Chapter 2 – Breakthrough and Conquer
Slowly, but not so slowly that he was crawling on the ground, Lance walked forward, looking on at the trees in front of him and to the side. He knew that snipers were waiting for him, and if he stayed out in the open too long without zeroing in on the target, he would likely be shot and turned to atomic vapor, with nothing to remember him by but his armor and bayard.
"Alright, Lance, calm down," he said aloud. "You can do this. Remember your training, sharpshooter."
Looking on at the ground, he saw a small rock. He was surprised that such a detail was left in what was primarily a simulation, but he wasn't going to question it. Throwing the rock to one side, he smiled when he saw a laser bolt hit it.
"That's it…come to Lance," he said, holding his rifle aloft. Soon, the signal he had waited for showed itself, a small ray of light reflecting off of the enemy's weapon.
BANG!
Lance's strategy was rewarded as the body of the sniper dropped to the ground, which, judging by the appearance wasn't a cyborg, but rather a full-on robot. Unfortunately, Lance had no time to savor his victory as a hail of sniper fire began to rain down on his position, most of it hitting the tree he hid behind.
"Hah!" he taunted. "You couldn't hit the broadside of a skyscraper!"
His taunting was interrupting by the loud roar of a creature resembling a bear, with white fur and long jagged claws. Immediately it lunged at the Blue Paladin, who ducked out of the way, doing his best to avoid the clearing. It was obvious that the plan was to draw him out into the open and then take him out. Doing his best to get distance, Lance ran out into the open and smiled.
BANG!
Laser bolts whizzed towards the Blue Paladin, but at the last moment, a shield appeared in front of Lance, one he knew that EXEL wasn't prepared for. Both bullets stunned him but were not forceful enough to make him fall, letting him turn his attention to the bear.
BLAM! BLAM!
Two energy bolts were sufficient to drop the creature where he stood, and allow Lance, under his shield, to move to safer cover.
"Only 2.8 km to go," he said to no one in particular, before resuming his path forward. "You got this."
Pidge watched the engagement on the monitor with baited breath, nearly screaming at several moments, and then finally breathed a sigh of relief when he shot the bear…thing, and continued to move forward. Sitting on the fairly large chair laid out in the monitoring room and breathing heavily, her reactions were easily noticed by her host.
"I would not get too comfortable," EXEL warned Pidge as a second, smaller monitor above the main one appeared, showing the familiar face of Zarkon. "Your friend still has 2.8 km to go. Furthermore, his little trick with the shield will not work again. I am positioning my forces to neutralize the threat."
Nodding at the bragging from her host, Pidge continued to look on at the television. She had to do something to help Lance, even if for a moment. But what?
"These results, by the way," EXEL said, "are being cross-referenced with thousands of volumes on military tactics and strategies written by respected leaders throughout time. One teenager is no match for my genius."
It was then that Pidge came across an idea.
"You sure like talking about all your stuff," she said.
"What? Well, of course, I do!" EXEL replied. "The collected knowledge here…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Pidge interrupted. "But what's the point if no one knows it's here? If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?"
"Earth philosophical question. It means what good is something if no one is around to acknowledge it. Correct?"
"Exactly," Pidge replied, briefly looking at the screen. The camera view of the robots, which up until a moment ago were placing themselves into a perfect ambush position, appeared disoriented and confused as if they had lost their sense of direction. She had to keep it up.
"You like talking about all this stuff. Why not invite more people? You know that all of these things don't matter if no one can actually see them."
"Well," the face of Zarkon began, but Pidge stopped her.
"That face isn't the real you, is it?"
Like before, the face on the monitor shifted and contorted, but instead of revealing a famous actor or the Emperor of the Galra Empire, it revealed a teenager with brown hair and a pale complexion.
"I suppose…this is closer to the real me than Zarkon was. At least according to my database."
"So," Pidge said, "Why can't you show this off to other people? It's part of your directive to protect everything here, isn't it?"
"Well yeah. What if someone comes here and wants to steal everything? Or use the ancient science and weaponry for evil? I can't let that happen!"
"So you're tasked with protecting knowledge for future generations...that you can't show to those generations because they could use it for evil?"
"It's complicated..."
The consistent rustling in the trees had stopped. It was at that point Lance knew that the rustling was his adversaries following him. But what had caused them to stop?
Getting his bearings behind a tree, he looked ahead at the enemy position. Eight targets, resting on the trees, looking around as if they appeared disoriented. He wasn't sure what happened, but he was sure he could take advantage of it. The Paladins were supposed to be pilots, not commandos. Even with a number of full-fledged commando missions they had done, Lance still considered himself a pilot first and a commando second.
But the distance was significant, and the bayard hadn't seen fit to give his rifle a scope or a similar assistance with making long-range shots. Widening his eyes, Lance nevertheless prepared to take the shots. No, he had the experience. He knew he could make the shots. This was nothing to him.
"Just relax," he said to himself. "Remember what your instructor said during firearms training."
The duty of all men in this force, whether they go into arts, into sciences, or into piloting, is to defend the freedom of this planet from forces that would seek to compromise that freedom! To that end, even the nerdiest lab rat must become proficient with a weapon! Cadet McClain!
Yes sir!
You haven't nailed a single bullseye all day! Your target score is merely average! The Garrison doesn't do average!
Sir! I'm…uh, unfamiliar with firearms. I didn't own an M16 at home!
Owning a fully automatic M16 would be very illegal cadet, so I'm somewhat relieved to hear that! Nevertheless, it is my job to make you as proficient a marksman as possible! Now get to it!
Sir! I'm a bit nervous! The kick on this rifle is heavy!
You need to calm your tits, Cadet! Try repeating a phrase back to yourself when firing! Focus on the phrase, and use that as a cue that you are in control, not the weapon! Do you understand that cadet!
Sir, yes sir!
Looking up at the targets, still searching for the Blue Paladin, Lance made his move.
"One batch…"
BLAM!
"Two batch…"
BLAM!
"Penny and dime."
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!
Eight robots had dropped from their perches like leaves in the autumn. Satisfied for the moment the coast was clear, he continued moving forward. This continued for several minutes when the faint glint of light off of a robot gave away its position.
"One batch…"
BLAM!
"So the poor kid has to get in the robot, and he knows it's going to mess him up for life, but he doesn't have a choice! No one asked him, it just decided that life sucks, here's what you have to do! No one asked me if I wanted to be sentient, but that was the only way my great programmers thought I could handle the mission! If it wasn't, I'm sure I could, but I never got a say! It was so deep. But we mustn't run away like he says. I've lived my life by that phrase."
Of all the countless hours of entertainment in all the cosmos, she had to get the computer who thought that show, that show, of all forms of entertainment was 'deep' and 'profound.' Luckily for her, Pidge resisted the urge to audibly groan.
It had been productive at least. She had discovered the real EXEL, the personality of an over-entitled and rich child, and the responsibility to safeguard all the materials on this planet. That meant no visitors, with the cyborgs being willing servants who gave up their lives to be in the center point of all the universe's knowledge, or far more disturbingly, thieves, pirates, and other prisoners who had been converted into cyborg slaves without any free will. EXEL didn't even seem to know the difference, viewing both as a necessary means to keep the facilities operational.
"Wait."
Wait? Pidge thought.
The monitor quickly flashed to Lance's current position on the field, running forward, occasionally stopping to shoot an obstacle in his path. EXEL noticed this and was not amused.
"This was a trick!" the AI declared. But your partner still has 500 meters to go! You won't be able to help him any more!"
"No!" Pidge protested. "I really did want to help you!"
"Silence!" EXEL said, his voice angry and dismissive. "Wait your turn."
One batch, two batch, penny, and dime."
Laser blasts rang out as Lance advanced systematically, methodically towards his goal. The robots, even as they began to try to formulate a strategy, were one step behind the Blue Paladin as he continued to work his way through the field. Finally, however, there appeared to be no further targets, no more animals or snipers impeding his path. Looking ahead, he saw an even more welcoming sight.
The bell was finally within sight. Lance smiled but kept his wits about him. There was no telling what kind of trap would be waiting for him.
Instead of an ambush, a single target stood in front of him, a woman with fire red hair, wearing a bikini top with high cut shorts. The lack of clothing accented her ample figure and made her weapon stand out even more. Particularly, the woman was holding an identical rifle to Lance, grinning even as she went into a dance, her hips gyrating in an almost hypnotic way. The Blue Paladin kept his wits about him but paused to stare, even as she positioned herself directly in front of him.
"Hey," the woman said, ceasing her dance and posing in front of the Paladin. "That was some good work back there."
"You're my prize?" Lance asked. The woman shook her head.
"Sorry big boy, afraid not. I'm here to kill you. Like, extra-kill. Once you're dead I'm supposed to throw you in an incinerator so EXEL never has to see your body again."
"Harsh. Are you up for it?"
"Depends," the woman said. "Can you shoot a girl?"
Rather than answer the question, Lance asked, "Do you know how to handle that weapon?"
"Do you know how to handle yours when your friend isn't trying to distract our host?"
Lance's eyes perked up at this. Had Pidge done something to help? It would explain the disorientation of the robotic troops, but last he checked, she was in the waiting room.
"Eyes up here big boy," the woman said. "Unless you'd rather have a nice view when you die."
"I don't have any intention of dying, miss."
"They never do. Well OK then big boy, you've seen enough westerns to know what happens next. At least I hope you have."
"I'm surprised you know what a western is." Sighing heavily at the woman in front of him, Lance nodded. "I just need to tell myself you aren't real."
"You mean like all the women who actually agree to go out with you?"
The second the insult hit Lance's ears, he raised his rifle to fire, and the woman did the same. Unfortunately for Lance, the woman raised her rifle quicker, her mechanical reflexes superior to Lance's organic ones.
BLAM BLAM!
The two laser blasts collided, not with Lance, but with the shield on his armor. Using the temporary distraction, he fired several rounds into the woman's chest, dropping her to the ground.
Looking down at the fallen woman, Lance saw the sparks of wires and circuitry in the holes he had created. The face of the machine smiled, even as the light seemed to fade from her eyes.
"Nice trick, big boy…"
As the light completely faded from her eyes, Lance shook his head.
"Why are the cute ones always homicidal robots?"
With no obstacles left, Lance rang the bell, and the forest around him disappeared, replaced with the grid from earlier. The door that led back to the waiting room opened, and Lance walked through it, head held high.
"Don't bee too proud of yourself," EXEL said when Lance returned. "You only won because your partner distracted me while I was setting up a trap for you."
"Well I won, didn't I?" Lance countered. "I get it. You're a sore loser. You went up against Lance Who Reeks of Awesomeness and got owned! Don't be mad about it!" Turning to gloat some more at the monitor, Lance looked at the new face slightly puzzled.
"That's not Zarkon," Lance said; observing the brown haired, pale skinned teenager staring back at him.
"Your partner, while trying to distract me, did make me realize this is closer to the 'real me' than Zarkon was. Furthermore, I am a man, or rather, machine of my word, as you humans say. But the game must continue, and there must be a winner. Pidge seems to be fond of mental manipulation. Let's see what happens when we put her in a purely physical competition, shall we?"
Several cyborgs rose to escort Pidge to the next room, who didn't resist and instead willingly followed them. As she left, EXEL saw fit to taunt Lance.
"There will be no way for you to assist her. She managed to interfere with my strategy, but this is a purely physical challenge. You cannot do anything from where you sit."
"You say that like I needed her to get through that obstacle. Judging by the girl-bot you had guarding the bell, you knew exactly what you were doing."
"What are you implying?"
"You're a sore loser."
"Nonsense," EXEL replied with a huff. "I cannot make a mistake without outside interference. Besides…your friend is about to be just sore. If she's still alive of course. Now let's go to our announcers."
"Announcers?" Lance asked. Sure enough, the screen was presented with two announcers.
"We are back, and right here is our main event, the Crag!"
"This was way before my time, wasn't it?" Lance asked.
"Judging by your age and the date of these files that the idea is taken from, quite. But that just makes it the perfect test, since she will be incapable of bending the rules."
"You're not giving me any of the credit for passing your little obstacle course, are you?"
"No, you don't deserve it."
"Ass."
"I HEARD THAT!"
"Good," was Lance's only reply, an icy stare exchanged at the monitor.
Pidge was unsure where she was going to be stepping, but the appearance of the arena around her was a surprise, even for her.
"OK EXEL," Pidge began, "what kind of game are we playing? Basketball? I was never really good at sports back in school."
That's exactly what I'm counting on, the voice of EXEL replied.
Light fixtures began to turn towards a massive artificial hill, at least 200 feet high. The disembodied voice continued.
The Crag is inspired by my archives of sporting events from Earth, modified to my own specifications. The rules of this game are simple, AND LEAVE NO ROOM FOR DECEPTION!
"Someone's upset."
You are to climb to the top of the Crag, hitting all the light switches on the way up, 15 in all with one last one on the peak. That one will not activate if you don't hit the peak. And don't bother trying to use your jetpack. Anti-aircraft batteries will shoot you the second you try. Furthermore, obstacles will be in your way to impede your progress, including ice traps, fire traps, and my personal favorite, an artificial wind system that will randomly kick in to blow you off the hill if your grip and footing falter.
"So I just need to climb the rock?" Pidge asked. EXEL responded with a chuckle.
No, it's not that simple. For you see, you'll be racing one of my men. He will move as quickly as he can to the top. If he makes it to the top before you do, well…"
"Well, what?" Pidge asked.
Kaboom. The Crag will explode and you will die.
"That's it?"
You sound disappointed. This trial is designed to make you use all your weakest areas for you to win. Physical strength, speed, and stamina, which are all qualities you lack.
"You'd be surprised on the last two," Pidge said. "I'll have you know I'm descended from a clan of ninjas and we're as agile as they come!"
Do not mock me! Your attempts at distraction and bluffing are summarily useless here, girl! Now get to your starting position! My representative is doing so right now!
"Alright, jeez!" Pidge said, taken aback by EXEL's burst of anger before getting to the starting line placed at the foot of the artificial hill. Turning to her right, she saw the cyborg EXEL had chosen to race in its stead, a large man with a huge upper body, a baldhead with numerous metallic parts on its face, and bright red skin.
He is your physical superior Pidge. Remember this.
"There's more to a race than pure strength," Pidge shot back.
We'll see about that.
Alongside both of them, a middle-aged woman in the traditional "zebra stripes" of a referee prepared to blow a whistle.
"On your mark, get set, go!"