gonna need everything you can give it,” Jak immediately sent over NNCom. “Whatever it takes.”

Questions from his Squad peppered their way across NNCom and Jak quickly quieted his team ordering, “Stay fast marines. Focus on the larger drones. Leave the mother organism to the Pig. This is what we trained for. Slag at will.”

This time the Crit didn’t just poke one end of itself out of the ocean, but sent several, mountain-like loops hurtling over the top of the surrounding vegetative edge.

Rail guns hailed down destruction from the Pig, pummeling the alien. There was a confusion of multiple hits and powerful explosions. Enormous chunks of Crit ricochet off the fence and purple splotches of alien guts splattered and sizzled. The tumult of noise was deafening despite their armor's auditory protective measures and the force field blazed in defiance; that was, until one skyscraper sized loop made its way over the plantae outskirt to loom above them, obliterating the sky before slamming into the energized barrier.

The sound was that of a moon-mining slag cannon recoil and Jak and all of the mechanized marines were thrown, rag-dollish to the ash covered ground as the fence went down—but luckily not before a last, powerful surge rebounded the Crit away so that its enormity didn’t crush the soldiers. It skidded through the jungle, smashing away a 100-meter section of vegetation before sliding out of site into the alien ocean.

The entire island shifted and trampoline-like, Jak bounced high into the air. Despite his armor he landed painfully.

Then, with no more fence for protection, in all their countless thousands the drones were upon them.

Jak was seated, legs splayed out in front, leaning back with his hands behind him, palms down for support. He couldn’t help a morbid chuckle.

Mind strangely blank, Jak forced himself to think of home. He recalled the faces of his parents, his sister, his favorite uncle, his best friends… his one-time lovers. He remembered meeting Nikki for the first time when they began training for this mission.

“All right,” he said softly, staring out from the small outcropping across the ocean at the strange, living island where so recently a terrible battle had raged. “Now’s as good a time as any. No assimilation of this marine. Let’s blow this joint.”

Very well. Are there any last words? I can release a dispatch? There is a 30-percent chance it will be received.

“No bud,” Jak said softly. He was breathing fast now, as though he had just sprinted. “We do all that stuff before leaving the mother ship. Just in case, ya know?”

Jak forced a chuckle. “Just deliver your own update. You’re the one who’s gonna live forever.”

The majority of the Crit drones immediately attacked the science lab, as though knowing it was the key to why the strange visitors were there. Soon the square structure was buried beneath a churning, seething mass of scouts.

Almost as an afterthought some of the organisms attacked the marines who, at least temporarily, had few problems slagging away anything that approached. Jak told his A1 to handle his shoulder cannons and for a moment was able to concentrate on the carnage at hand.

Ignoring the heavy, rhythmic thump of the guns swiveling and firing so close to his auditory channels, Jak took in the scene around him.

The marines were handling themselves remarkably, using the slag carbines on each heavily armored arm as well as their shoulder cannons to wreak havoc on the flying drones. The creatures were falling out of the sky by the thousands and the air was filled with purple Crit gut and clouds of smoke.

Jak looked up, spotted an adequately sized flying drone and timed his leap. The legs of his exoskeleton propelled him several meters upwards so that one robotic, yet dexterous hand could snatch a bat-shaped creature out of the air.

He landed with the alien squirming in his grasp, but it was no match for his armor strength. Holding each wing he took a moment to study the alien organism.

It had a skeleton-like framework where attached connectors seemed to function like muscles, twisting and contracting as it struggled to escape his grasp. He could see clearly its inner workings as there was nothing skin-like or even anything that suggested organs. It had a half-meter, cigar-shaped body with solid, football shaped sections on either end. One of those opened a slit-like partition and a gooey, black substance ejaculated onto his helmet.

Instantly his armor emitted a powerful electric discharge, vaporizing whatever had landed on him.

Jak whistled, knowing that it was literally millions of times more powerful than the sulfuric acid that he’d used in chemistry lab as a teenager. Without the metalform in his robotic exoskeleton it would have eaten through the joints of his armor.

This is all happening too fast, he thought. No time to adjust. Why weren’t we more prepared?

Now, adding to the frenzy of activity, the screams of the geological surveyors carried across NNCom. “They’re inside,” came a desperate voice over a chorus of gurgled cries.

Fighting back the instant nasea in his gut and the clamoring of doubt hammering at the core of his thinking, Jak snapped, “Take it out NOW!”

Cannon fire rained down from the Pig and the lab was obliterated in a controlled explosion. A scant few seconds later all that remained was a glowing, gaping crater in the island epidermis.

A buzzing noise drew Jak’s attention and he looked down at the drone still clenched in his armored hands. From the opposite end of the acid spewing opening came what appeared to be plasma discharge, arcing into the stomach area of his armor, which insulated him from harm.

Impressed by the simple creature’s deadly repertoire of weaponry, he nevertheless tore it apart and dropped it to the ground.

“We need to get out of here,” Jak sent over NNCom, and ordered the Pig to immediately descend for rescue.

Unfortunately for Jak and his fellow soldiers, with the lab gone, the drones turned their full attention on the marines, swarming from all directions like angry bees protecting their hive.

Bellows and war cries flashed across NNCom and the soldiers unleashed all of their firepower. Once again the landing area burst with billowing ash and thick, dark smoke.

Switching his optics to 360-degree panorama, Jak used his right arm to slag a steady, deadly stream that he wove sword-like through the thickest groups of swooping Crit drones. As his shoulder mounted cannons continued to operate under the control of his A1, Jak brought up his left arm for intermittent bursts to incinerate the more dense groups and larger, aggressive individuals.

His A1 automatically protected his auditory channels and it was as though he were fighting in a vacuum, the detonation of slag all around him reduced to dull thumps and thuds.

Finding that at least for the moment his situation grim but nevertheless unscathed, he ordered across NNCom for his Squad to check in.

The arriving messages were varied and extreme and Jak was stunned to feel the unmistakable concussive impact of marines self-detonating.

“Fuck,” Jak spat, listening as one after another marine conveyed dire situations, several of which reported Crit creatures had slipped inside the hail of gunfire to make physical contact despite all of their armaments.

He bound past the smoking, blackened hollow where the science lab had stood just moments ago, speeding through a cauldron of smoke and debris, flashes of slag fire blazing all around him like lightning in the dark and turmoil of storm.

His A1 led him to Nikki—or rather the mass of Crit creatures that had engulfed her. Stunned at the horror of the roiling mound of that made Jak think of rotten meat and squirming maggots, he didn’t bother signing and screamed across NNCom, “Electrify exoskeleton now Lieutenant!”

Ash and debris welled up around Jak as he skidded to a stop just meters from the writhing pile of creatures on top of his second in command.

Without thinking Jak’s left arm came around and a wide bloom of slag burst out, incinerating the entire mound of creatures along with Nikki underneath. Before the shock of what he’d done could sink in, with his own guard down, he was simultaneously struck from several directions as the drones ruthlessly swarmed upon him.

Tumbling to the ground Jak rolled his huge exoskeleton several times and ordered his A1 to electrify. Any scouts still clinging to his armor were burnt to a crisp. He came to his feet quickly with a bloom of fine ash around him, feeling coolant surge through his endoskeleton, a safeguard against the heat radiating from the potent discharge of his outer layer.

Both shoulder cannons resumed their steady thrum of destruction and he wove his arms in figure eight patterns, slagging apart clouds of Crit creatures as they relentlessly stormed towards him.

Back to back explosions reduced the number of fighters to five and once again Jak had to focus his attention on the masses of Crit drones dive bombing with abandon.

He moved closer to the blast area of the lab, managing not to look at the heap of scorched Crit creatures and twisted, melted metal where Nikki had died moments ago. Again gaining a moment of respite, he optimized his optics so that his vision cut through the dense smoke and debris.

Shadowed, armored figures came bounding through the ash-strewn carnage. Crit drones buzzed around them like a demonic horde of giant, carnivorous insects.

Once they had closed, Jak ordered, “Circle up,” and the marines went back to back several meters apart, a five-sided barrier of slag and cannon fire that at least for the moment kept the swarming drones at bay.

The creatures, continuing to act more like a single organism than multiple individuals, suddenly let up their attack, and—as they had with the force field—began circling the marine’s mechanized pentagon.

Jak risked a glance up to spot the shuttle craft descending out of the multi-hued sky straight towards them, spinning slowly as its landing thrusters blazed yellow. Its bay door was already opening.

Again acting as one, the entire mass of Crit creatures streamed upwards. The Pig’s guns slammed through the fast approaching horde but couldn’t find them all. The shuttle was hit by hundreds, then thousands of the creatures. At the same time, to his horror, Jak saw the host organism once again rise with awe-inspiring majesty over the jungle-like canopy of the island, a towering, seemingly indestructible colossus.

From its newly grown, mouth-like orifice a tsunami of liquid vomited forth and tree-trunk-thick, purple-hued Flagella like tendrils shot out to wrap onto the ship.

The million tonne Pig was flung downwards like a toy and disappeared into the wall of alien vegetation, followed immediately by a thunderclap explosion that shook the island epidermis like an earthquake. Ash billowed into the air and flames shot well over the 60-meter height of the plantae canopy.

The Crit appeared as though it had a mane of fire and smoke as it towered above the inferno of the Pig’s demise. Then, as though in slow motion, the alien monstrosity began to bend towards the marines.

The drones immediately resumed their relentless dive bombing, only this time they had additional help, as, all around the marines, purple vine creatures burst directly out of the ash-strewn surface to immediately attack.

Two soldiers were quickly wrapped up and yanked violently to the ground. They had no choice but to self-detonate.

Despite the close proximity of the explosions Jak remained upright, his A1 blasting away with his shoulder cannons while his arms swept away dense packs of drones with powerful bursts of slag. Another marine—Het—was immediately to his right and doing the same while behind them a third marine fired steady and true; that was, until the sky darkened and Jak looked up to stare into the cavernous orifice of the Crit host looming above.

Whip-like, another, massive appendage uncoiled from the shadows and wrapped around the soldier and yanked him upwards.

When the marine disappeared into a canyon-like maw, Jak caught the bloom of self-detonation and the monstrous creature visibly shuddered.

Good to know we can hurt you, Jak thought and immediately had to focus the full power of his arm cannons to slag several more flagella-like extensions surging towards them.

They bound past the blackened crater where the science lab had sat and accelerated across the clearing.

Jak could see dozens of purple vine creatures gesticulating in the air, as if beckoning the soldiers forward, eager to gain retribution for the damage to their home.

“Keep those fuckers off me,” Jak said grimly and his A1 responded with increased shoulder cannon fire.

Jak augmented his speed until his mechanized frame was hurtling forward in 10-meter strides.

“We’re gonna hit the edge full on, slag a path through this shit ‘till we reach ocean.”

Het wanted to ask, ‘and then what’, but kept it to himself, knowing that following the simple rule of engage and retreat was the only thing that might keep their LTD above zero. At least for a bit longer.

Within 200 meters of the vegetative wall the ground shifted crazily beneath their feet and both Jak and Het nearly fell. Their lower-limb servos compensated and they regained their bearing to again sprint forward, only now it was up an incline.

Host organism stretching across mesoglea in pursuit, Jak’s A1 needlessly informed him.

One-hundred meters from the vegetative wall, Jak and Het began thrusting their armored arms forward like a boxer throwing punches. Each blow sent a shard of slag to rip through the thick growth ahead to begin clearing a tunnel.

Once they entered the darkness of the jungle, thigh-thick purple vines shot out from either side in an attempt wrap onto the marines. Behind them, like an angry snake returning to its burrow came a dense mass of Crit drones.

Weaving his arm carbines with knife-like stabs, Jak slashed his way past attacking vines. His shoulder cannons rotated into position to renew their staccato firing under his A1’s guidance.

Most armored warriors—even the most highly skilled—are limited to their robotic exoskeleton mimicking their own physiological capabilities, but not so with Jak. Keying on proximity readouts on his 360-degree panaromic optics, he spun the armored extensions of his robotic wrists in a manner that would have broken bones, shooting and slashing in seemingly all directions at once. He cast optic inputs to the rear to aid the aim and firing of his A1 while also peering into the dense vegetation ahead to gauge the attack of the killing vines before they even arrived.

That was not so the case with Het. When a strangled cry carried across NNCom, Jak spun on ankle servos in time to see his fellow marine, each armored leg and arm encircled by heavy purple vines, self-detonate.

His armor protected him from the heat of the explosion and his endoskeleton visor shielded his eyes; nevertheless, Jak instinctively threw up a robotic arm against the thermal blast.

He bound forward, slashing away the ever aggressive vines, cognitively ordering his A1 to direct one of his shoulder cannons ahead to continue clearing a tunnel through the ever denser plantae of planet HUB-16f.

He fought through the rubble of destroyed plant life. The tunnel he’d created smoldered with glowing embers of dying vegetation and plumes of dark smoke filled the passageway, but Jak’s optics compensated and his speed never slowed.

He could hear the angry buzz of the Crit drones behind him and managed to override his natural sense of balance to continually swivel around on ankle servos, taking out those pursuing creatures that managed to penetrate within his shoulder cannon’s range of fire—all while maintaining his forward momentum

Then the mesoglea epidermis began to vibrate and Jak felt as though he were running across a trampoline.

“Where’s the water,” he asked, breathless, forgetting the planet’s liquid ocean was anything but.

Behind him the mother Crit smashed through the thick growth, an impossibly large, unstoppable freight train. The purple vine creatures launched themselves in whip-like attacks. Jak’s A1 injected dangerously high doses of adrenaline and finally, with a carnal roar, a mighty, 30-meter bound carried the DIE solder to the brink of the ocean.

Jak careened crazily on the epidermal edge of the mesoglea, 20-meters above the liquid, mechanical arms spinning. The volcanic outcropping sat some 400 meters away from the certain death of the island, a chance oasis across an ocean of doom.

As the drones circled and the purple vines posed like cobras, the mother alien loomed over Jak in all of its unearthly enormity.

Without hesitation the marine crouched on his mechanized legs and shot forward. With arms stabbed headfirst he disappeared into the alien ocean.

Jak lay on his back, strangely at ease. He stared up at the alien sky, reds, purples and yellows all swirling in a kaleidoscope display.

Aloud he said, “Hey, why haven’t we been blown to smithereens?” And he managed to force a frightened, but defiant laugh.

He sat up, surprised that he was able to breathe normally, the expression of course, hidden behind his endoskeleton visor.

Still, there came no answer from the inner voice of which he was so familiar for so many years.

As soon as Jak hit the liquid he sank rapidly. His A1 automatically fired plasma rockets attached to the robotic extensions below his feet. The powerful thrust righted his decent and shot him forward. He tucked his armored arms against his body and spread mechanical fingers out to the side to act as fins.

The intense heat of the rockets quickly built and spread to the cavity that held his body.

Jak screamed in pain as he sped through the water, his exoskeleton beginning to glow an angry, orange-red hot.

There was a high-pitched whistling in his years and Jak realized he was screaming.

Numb from the agony Jak was barely aware as the exoskeletal framework fractured away around him and shattering into nothing assimilative. With one last thrust before also breaking off to self-destruct, his leg rockets sent him tumbling pell-mell onto the rocky shore of the volcanic outcropping.

Using the last of his strength he crawled forward as far as possible then rolled onto his back and passed out.

Jak lay on his back, on the volcanic rock, staring up at the ever-changing swirl of planet HUB-16f’s alien atmosphere.

“Jak,” a voice said softly, barely more than a whisper. It was a woman’s voice, gentle—certainly not that of his A1 and not coming from inside his head. She sounded muffled as if she were right beside him, but in another room.

There came the murmuring of several voices, as though others were around, but also not visible.

As expected, his arms and legs were encased in his dark green endoskeleton. Everything appeared… normal; that was, until, his armor seemed to melt away. Above him the alien sky dissolved and everything went white, then, slowly faded to gray and gradually to the emptiness of absolute black.

He lay his head back and felt strangely… comfortable, as though everything was just fine.

“Everything is fine, Jak,” the woman’s voice echoed, as though she too, could hear his A1.

Jak breathed deeply and tried to shake his head, but found he could no longer move that either.

You are temporarily restrained. Please relax. You will be able to see and move freely in a matter of seconds.

“Jak,” the woman said. “You are inside Yellow Corporation Headquarters. You are in our ViW theatre.

“What you have just experienced was virtual—a very, very real, true-to-life simulation; but nevertheless, all that has just happened occurred inside the ViW’s four-dimensional, virtual reality. You have been immersed for the past 18 hours.”

There was a pause and then she added, with what Jak felt was a note of admiration, “You just completed the highest staging of the Levels of Conflict, the final phase of recruitment and training for Yellow Corporation’s Department of Interstellar Exploration.”

Stunned, feeling eerily as though he had suddenly woke from an incredibly vivid dream, Jak asked, “I’m… I’m still in Boston?”

“Yes, Jak. You drove in yesterday morning for this, your final test—Draft Day as you and your comrades so appropriately call it. “You are currently enveloped by a liquid filled ViW body suit that we use to conduct advanced LOCs.”

Jak realized that he was indeed, enclosed in some kind of form fitting, bulky suit. There was water or something mixed with water to make it more viscous. He sensed a full faced regulator attached over his visor. He also realized that he was naked but for an undergarment and the breathing apparatus over his head.

Of course… a ViW liquid suit. It allows them to increase the veracity of the physical experience.

Jak felt the sensation of moving upwards. The form fitting restraints that held his arms, torso and legs eased away and the suit seemed to flow off of him as did the regulator-like apparatus attached to his visor, which, lest he be blinded at the sudden light, slowly eased its reflective protection.

The whir of machinery accompanied him as he moved into a sitting position. Liquid cascaded off his muscular frame.

As his vision cleared, Jak saw that he was surrounded by dozens of people, men and women dressed in the standard white robes of a laboratory—or military-grade, ViW theatre, as was the case.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, still not believing what was actually taking place. “This is… was… so real?”

The woman who had spoken to him stood by his right shoulder. She was tall with pretty, almond-shaped eyes. She had a nice smile.

“For all that matters Jak, it was real,” she said. “And to some degree it will always feel that way, though in the next several hours you'll better be able to draw a cognitive wall between the real world and the virtual realm just visited. For the moment, what is important is for you to realize is that it is over, that it is behind you. You are safe. And most importantly, everyone else on the team is safe.”

An older gentleman with the spider-web wrinkles of one well into triple digits stepped forward, nodding as though in encouragement. His eyes were a startling, bright blue and did not blink.

“Vitals solid and steady,” Jak heard a voice say. He focused on the older gentleman in front of him, realizing that he knew him.

“You… you’re a doctor? Dr. Stephen?” The mad genius of Yellow Corporation, Jak almost added.

He smiled, adding, “It’ll all come back to you. The Levels of Conflict is an intense ordeal. It takes even the strongest at least a few hours to recover; needless to say, you’ll be under our strict medical supervision for the next 48 hours.”

“Yes, immediately report for departure,” he answered. “To Ceres. To meet Tu-Gin—the real, Corporal Tu-Gin,” and Dr. Stephen chuckled, a dry sound, like hands softly clapping.

“Young man,” he continued, “you’ll soon realize that what we just put in your head is temporary. Once you reach Ceres you’ll meet the rest of the Squad of which you are to command. The ViW you just experienced, our most advanced Levels of Conflict ever programmed and years—decades really—in the making, introduced you to their virtual psyches and to planet HUB-16f, at least as much as we know about it at this time. The background training we installed in your memory is based on previous curriculums. Believe me, you’ll get to know your Squad and what HUB-16f is really like soon enough. You’ll make many preparatory visits before the real mission takes place.”

Jak felt hands and towels moving over his body as he was helped out of the ViW suit. His face shield and helmet were peeled off and a robe draped over his shoulders. He stood on his own. It was warm. He felt perspiration on his face.

The same voice from the background excitedly announced, “Spike the grid, he cleared 9,000 points. That’s a new standard.”

“Very real people, Jak. They’ve all been through this. Well, Tu-Gin’s Draft Day was years ago."

There was another chuckle and he added, "I was in charge of that little gem too. Anyway, we saved you for last.”

Overwhelmed with confusion and the sudden reality of what he’d been through—and not actually been through—Jak found he was at a loss for words despite the flood of questions pouring through his mind.

“This will make sense,” Dr. Stephen said. “Planet HUB-16f and the Crit—and that is what we call them—are very real and not going anywhere. Neither are the metalform deposits.

“You and your Squad are going there, but not for a while, not until we have a lot more questions answered,” and he chuckled again. “Believe me, we, you—Yellow Corporation, will be much better prepared then what you just experienced. Your LOC is nothing like the true mission is to be. We made sure that everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.”

“Passed?” Dr. Stephen asked more than said. He stepped forward to reach out and shake Jak’s hand with a grip still firm despite more than a dozen decades spent in research.

“Let’s just say you didn’t disappoint. A record score. Well done young man. You are going to explore the galaxy. You will see and experience amazing things—do things no human has seen or done before. Welcome Jak, welcome to Yellow Corporation’s Department of Interstellar Exploration.”