Two teams of five starfighters bearing red and green color outlines wove through a debris field that looked like the remnants of a large space battle. Blue and orange bolts of energy lanced between the ships as they tried blowing one another into expanding clouds of shrapnel. Even with all the chaos, I could tell the players knew what they were doing by how they utilized pockets of debris for cover and how they compensated for their quarry's evasive maneuvers.

  "This looks amazing," I said to no one in particular. This was the real deal. I couldn’t wait to play the game. A tall, skinny attendant in a faux flight suit emerged from a storage area to greet us. “Are you here to enlist in the squadron?” he asked. Despite the late hour, he looked almost as excited to be there as I was.

  "Totally,” I replied.

  “Yeah, man,” Tyler agreed.

  He suddenly squinted at us in silence, dread trying to blot out my Star Squadron sun as his mouth opened in what I knew was going to be a stone cold question about our ages.

  “Hey, Mark,” Alyssa said, coming up behind us and forestalling the guy’s inquiry.

  “What’s up, Ally?” he replied.

  “This is Noah and Tyler; they’re friends of mine.”

  “Friends?” he asked, confused by their apparent age difference.

  “They’re older than they look,” she confirmed for us. “And they’re here on my dime.” She also confirmed she had paid for our bracelets, rather than using an employee benefit. I hoped she at least gotten a discount. “I’m going to jump on this one with them.”

  “You know Shandra doesn’t like it when we steal free plays.”

  “Shandra went home an hour ago.”

  Mark’s eyes brightened. “She did?”

  Alyssa nodded.

  Mark grinned. “In that case, let's get you dudes suited up and on the roster for the next dogfight!"

  “Alright!” I agreed, scrubbing my palms together. My grin felt like it stretched a mile wide.

  He pulled out a plastic pistol that doubled as an RF scanner and ran it over our bracelets before leading us toward racks lined with flight suits.

  “Looks like Red needs three more players, and Green only one,” Mark said.

  Alyssa immediately reached for the green flight suit.

  “Traitor,” Tyler said.

  “I’m not going to miss a chance to shoot you down while the wounds are still fresh,” she replied.

  “Good job, Tee,” I said, knowing All-red would be a major problem out on the field. She and Lebowski were our strongest all-around players.

  “Bad planning on my part,” Tyler agreed. “I never saw myself in this situation.”

  We each picked a red flight suit from the rack. They were all the same size, and mine ended up stretched in the vertical and loose across the chest. Tyler’s fit pretty well, while Alyssa’s was baggy everywhere. I didn’t say it out loud, but she looked like a turtle in the green suit.

  A blaring of trumpets drew my attention to one of the screens. The current match had just ended, with Green triumphant. Two of their fighters remained, and they did barrel rolls as the players climbed out of their pods and headed for the racks, chatting excitedly. Only a few started removing their flight suits, meaning most of the same players would participate in the next match. That didn’t bode well for my chances. They were all so good.

  And they all knew Alyssa, greeting her as they gathered in the prep area. The immediate acceptance when she introduced us held my general social anxiety to a minimum. Besides, what was this compared to what I had already been through today? I forced my mind away from that avenue of thought. I had come to escape it for a few hours, not fall apart in front of a crowd.

  “Looks like we’re one short,” a heavier college kid who had introduced himself as Jedi said. “You playing, Mark?”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” he replied.

  “Like that’s such a hardship,” another player joked.

  “Am I too late for the next game?”

  All our heads swiveled toward the latecomer. Around the same age as the others, he was in good shape, with a kind face framed by a mop of dark hair.

  “No, you’re just in time,” Mark said, barely managing to veil his disappointment as he reached for his scanner, running it across the new guy’s bracelet.

  “I’m Hondo,” he said, eyes sweeping across the rest of us. He caught my gaze, holding it for a couple of seconds before pointing to the flight suits. “Looks like Red is short one, right?”

  “That’s right,” Alyssa agreed.

  Hondo made a face, turning to Mark. “Sorry. I guess I stole your thunder.”

  “It’s no problem,” Mark replied. “I’ll have other chances.”

  We grabbed helmets from a separate rack, and split into two teams. I joined the rest of the Red squad pilots waiting on the marked side of the staging area.

  "New meat better not drag us down," grumbled the oldest and least friendly of the group, call-sign Psych0K1ll3r. He was the only one in the ten-person scrum older than twenty-five. “What do you guys think of a little added incentive? Twenty bucks says I smoke more Greens than any of you. And survive to the end of the match.”

  "In your dreams, old-timer," laughed one of the others, who had identified himself as ShottaLotta. "But feel free to toss your money this way when you crash and burn."

  “I’m in,” Hondo added, grinning.

  “Sorry, I can’t afford the gas to get home if I lose,” Tyler said, bowing out. “And my man Katzuo here is broke.”

  “What kind of gamer tag is Katzuo?” Jedi asked.

  “Katze is German for cat,” I replied. “My father is…was German.” I paused, fighting to keep myself composed. “Katsuo is a type of sushi, skipjack tuna. My mother was Japanese. It’s a play on that.”

  “So, Catfish?” Jedi said.

  “No, Katzuo,” I corrected. “If I wanted to be Catfish, I would have chosen Catfish. Or probably Catfish920 or something lame like that.” I turned to Tyler. “And I’m not broke.”

  “How much do you have in your wallet?” he asked.

  I reached to my back pocket, only then realizing I had skipped out of the hospital without it. “Okay, I’m broke,” I admitted while the others chuckled.

  “First time?” Hondo asked.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I’ve flown these things before.”

  There was something about the way he said it that gave me pause. The slight upturn of his lip? A twinkle in his eye? Either way, I was still trying to come up with something more to say when a buzzer sounded and the others started for their pods.

  “Good luck,” Hondo said with a friendly pat on my back before heading for his pod.

  “This is way better than hanging out alone in a dreary hospital room, isn’t it?” Tyler asked. He appeared beside me, face split by a beaming grin.

  “Definitely,” I replied. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “I thought this didn’t qualify as a rescue mission.”

  “I changed my mind. It totally is.”

  He laughed, splitting away from me as we reached the last two open pods. I was a little bummed I didn’t get Red-5. Of course, Psych0K1ll3r had. I hated him already.

  Climbing into the pod, I settled into the padded seat, positioned behind a short steering column with a joystick, a throttle, and a pair of foot pedals. About the size of a small go-kart, the entire pod rested on a set of robotic arms that could raise and lower the platform from each corner. It allowed for up to twenty degrees of pitch and yaw to mimic the sensation of flight.

  From what I had read online, the seats also contained a number of haptic sensors to give the player a nice jolt whenever they took a hit. I’d also read that the first version of the system had channeled all the visuals through the visor of the flight helmet. Equipped with the second generation pods, I was delighted when the faux cockpit closed around me and an organic 4k light-emitting diode, or OLED, instantly placed my pod in a star field my brain fell for in point-two seconds.

  I was doubly delighted when a hologram joined the display, for the moment only showing the VR Awesome logo. Further examination of the controls revealed a button on the right marked HELP. I assumed it would alert Mark if the player needed anything and probably open the pod, quickly returning the person to reality in case he or she suffered from claustrophobia or airsickness once things really started rocking and rolling.

  Not me, of course. All tragedy, sadness, and trauma aside, I really believed I had found myself right where I was supposed to be at this very moment.

  Thanks to Tyler.

  A soft tone sounded through speakers embedded in the back of the headrest. “Attention. Briefing will commence in thirty seconds,” a woman said in a commanding voice.

  A second tone sounded about thirty seconds later. The display on the monitor turned to a hangar bay, the outer doors sealed ahead of me and the rest of Red Team deployed as generic pilots in generic star fighters on either side. In the air, just below my eye level, a hologram of a woman wearing a crisp Space Force uniform appeared between me and the surround.. “I’m Commander Abigail Cage,” she said. “Welcome to Star Squadron.”

  I nearly cried out in excitement, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest. I’d already had the same sensation today on the total opposite end of the spectrum. Swapping pain for pleasure, I could sense myself grinning like an idiot as Commander Cage continued. “If this is your first mission, raise your right hand so I can go over the basics with you. If you’re a veteran, tap the thumb trigger on your stick to skip to the next section and standby.”

  I raised my right hand. Cameras hidden somewhere in the pod caught the motion.

  “So, you want to become a Star Squadron ace,” Cage said. My disbelief ended right there. As far as I was concerned, I was in a starfighter, in space, and Commander Cage was a real person talking to me from the CIC of the starship to which we were assigned. “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?”

  “Hell, yeah,” I said with absolute conviction. There was only one thing I wanted more right now, and I had to force it back out of my thoughts so I could enjoy the moment.

  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.”

  The projection added a floating keyboard, which amazed me by accurately capturing my airborne keypresses. I entered Katzuo and my usual password, eager to get to the next screen.

  “Welcome to Star Squadron, Katzuo,” Commander Cage said. “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 skins, and other improvements like better inertial dampeners that will soften the blow from hits. Bundles of credits and unique starfighter non-fungible tokens, or NFTs, are also available for purchase to enhance your gameplay experience.”

  A carousel of starship skins appeared on the monitor. I used my hand to air-swipe left until they’d gone full circle. All the usuals were there. X-wing, Y-wing, Viper, Gunstar, Kilrathi Gothri, Warp Fighter, and one I think was from Buck Rogers whose name I didn’t know. Among others. The X-wing tempted me, but I decided it was too mainstream and went with the Gunstar instead.

  “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 was sure I didn’t need additional instruction, so 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. Looking around, I saw that the other Red Team fighters had changed as well. Two X-wings and a Y-wing, not much of a surprise there. I was sure Tyler had chosen the Y, trying to be different without breaking pop culture. The last ship caused me to do a double take before leaving me staring.

  Larger than the other ships, it appeared to be a robot head, with a corrugated metal grin, a set of spotlights for eyes, and four pairs of rotating turrets. One was mounted on each cheek and behind each armored ear. I definitely hadn’t seen it in the standard selection, so I assumed it was one of the unique NFTs. It reminded me of the TARDIS in the way its ridiculousness emitted an aura of comfortable cool.

  I was still staring when Commander Cage’s voice startled me from my daze. “Attention Star Squadron! We’ve just jumped into the Aurea System. It’s a trap! You must overcome the enemy starfighters or the fleet will surely be destroyed. I’m activating your comms now. Prepare to launch.”

  The dialog bordered on cringeworthy, but the end result was all that mattered. A click in my ears signaled the connection to the rest of Red Team. Before anyone could speak, emergency klaxons blared in my ears. Warning lights flashed at the front of the hangar. The lights on either side of the outer bay doors turned green, and once they opened, I punched the throttle. The pod tilted back and the harness around me tightened to simulate the G-force as my virtual starfighter launched into virtual space.

  All of my external cares were temporarily forgotten.

  CHAPTER 6

  Two massive dreadnoughts exchanged broadsides with a planet-sized battle station, their flashes of energy weapons and missile trails crisscrossing the blackness filling the surround in front of me. Both the battle station and the hulking capital ships spewed out fighter squadrons in a heroic last stand for superiority.

  Allyssa immediately broke off, joining the greens in their attack against the battle station. Psych0K1ll3r’s voice broke over the comms. "Reds break and attack those greens with everything you have!" Neither side interfered with us as we selected targets and dove onto attack vectors in defense of the battle station..

  I nudged the stick gently to starboard, sending my fighter banking away from the others. A glance at the hologram showed it had switched to a three-dimensional display of the battlefield, with both teams’ starfighters outlined in their respective colors, along with the NPC warships that surrounded us. Two Greens shot right at us, attempting a pincer maneuver, while the remaining trio split wide to circle behind our squadron.

  The lead Greens opened fire, green lasers bracketing me. I twisted the ship through jinking turns and flew straight into a heavy beam from one of the dreadnoughts, barely avoiding the embarrassment of getting knocked out in the first ten seconds of our entrance into the fight. I turned hard left, trying to get out of the line of fire, and the two Greens gave chase. I wondered if Alyssa was in one of them, hoping to score two quick kills against her Stinking Badgers teammates for Tyler’s invasion of her privacy. Considering her compassionate response to my reason for even being here, I doubted she would be so cold, at least toward me.

  "You can't shake 'em, Cat," Hondo warned as green lasers flashed all around me, using up most of my nine lives in a hurry. "Lead them back this way."

  I risked a quick glance rearward and spotted both Greens still glued to my tail. The better pilot hung further back while his wingmate made constant targeting runs, hoping to catch me off-guard. A floating hull segment spinning languidly ahead, offered a perfect point to change course. I rolled over and pulled my nose hard up, using the debris for a slingshot turn back toward my own support ships.

  Sure enough, the overeager bogey kept coming through the turn, unable to adjust before the robot head swept in for the kill.“Your cash is so mine!” Psych0K1ll3r cried, denying the robot head ship first blood as his X-wing cut in front of Hondo, his missile vaporizing the enemy fighter on my tail.

  I had initially thought Psych0K1ll3r had to be flying the robot head, but now I knew better. The head had to be Hondo. The other players didn’t look like they could afford a ride so unique.

  As for Psych0K1ll3r, he was just an asshole vulture.

  My marginal gratitude lasted only seconds before another Green pilot cut in to take the place of the destroyed green fighter. I didn’t know why they had chosen to gang up on me. Maybe it was as simple as my Gunstar selection. Had picking something not from Star Wars made me more of a target? If so, then why weren’t they going right for the robot head?

  It was a rhetorical question. If Hondo had invested the cash for a unique skin, he had no doubt played the game a lot more often than anyone else here tonight. That didn’t guarantee he was better than the rest of us, but what he lacked in skill he could probably make up for with dollar bills. Better to take out the obvious newbie first and then deal with the vet. The Stinking Badgers had employed that strategy plenty of times before.

  Every trick I knew failed, shaking my determined foe. He matched me move for move, firing only occasional shots to remind me of his presence without overtaxing his weapons. I couldn't sustain breakneck aggression forever, but no amount of juking won me escape. Exasperation turned to alarm the longer we continued our deadly dance.

  "Tag 'em and bag 'em!" Psych0K1ll3r crowed across the channel. “That’s two for me. One more and I’ll go home forty bucks richer.”

  “Red Three,” Hondo said. “Swing around that dreadnought and pull a hard upward vector. Cat, break right, dip low, and go under. We’ll swat that pesky fly off your tail.”

  That he had noticed my predicament impressed me. And his calm confidence nearly had me affirming command without hesitation. I knew it was a team game, but at the same time, I hadn’t come here to be rescued. Once in a night was enough.

  “Negative, Red Five,” I replied. “I’ve got this one.”