Rookie Orientation, a missile command fanfic

A/N: Heroes aren't born every day - they're only born once. That might make for an interesting story, however it has absolutely nothing to do with this one...but I saw the empty category for the game Missile Command and was compelled to write something. My first story with footnotes §

Rookie Orientation

"...and in here is where you'll find your new post," a voice could be heard through a heavy metal door. A locking wheel on the door turned and the door swung open to reveal two military men. The first man, older and of obviously high rank, led the younger and inferior officer into the room. "And there is the hot seat," he said while pointing to a padded chair in the center of the room.

"I've always wondered what the real place would look like, Colonel Singleton™. Now I'm actually here," the lieutenant said as he turned his head to take in the room before his eyes rested on the chair. "Looks comfortable."

"It should. The military spent $67,000 alone on just that chair. Give it a try, Nunes."

The lieutenant sat down slowly into the chair. It DID feel comfortable. "It feels like my Lay-Zee Boi® back home."

"That's because they make the chair special for us. The normal one only costs a few hundred, but because we require a special shade of black they take us to the cleaners on the price. Speaking of, don't spill your drink on it - we had them put some of that Scottish Guard® on it but it never works as well as they say it will. You should see my couch back home."

"I can have drinks around the console?" Nunes asked. As he sat in the chair, he was surrounded in the front by panels with blinking lights, switches, and various digital readouts. There was also a large monitor in the center with a control stick directly in front.

"Sure. Remember - you've got a twelve hour shift in this room, so we want you to be as comfortable as possible. We've got a microwave to heat your food, a refrigerator to cool it, a fully-stocked vending machine with free soft drinks, a popcorn popper, coffee maker and a candy dish that is replenished every 24 hours. We have a selection of music on 9-track tapes (Pat. Pending) that you can listen to during your shift, but don't turn the music up too loud or the airport above us will complain about the noise. We've also got a cabinet of rations we've developed we are going to call an MREATU®."

"MREATU®?"

"Meals Ready To Eat And Throw Up. I didn't say they were any good. All we ask is that you refrain from drinking Dr. Peppie© while on the job."

"Why, is it more dangerous to spill on the console than the other drinks?"

"No. I just can't stand the smell. It reminds me of medicine and hospitals and needles."

"Oh, okay. I do have a question, Colonel Singleton©" Nunes asked.

"What did you call me soldier?"

"Sorry sir. I do have a question, Colonel Singleton™."

"That's better. What is your question?"

"I thought that the manning of the console was done by a team of two specialists. I only see one chair."

"Good catch - they told me you had high marks for observation. We've done some extensive testing, and we've determined that it's more stressful to work with someone else than to do all the work yourself. Not surprisingly, that won't work for the whole military but it does have applications for specialized tasks. You're part of a new program, the Foreign Unidentified Body Annihilation Rotation® - or FUBAR - and represent the Lone Wolf™ approach to the problem. It also saves us $67K by eliminating one chair. We reinvest those savings back into provisions by providing the BIG candy bars in the dish, not those wimpy so-called 'fun size' ones that just tease you. Man I hate those," the colonel said as he emptied his pocket of old candy wrappers.

"Are there any other changes from my training?"

The colonel shook his head; fortunately nothing rattled. "No. In fact, let's fire up that monitor and take a look." Colonel Singleton™ reached over and pushed a button. After a short time, the screen brightened to show a blocky landscape below consisting of three hills and the outline of tall buildings repeated six times along the bottom. "As you can see, the operator's screen looks just like the simulation you ran back in training. Take the control and shoot down that cloud."

Nunes eagerly grabbed the control stick and moved it. A crosshair moved across the screen as it approached a blocky cloud that was jerkily moving across the black sky. Nunes pushed a button on top of the stick and a line shot away from a hill, straight towards the cloud. It exploded, but the cloud continued on its path.

"Naturally we don't want you shooting down clouds," the colonel continued. "We use other means for weather control. Using a missile to ruin people's weekend sporting events would be too obvious."

"Is that why I didn't get any score for hitting it?"

"This is not a toy or some fancy game, soldier. The lives of millions of people in six great northern cities is represented by those images down below. Their lives are in your hands. Your job is to stay vigilant and shoot whatever threat approaches our people."

"What about a flock of geese?"

"They're not a threat, although they do make a horrible mess with their...er...waste. But that's for parks and golf courses to worry about, not us. Is that understood, lieutenant?"

Nunes shot to his feet and saluted. "Yes Sir! By the way sir, which city is Denver?"

Colonel Singleton™ looked at the screen and debated a moment before he picked one close to the center. "Um...that one."

"And which one is Helena?"

"Helena didn't make the cut." †

The colonel returned the salute. "Good luck, soldier. Your relief will be here in twelve hours. If you have any trouble, use the hotline to get in touch with HQ©." He did an about-face and marched out of the room after which the door automatically closed and locked.

Nunes tested the responsiveness of the controls and found them as quick as the simulator although he felt the defensive missile took a long time to reach its target. He was tempted to fire on a cloud but refrained as the words of the colonel echoed in his head - until he found that the words were actually coming from a speaker on the console, which he quickly turned the volume down on until it was muted. With that distraction gone, he went through the 9-track tapes (Pat. Pending) and found some music to listen to until the player ate the tape and stopped playing. After an hour he grew bored and started looking around the room, checking back on the monitor frequently for any problems. He explored the refrigerator, the MREATU® cabinet and even tried a soft drink. He sat down with the drink and was tempted to shoot another cloud but looked at the muted speaker and decided against it.

Bored, he got up and was debating whether he wanted to make some popcorn or not when his eye caught some movement on the screen and he dashed over and jumped into the chair, only to have it swivel away from the monitor. He pivoted around and started to grab for the control but stayed his hand when he saw that there was a group of several blips flying horizontally across the screen - geese. He relaxed and went back to trying to make some popcorn without burning more than half the kernels. While carefully salting it, once again something caught his eye but this time the screen was flashing colors. The popcorn bowl fell from his hands in panic, but fortunately it was made of Supperware® and just bounced as he dashed back to his chair. This time, there was a small blip on the top of the screen moving downward slowly, leaving a streak behind it. Wondering why there was no other warning, he remembered he had turned the speaker down and when he turned it back up again he could hear a blaring klaxon.

Maybe a goose died while flying and was now falling to the ground.

Maybe it was a space capsule returning to the Earth.

Maybe another piece of Skylab was finally de-orbiting. ††

Maybe he better call this one in.

He reached for the hotline phone, put in his quarter, and pushed the call button on the device. A calm, reassuring voice came on the line.

Thank you for calling the United States Missile Control help line. Please pay attention to the following menu. Some of the options have changed. Press '1' if you have run out of popcorn, drinks, or snacks. Press '2' if the heating or cooling unit is uncomfortable. Press '3' if your replacement hasn't shown up on schedule. Press '4' to contact the weather service if you couldn't resist shooting down clouds. Press '5' if some of the blinking lights on your console have burned out. Press '6' if your chair won't swivel anymore. Press '7' if you are concerned about activity on your monitor.

Nunes tried to press '7' but there was only the call button on the phone; it had no numeric keypad.

For all other problems please press '8' or stay on the line for a representative. Thank you.

Nunes waited as fast as he could while some hold music played. He kept an eye on the screen, but the blip was still slowly moving down the screen. He traced the straight path the object was taking and saw it would hit away from any cities.

Do to high call demand - as far as you know - please stay on the line. Your call is very important to us© and we will answer calls but not necessarily the questions in the order they are received. In the event that someone invents the internet we will eventually have something called a website you may visit for more information. Thank you.

Nunes drummed his other fingers on the desk. It was just his luck that it was the weekend, so there probably was just one person working the help desk. The message asking to please stay on the line cycled a few more times until a real person interrupted the music, but at that moment the call got disconnected. Resolute, Nunes hung up the phone and grabbed the control. Sweat dribbling down his forehead, he inched the crosshairs to just in front of the blip and fired. He counted the seconds as the missile launched from the hill and sped toward the target. It exploded and a ball of gas expanded and then contracted, leaving nothing behind. Whatever it had been, it wasn't now.

He relaxed in the chair and allowed his heart rate to fall. He even considered eating one of the MREATUs, but decided that he already felt a little queasy from nerves and didn't really want to go calling for Ralph†††

His blood suddenly chilled (or the A/C unit kicked in, it was hard to tell a thousand feet underground) when another blip appeared at the top of the screen. He looked at the telephone and immediately nixed trying that avenue again. After a short time, he saw that this blip's trail indicated it was heading for one of the cities. With some confidence, he aimed and fired another missile which obliterated the bogey. He started to celebrate but noticed another had appeared in the meantime, on the opposite side of the screen. He deftly swung across the screen and knocked that one out and all was quiet again, while his ammo appeared to be restocked.

"Saved a city on that one too! Guess they'll be a few less people Sleepless in Seattle© or whichever city that was," he mused.

The quiet didn't last long. Soon, more incoming trails appeared - as time went on, they became more numerous and appeared to be falling faster. Each wave seemed to speed up and was larger, and he soon found out his strategy of blanketing the sky wasted ammo as he had to be more selective with his shots - sometimes determining where two paths would cross and taking both out with a single missile.

Whoever the enemy was, they soon got smarter and began mixing in drones that fell from the sky while flying in a zigzag pattern and some would even avoid his missile explosions. It was one of these that eventually got one of his cities, and he cried out in anguish as a mushroom cloud developed before leaving a flat space. He was given some hope after the wave ended when the city reappeared - perhaps rescue crews were already finding survivors or surveys found less damage than initially thought.

The carnage only worsened as the enemy relentlessly attacked wave after wave. The next city he lost didn't get replaced, and attrition took out all but Denver, which he saved above all else because he had a cousin that lived there. However, even it was turned into a mushroom cloud in the end and the monitor showed only leveled ground from then on. Nunes sat in disbelief for hours as the room looked back at him. It was the same as when he had come in, except for the popcorn on the floor, the 9-track player slowly spewing audio tape and the screen continually displaying his defeat.

Two hours later Colonel Singleton™ returned and found Nunes sitting stone-faced in the chair, not even acknowledging his superior officer. "Anything interesting to report?" the colonel asked as he leafed through a few papers he had brought along.

"They're dead. They're all dead. I tried my best Sir, but it was too much. I only hope the other sectors did better," he said as he hung his head.

"Let me see," the older man said as he leafed through the papers. "It looks like the West, East and Central regions suffered about the same percentage of casualties during the attack. Zero percent lost."

Nunes looked up slowly. "Zero? But how can that be? Look at the screen!"

The colonel glanced over at the monitor. "Oh yes. They all end that way, eventually. Designed that way, of course. It makes for a great test of character. The real thing isn't nearly as exciting - rather boring actually but still vitally important. One of our most critical jobs."††††

"Exciting TEST?" Nunes asked, incredulous. "Exciting?! I'm a nervous wreck. I'm not going to sleep for a week. Maybe never. I'll have nightmares for years. I just can't take it." He buried his face in his hands.

The senior officer took pity on the younger soldier. "That's okay Nunes. The Missile Command® posting isn't for everyone. Let me walk with you back to the barracks." Patiently he waited while the lieutenant slowly got up and trudged out the door. Following, his voice could be heard down the hallway as the two walked. "Maybe you need something with a lot less people to worry about. How about something out in space? We have this posting called Asteroids®. It's a lot less stressful. Well, at first anyway..."

The End

Footnotes:

§ It might be the last too.

† I'm sure it's a wonderful place, but Helena lacks the population size to rank among the largest northern cities.

†† Nope.

††† See Humor, Seasickness, Sound Effects.

†††† The military is full of critical jobs like General, Doctor, Supply Sergeant and Latrine Specialist© - and if they run low they can always create new critical jobs on the spot.

A/N: An interesting game, but I was never very good at it - it was always sad to see a city go up in a mushroom cloud. Now get me in front of Galaga (assuming a pinball machine wasn't available) and it was a whole different ball of wax!