--Chapter Seven
Fatal Error marched at the head of his army, boldly making his way down the inter-hardware highway cable that led to the computer. Bored of the silence, he decided to make a marching tune. It went something like this:
Fatal: I don't know what I've been told!
Land Mines (in unison): I don't know what I've been told!
Fatal: But we're gonna win a war today!
Land Mines: Hey, that doesn't rhyme!
Fatal stopped his song and replaced it with a simpler "Left, left, left right left." At the same time, he tried to think of words that rhyme with "told." Let's see, there's "bold" and "sold" and "cold" and "mold…" not to mention "old…"
The land mine next to Fatal tried to help him out.
"Um, sir, maybe I can think of a marching tune," it said. Then it sang, "I don't know why I've been orange!"
Fatal closed his eyes, slapped his forehead, and yelled "HALT!" so loudly that his cigarette fell from his mouth. Turning to the mine, he began to lose his temper.
"ORANGE? There is no word that rhymes with orange! And even if there were, that song doesn't make any sense! Are you stupid or something?"
The bomb started to whimper, then sob. In a few seconds, it broke down completely. Another land mine patted it on the back and looked at Fatal scornfully.
"Now look what you've done. You made Bubba cry."
Fatal couldn't believe this. Really, he was beginning to question just how well he had planned this attack in the first place. He tried to regain his complacency as he lit another cigarette.
"Alright," said Fatal, "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Bubba. But from now on, you only talk when I tell you to talk, and obey my orders! This is a strong army for strong land mines, and I don't like sissies. Remember, all I'm trying to do is help everyone here out. You don't want to go back to the Minesweeper board, do you?"
All of the mines shook their heads.
"Good." Satisfied, Fatal was about to push forward when he heard two voices coming from the other direction. It was a pair of ints, and they were moving toward the monitor.
One was saying, "Hey, Joey, do you think there's something going on in the computer that we don't know about?"
"What do you mean?" asked the other voice.
"I mean, why do we have to carry this sign up to the monitor? I think the queen might be trying to hide something from us, Joey."
"Like what?"
"Like this guy Fatal Error. Why, I heard that Error guy's a real basket case. Legend has it he's an int, but he doesn't like ints at all."
"Oh, yeah. I heard about that… he went insane when everybody he asked out to the prom turned him down flat."
"And then there was that girl who ditched him. I still remember her last words to him: 'Geez, everything about you is byte-sized, isn't it?'"
The two ints started laughing hysterically. But as they looked straight ahead of them, suddenly the joke wasn't so funny anymore. Ninety-nine land mines were frowning and blocking their way. In front, one mine was in the midst of patting a sobbing int in a trench coat on the back.
"Look what you did," said the mine, who the rest of us know as Bubba, "You made Fatal Error cry."
Fatal raised his head from his hands, pointed at the ints, and said in a weak, un-Fatal-like voice, "Charge!"
Ints A and B looked at each other with widened eyes, simultaneously said "Uh oh," dropped the sign, and ran as fast as they could back down the cable. The ninety-nine bombs, who had all been briefed on the battle plan, hurried after them. But their leader, Fatal Error, stayed behind. He took a moment to stop his crying, and then he turned back to march up to the monitor. His bombs would take care of the computer, but in order to detonate them, remember, there must be a person to step on a land mine on the minesweeper board.
Again, Fatal Error exercised that habit of his which we fanfiction authors find very convenient for getting into characters' thoughts: he started talking to himself.
"Alright, everything is going according to plan… or close enough, anyway. All I have to do is go back to the Minesweeper board and step on the square in the top left corner—that's the square where I met that bomb earlier. But now the land mine isn't under the tile; he's in the computer! And when I blow up the computer, there'll be nobody left to run it but me! Any survivors will become my slaves. Not even the Human can stop me now!"
Oh, is that a challenge, Mr. Error?
"What? Who's saying that?"
Do you really think I'm going to let you win?
"Who ARE you? What's going on?"
For your information, Fatal, this is a literary technique known as divine intervention. All I'm saying is, do you really think you can beat the author of this story?
"Ha! Nobody can beat me! Nobody, ya hear?"
Okay, Fatal, have it your way. But when I end this story by chapter 10, don't come complaining to me that I didn't warn you.
With that said, Fatal went on his way, unaware that the undoing of his plot had already begun.
--
Angus DeFrag and Brenda Presario were in high spirits, happy to see that such nice people—if one could call them people—had set them free.
"Thank you so much," said Angus, when he had gotten the gag off his mouth.
The flag in front of him did its best to bow politely, though it soon found that it was stuck standing up straight, no matter how hard it tried to bend.
"Well, I'm glad I could help you two out," the flag said, "here in the Beginner Flag Squadron, we don't get too many visitors. The Human usually plays on the Expert level. He rarely wins, but one has to give him credit for trying, heh heh."
Brenda looked about her. There were ten flags, including the one talking to them now, all looking at them with a fixed gaze of curiosity. Then she realized something.
"Hey, wait a minute, where's Arrow?" she asked.
"Pardon?" said the flag.
"You know, Arrow the mouse. He was taken prisoner the same time we were. Where is he?"
"Oh, yes, the mouse," the flag remembered, "He didn't belong here, so we sent him to a better place." The flag looked up to indicate the sky.
"WHAT?" the ints both shouted.
"He's back on the monitor screen above us, running around and clicking as usual."
The ints sighed with relief.
Then Angus thought to himself for a minute, and then asked, "Oh no, he's not playing Minesweeper, is he?"
"I don't know," said the flag.
"Listen, Mr. Flag—"
"Name's Bottleneck. I used to be on the Expert Squadron, but I pretended to be drunk to get away from their squadron leader, General Herman." Bottleneck shuddered. "That guy gives me the creeps."
"Mr. Bottleneck, we can't let the Human play Minesweeper. If he steps on even one land mine, the entire inthole will explode! Fatal Error has been up to some bad tricks, and we have to stop him."
Bottleneck was confused. "You have to stop Fatal Error, or do you have to stop the Human, or do you have to stop Arrow?"
"All three," Angus answered.
Bottleneck and the nine other flags huddled together and spoke in an inaudible whisper. When they came out of the huddle, Bottleneck seemed resolved.
"Okay, we think we know how to do it, but we would need some help from an intelligence official in the computer, or the inthole, as you call it."
Angus was excited at this statement. "Okay, I think I can set up a line of communication. Do you have a message center somewhere in the monitor?"
"Sure. It's upstairs, second door to the right. Or, in int terms, take the green wire up to the second chip to the right."
"Thanks," said Angus, "and Brenda, I want you to stay here for now. Don't worry, I'll be back soon enough."
Angus ran up the green monitor wire as the flags and the int stayed behind, below.
Brenda looked on hopefully. "Good luck, Angus," she said.
--End chapter seven--
