Matt grabbed the red one and slipped into it, his more muscular frame better filling out the material. As a one-size-fits-all, he still couldn’t make it look good on him.

  We picked up our respective colored helmets and walked over to the other players. I slowed as we approached, lowering my head as a slight sense of vertigo hit me. Matt noticed right away, his eyes flicking toward me, hand reaching out. Remembering what I had said about not treating me like an invalid, he stopped himself, waiting to see if I really needed help. I didn’t.

  “Hey,” Matt said, breaking the ice with the other players. “I’m Matt. This is my friend Ben.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” I added. “Well, everyone on Green, anyway. That excludes you, Door Matt.”

  A few of the players returned the greetings, a few others were too anxious to do more than wave and looked uncomfortable. I understood the feeling. I had been anxious like that too when I was thirteen. But learning to play the guitar and later starting the band with Matt had fixed that.

  “How long until the next match?” the youngest boy asked. Ten years old at best, he looked even more ridiculous in the flight suit than I did. It left me to wonder if maybe the child sizes just hadn’t been delivered yet, considering the place was so new.

  “It says up on the monitors,” an older woman replied. Probably his mother. They were both on green with me. “See.” She pointed to the nearest screen. “Looks like one minute.”

  “This is going to be so cool,” the boy said.

  “Is this your first time?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yup. Have any of you played this one, yet?”

  “I have,” a teenage girl answered. “Twice last week. It’s a lot of fun. You get to choose your ship design and pick a callsign. I guess if you’re with a bunch of people you know you can organize your squadron and try to run plays or something, but fifteen minutes isn’t really enough time to do more than have a free-for-all with strangers.”

  “I’m up for strategy,” I said.

  “Too bad you’re a greenie weenie,” she answered with a smirk.

  She was there with a friend, who giggled as they both turned away from me.

  I shrugged it off, scouting out the other three members of my squad. Another dad bod who was probably the little kid’s father and a pair of high-schooler guys, likely friends. I had noticed the place was thick with people younger than Matt and me, but then it was still early. The adults would probably take over the late night shift.

  The previous game ended, the motion of the simulators settling down as the only two remaining starfighters circled one another under AI control. The players climbed out of their seats and headed toward the equipment rack. A young girl only made it halfway before she turned away from the group, leaned over, and puked on the rubberized floor. She looked mortified when she had finished.

  “Cleanup at Star Squadron,” the man running the game announced over the loudspeaker, as if it was a common occurrence. He hurried over to the girl. “Don’t worry. It happens to someone almost every match.”

  “Uh, I’m starting to have second thoughts about this,” Matt said.

  “You don’t get motion sick,” I replied.

  “Under normal circumstances, no. I think I underestimated the motion of those boxes.”

  “If I can do it, you can do it.”

  “Can you?”

  “Or I’ll die trying,” I joked.

  His expression flattened, uncertain how to react. Then he shook his head. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

  “It is for tonight. No promises tomorrow. Just give me a warning if you’re going to blow, I’ll get it on video.”

  We fist-bumped and went our separate ways. Red against Green.

  This was going to be fun.

  Chapter Six

  The VR simulators were identical for both Mech Jockey and Star Squadron. A padded seat rested behind a short steering column with a joystick, a throttle, and a pair of foot pedals. The whole thing was about the size of a small go-kart and rested on a set of robotic arms that could raise and lower the platform from each corner. It allowed up to twenty degrees of pitch and yaw to help sell the effect of flying.

  The seat also contained a number of haptic sensors to shake the player up whenever they took a hit. The platform didn’t have a monitor and wasn’t enclosed. Instead, all of the visuals took place through the flight helmet, which had adjustable foam padding inside to help it fit snugly around the head.

  I settled in the seat and strapped myself in with a three-point restraint that hugged me almost a little too tightly between the legs. I looked directly across from me to the Red Squadron setup Matt had claimed. He smirked and offered me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture before putting on the flight helmet, messing with it for a minute to make it rest more comfortably. The visor came down far over my eyes, leaving a small gap just below my nose so I could easily flip it up if I needed to make a quick return to reality in the midst of the simulation. After seeing the girl puke on the mat, I understood why the escape was necessary, though I would have preferred a fully enclosed experience.

  I didn’t leave the visor down. Curiosity got the better of me, and I raised it to look over at the boy, who had taken the simulator next to mine. The helmet was comically big on him, the visor nearly down to his mouth. Again, it occurred to me that VR Awesome! wasn’t very prepared for younger visitors, but the kid didn’t seem to mind. His huge smile beamed from beneath the oversized headgear.

  A tone sounded through speakers embedded in the helmet’s earpads. “Attention. Debriefing will commence in thirty seconds,” a stylized robotic female voice said.

  I slid the visor back over my eyes, finding myself staring at what I assumed were the blast doors to a hangar bay. Turning my head back toward the boy, I saw that a rendering of a starfighter had replaced the simulator, a generic pilot inside. I returned my attention to my own cockpit, glancing at my virtual hands before wrapping one of them around the virtual stick, identical to the real thing on the other side of the visor.

  A second tone sounded about thirty seconds later. A heads-up display appeared in front of me, projecting a hologram of a woman in a crisp Space Force uniform onto the starfighter’s dashboard.

  “I’m Commander Abigail Cage,” she said. “Welcome to Star Squadron.”

  I heard the boy beside me woop in excitement.

  “If this is your first mission, raise your right hand so I can go over the basics with you,” Commander Cage continued. “If you’re a veteran, tap the thumb trigger on your stick to skip to the next section and standby.”

  I put my right hand up. I’m sure most of the other players did too.

  “So, you want to become a Star Squadron ace,” Cage said. A shiver went down my spine, my mind already convinced the virtual world in front of my eyes was the real thing, that she was a real hologram, and she was looking directly at me. “You should know, it’s a dangerous path you’ve chosen. A path that’s claimed the lives of hundreds of aspiring pilots before you. Are you sure you want to continue?”

  “Yes,” I said softly. I could hear the woman in the simulator behind me say yes too, though less convincingly.

  Commander Cage smiled. “Good. The first thing you need to do is enter your callsign and a passcode. You’ll only have to do this once to have all of your career information saved to central intelligence and available whenever you are part of Star Squadron, become a Mech Jockey, or participate in Jungle Invasion, among other challenges.”

  A holographic keyboard appeared in my lap. I smiled as I reached down to enter a callsign. Online, I always went by Trubblemaker, so I used that here too. As I tapped on the virtual keys, the letters flew out in front of me and dangled in the air ahead of Commander Cage.

  I flinched when I hit the enter key and the system told me Trubblemaker was already taken. Who the hell could have stolen my callsign? I had even spelled trouble wrong to make it less common. I guess it wasn’t as unique as I had thought.

  I stared at the keyboard, trying to think of another callsign. After using that one for the last eight years, I didn’t know what else to call myself.

  “If you can’t decide on a callsign, one will be assigned to you,” Commander Cage said as if the system could read my mind. “You have ten seconds to begin entering a callsign.”

  One I didn’t want, that I would be stuck with for the rest of my VR Awesome! life. I almost laughed out loud. So, a few months? Big deal.

  I let the clock run out.

  “Welcome to Star Squadron, Hondo,” Commander Cage said.

  “Hondo?” I replied out loud. “What kind of stupid callsign is that?” I shook my head. It didn’t really matter. I typed in Password!23 for the password. That didn’t matter either.

  “Next, you’ll select your starfighter. All ships have the same basic capabilities, but as you gain experience you’ll be able to upgrade to less common designs, and better inertial dampeners that will soften the blow from hits. Special unique starfighter NFTs are also available for purchase.”

  “Of course they are,” I muttered as a dozen ship designs appeared in front of my eyes. I didn’t care which one I used, so I touched the one closest to my hand. Teardrop shaped, white with green accents, it had a pair of guns on either side of the fuselage and two huge thrusters in the rear. I hadn’t seen the design in the prior game.

  “Excellent choice,” Cage said. I was certain every choice was an excellent one. “If you need to go over the control layout, raise your right hand. Otherwise, tap the thumb trigger on your stick to skip to the next section and standby.”

  I didn’t think I needed instructions on how to work the controls. I’d played plenty of starfighter games before, though they hadn’t been in such high-quality VR. I tapped the trigger and rested back in the seat as Commander Cage vanished. Still inside the hangar, I noticed the cockpit’s interior had changed to match the skin I’d selected.

  Thirty seconds later, Commander Cage returned. “Attention Star Squadron!” she snapped. “We’ve just jumped into the Aurea System on the far side of the Belt. Sensors have detected Axon clone forces on the other side of the asteroid field. Their Dreadstars are launching fighters, sending them through the field to engage. It’s up to you to enter the asteroid field and destroy the opposition before they can destroy us. I’m activating your comms now. Prepare to launch.”

  A click in my ears signaled the connection to the rest of Green Squadron.

  “This is so cool,” the boy said. “Mom, which ship did you pick?”

  “I don’t know. I think the one in the bottom right corner,” she replied.

  The same design as mine, I realized. What were the odds?

  “I took that one too,” the kid’s father said, leaving me more dismayed. I wondered if there was somewhere I could swap out for a different ride.

  “I took the X-wing,” the boy said. “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

  Except he hadn’t picked Red. Why not?

  I turned my head to see the boy’s ship. His callsign appeared on the side of the fighter, large enough to read from a distance. LukeSkywalker1021. At least it helped me feel better about Hondo.

  Emergency klaxons blared in my ears. Warning lights flashed at the front of the hangar. A holographic countdown hung in the HUD. Five seconds.

  My heart rate increased, excitement building. I could feel myself smiling, and at that moment I forgot all about my cancer. The hangar bay doors slid open, revealing a sea of asteroids ahead.

  The countdown reached zero, the lights on either side of the hangar turning green.

  I grabbed the throttle and pushed it forward, the harness around me tightening to simulate the g-forces as my virtual starfighter rocketed out into virtual space and I clenched my teeth to keep myself from whooping until I realized I had no good reason to keep the emotion in check.

  “Woooooo!” I cried out, joined by the kid beside me a moment later.

  Now, where was Matt?

  Chapter Seven

  The sharpness of the graphics brought the entire experience to life, even with the small bit of normalcy filtering in from under the visor. Within seconds of launching from the hangar bay, my mind had convinced me I was really out in space, the mock g-force and inertia shifting as I used the stick to maneuver the starfighter, getting a feel for its capabilities. Instead of rushing right into the asteroid belt ahead, I practiced adding and cutting the throttle, changing direction, and adjusting to the feel of the simulator when I pushed the physics engine to the edge. The entire experience felt so real.

  It was, as the name of the place conveyed, awesome.

  The other members of Green Squadron didn’t join me in the practice maneuvers. Understandable. We only had fifteen minutes till the match, and they wanted to get into the dogfight and win the mission. Commander Cage hadn’t mentioned what we would earn for coming out on top, but I imagined the system kept track of experience points or something like that.

  The other five starfighters left me behind, making their way into the asteroid belt and vanishing amidst the spinning rocks. The kid seemed the most adept at controlling his ship, his movements more smooth than his parents, easy to spot because their starfighters matched mine. They jerked and overcorrected, sped up and slowed down, and otherwise looked as green as the team they had chosen. It seemed I had been mostly right in my assumption that the more serious players would gravitate toward Red Squadron. Excluding Matt, of course. He didn’t care which side he was on.

  “Hondo, are you going to help us?” the kid asked through the comms a few seconds after disappearing. “Or just fly in circles like a crazy person?”

  “I’m coming, Luke,” I replied, giving the kid a thrill by calling using his callsign. “Right behind you.”

  I changed direction, orienting my virtual ship toward the asteroid belt and hitting the throttle. The bottom right corner of the HUD showed a map of the theater, including red and green triangles to denote the position of all the players. It was probably the most unrealistic part of the cockpit interior, but also necessary. Nobody would have any fun shooting around space for fifteen minutes without finding one another. Well, I probably would.

  Entering the asteroid field, I slipped the starfighter smoothly around the variably sized and shaped rocks, which moved on various trajectories that seemed to create obvious paths to circumvent them. Moving faster than my teammates, I caught up to them within a dozen seconds, pulling in behind the bright blue flare from the ship flown by Luke’s mother. Her callsign, Daisy, floated above her fighter on the HUD. The kid’s father, callsign Bowser, navigated the asteroids a short distance away.

  “It looks like we’re getting close,” one of the high-schoolers said. Callsign PrattLord. I glanced at the map, eyeing the opposition. Two of their fighters had jumped out to a huge lead over the others, and I automatically assumed they belonged to the two girls who had played this game already. Three more of the ships were a little further back, while one remained outside the belt, not moving much at all.

  That had to be Matt, struggling to work the controls.

  “Should we try to work together?” Luke asked.

  “Let’s just try to blast them,” the other high-schooler replied. Callsign Bloodstain. “You guys stay out of my way.”

  I huffed into the comms in response to the statement.

  “You got a problem, Hodor?” Bloostain asked.

  “Not yet,” I answered. “And it’s Hondo. Or do you have trouble with basic reading skills?”

  “What? You son of a—”

  “Young men,” Daisy said. “We’re on the same team. Can we just play without acting like idiots? We’re here to have fun.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” I replied. I couldn’t help it. I hated arrogant assholes. Who didn’t, except for other arrogant assholes?

  “Fine,” Bloodstain said. “But if you’re still on the field when Red is dead, you’re next Hodor.”

  “Bring it on, Poopstain.” It wasn’t the word I wanted to use, but I wouldn’t go that far in front of Luke or his mother.

  “Oh, I will.”

  He and PrattLord were at the head of our group, and they reached the girls in the leading Red starfighters first. I saw the flashes of light behind the asteroids they swung around, and then the two enemy fighters ducking beneath them. They cut to the left as a single unit. The two high-schoolers followed recklessly after them, and my gaze shifted to the map.

  The other three Red starfighters had changed direction, moving to intercept the idiots on their flank. Clearly, the more experienced player had convinced her team to work with her to win. As much as I wanted to see Bloodstain embarrassed by being knocked out first, I also wanted a chance to go after him myself.

  “Bloodstain, PrattLord, watch your flank,” I said. “Three bogeys incoming.”

  “What?” Bloodstain said. “Who do you think—”

  “Jeff, give it up, look,” PrattLord said, using Bloodstain’s real name.

  “Luke, let’s help them out,” I said.

  “I’ll use the Force,” he replied.

  “Bloodstain, PrattLord, pull up on my signal.”

  “I’m not listening to—”

  “Jeff,” PrattLord complained.

  “Fine. Just say when.”

  I hit the throttle, skirting the asteroids with ease and swooping beneath Bloodstain’s plane. Luke followed my lead, sticking close as we moved in to intercept the rest of Red Squadron, who had yet to notice that I had noticed them. The lead Red fighters stayed relatively straight, drawing the two Green fighters into the trap.

  “Here they come,” I said, adding a little more thrust to close the distance. The asteroids whizzed past on either side, my velocity dangerously close to being too high to prevent a collision. Luke couldn’t keep up, taking a hit on the side from one of the asteroids that bounced his fighter off course and marked damage on his ship.