Chapter Eighteen

The Canteen looked like an assembly room for cultists.

Cavernous and bright, Roman columns supported the chamber, capped by navy blue banners depicting a heraldic silver wolf with a crown and holding a sceptre.

The hall itself could have passed for a Cathedral, were it not for the immense screen filling up the far end.

Among the walls were tall statues of armoured warriors set into shallow niches. In front of the screen stood an ornate pulpit carved from black walnut.

Mego carried her lunch tray across the aisle, avoiding all the filthy looks cast in her direction. It didn’t take a leap of imagination to work out how the daughter of Medacium's creator got a seat in the top ten. Finding a quiet spot in the lunch area, she found it hard to ignore the sea of pop culture references that dominated the conversations.

That's going to get old real quick.

*Already has.*

Mego looked up. Was someone talking? No, it had to be someone she overheard. She could have sworn the voice was inside her head.

Weird.

Still buzzing from the experience, Mego slowly ate the Fish and Chips, like a mule minding its own in the corner of a pasture. She closed her eyes again and catalogued every possible reason. Was she mad? Sane people typically do not hear voices in their heads. Was this a trick? But how? Then she remembered.

It must have been the same voice from the cinema.

*What’s a cinema?*

Mego snapped her gaze toward the rest of the diners.

Nothing.

Shaking it off, Mego was about to give up when she caught the eye of Tomoko Matsumara. They exchanged brief looks until the other girl quickly turned away. Mego dismissed it as a coincidence.

No. She probably thought I was checking her out.

*Get over yourself, you're not my type. Oh shit!*

She looked over to the girl again, now shielding her face with both hands.

How are you doing this? Mego thought and tapped her head. Hello? Is this thing on?

Radio silence.

Pondering what to do next, she smiled to herself.

Thinking back to her vast collection of Death Metal, she focused on the goriest album cover she could remember. Looking up, she watched as Matsumara cupped her mouth like she was going to be sick.

Bingo.

Mego finished her meal and tailed the girl to the ladies’ bathroom, finding her bent over a sink.

"Bad thoughts?" Mego said, offering a paper towel. Tomoko snatched it in anger.

"You owe me a lunch," Tomoko said. "Also, what the hell is your problem? You're sick, dude."

"What are you pissed off about? I'm the one who was violated."

"I would never..." The girl said, but quickly stared out in realisation. "Yeah, sorry. I got carried away.”

Mego gave her a stone-cold look of the dead.

"I don't like people inside my head."

"I can see why. Take up Jazz or something, yeah?"

"Am I not entitled to my thoughts?"

"No, I didn't mean...yes, of course you are. I just..."

"Put it this way." Mego said. "Next time you break into someone's house, don't complain about their record collection."

Tomoko suddenly looked away, visibly rattled.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to pry, but sometimes I can't help it. I know how it looks, and I'm not a spy! Honest!." She then lowered her voice. "Probably shouldn't have said honest, that's always a giveaway. NOT that I have anything to give away."

Mego found the young woman's babbling somewhat endearing.

"Jeez, shut up already.” She said, smiling. “No one would pick you as a Spy, you're so obvious.”

"That was uncalled for, although kinda true. I ramble when I'm backed into a corner. Most people expect me to be theme-park Japanese, y'know? Bow and say 'you honour me' with every sentence." Tomoko shook her head with contempt. "Such lazy stereotyping."

"Trust me, you're not getting the worst of it."

"Oh man, tell me about it," Tomoko said. "The moment you entered the canteen, it was knives out."

"You read their minds?"

"Their faces, more like. They weren't exactly shy about letting it be known.”

"Good to know." Mego said. "So if you're a real psychic, what am I thinking now?"

Tomoko closed her eyes and concentrated. "Can a ghost fight a zombie if they are the same person?" She shot Mego a puzzled look. "Ghosts are vapour, dude. C'mon."

"Damnit! You're good."

"Like I said, it's my curse."

"Wait," Mego said. "What do you mean you can't help it? It's your mind, switch it off. I do it all the time."

"Believe me, it's not easy."

"How do you even learn that stuff?"

"It's not something you pick up," Tomoko said. She moved a strand of hair back, her gaze fixed intently in the mirror. "Where I'm from, it's like a defect."

"Japan?"

"Not your Japan."

"I didn't know I owned it?" Mego said.

"No look, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry again."

"Are you sorry for what you did or because you got caught?"

"Kinda both, I guess," Tomoko said. "Which is weird, because that never happens. I can read minds, but it's always one-way traffic. You're the first actually to talk back." She shook her head. "Which doesn't make it right." She stood up straight. "Let's start over. I am Tomoko Matsumara."

"Well, you already know my name."

"I usually let the other person offer up information themselves. There's less chance of being detected."

"I meant I'm in the top ten as well."

The girl giggled. "Of course! I forgot."

"So what made you want to join up?" Mego asked.

Tomoko balled up a paper towel and threw it in the trash.

"Got nowhere to go, I guess." She said. "I don't know if that puts us in direct competition. I hope not, you seem cool."

"You got all that within five minutes?"

The woman tapped her head. "I have a good feeling about people."

"Yeah well, just keep those feelings to yourself from now on."

Tomoko nodded respectfully and left the bathroom.

"Laters."

Mego watched her leave and, for the second time in so many months, found herself alone in a bathroom, wondering if life would ever be normal again.

***

Returning to the Canteen, she decided to hit the health-conscious vending machine for some snacks. Surveying the lunchroom area, she was startled by a familiar voice.

"You know, we barely made it out alive," Shin said.

Mego lowered her head.

“I knew that would bite me in the ass." She said, before remembering her place. "Sir!"

"Don't call me 'Sir', I work for a living. Seriously, what are you doing here, Cadet?"

"Something about defending the Earth from annihilation, I kinda tuned out."

They shared a polite smile. Had it only been forty-eight hours since they were a couple? It felt like so much time had passed.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Right now, bigger things are at stake." Mego said. "Like, where am I going to sit?"

"That I can help you with," Shin said. He pointed out various groups of people. "New meat sits in the corner with the bad lighting."

"What about over there?"

"No, that’s the Wrenchers' place; they deal with maintenance."

"Okay."

"Then, to the left, you have the Shipwrights.”

"Uh-huh."

"Then the Flamers, they deal with refrigeration...."

"Wait, what?"

"The Frosters, they keep the fires going."

"Shouldn't that be the other way round?"

"The Clangers, the Bangers, Mood-faces, Chip-monkers, Not to mention Party-clowns (not real clowns), Faders, Gladers, Down-worlders, Up-worlders, Seekers..."

"Nice!” Mego said, with barely contained frustration. "Am I supposed to remember every one of these tribes and cliques? All this jargonese?"

"Pretty much."

"Will they come up later at some point?"

"Not really, they just blend into the background and become irrelevant."

"Great." Mego said.

“Noob gamers sit over there,” Shin said, pointing to a table of nervous-looking rookies.

“Thanks.”

An awkward pause sat between them.

"It was good seeing you again, Cadet."

"You too, sir.” A beat. “For the record, there's nothing to forgive. I understand what you had to do. Even though it burns, I get it now."

Mego gave Shin one last, reassuring smile and took herself off to the table. An air of melancholy lingered, bringing a pervading sense of loss. Mego couldn't help but feel like something had broken between them; a special gift lost for all time.

***

After finding a place near the back, Mego closed her eyes to the world. Upon opening, she was surprised to see Tomoko sitting opposite and enjoying a Jacket Potato.

"What?" The girl said. "It was a free seat. Besides, you still owe me for lunch."

"Also, you brought that mental shit on yourself."

"Okay, I may have overstepped a few boundaries,” Tomoko said. “And I will try to behave from now on." She leaned forward. "Speaking of which, you do not want to know what people think about you."

"I've got a fair idea," Mego said, shovelling a handful of raisins. "It's like a deliberate plot to keep isolated."

"Why?"

"You tell me," Mego said. "You're the mind-reader."

"Shhh," Tomoko said, lowering her voice. "No one needs to know that, besides..."

Her sentence cut short, she was distracted by a commotion at the opposite table.

A Scottish woman with a shiny, metal arm was berating an overweight contestant wearing a retro Gamer Tee.

"For the las' time, I'm not interested." The girl said. "You think cos I ‘ave Chewee flask, you spout movie quotes and I'll jump into yer pants? That's no how it works, mate. Here in the real world, ya make an effort. So take that goofy grin off yer face, piss off and learn the art of conversation." The young man stood like a deer in the headlights, unsure how to react. The woman pointed to the exits. “Git tae fuck!"

The large man took his square pizza and waddled away.

"Ouch," Tomoko said, facing forward. "That guy's gonna avoid women like forever."

"Or develop an interest in Duct Tape and shovels."

"So dark. Look at you being so optimistic."

Mego felt like responding, until something caught her eye.

A heavy tapping silenced the murmur of conversation until there was no sound but for the staccato sound of hard shoes on wood.

Dana Dearborn, the grim-looking Squadron Leader, made his way with a retinue of younger officers, passing people who shuffled to their feet.

Standing at the pulpit, Dearborn raised his hand for quiet.

"At ease, everyone.” He said. "Half an hour ago, we received word that a large group of something-as yet undetermined-had crossed the moon of Enceladus. There is very little information, so this will be a short briefing."

The plasma screen lit up, displaying a monochrome picture of a black mass. "In the past two days, our probes outside Jupiter's Trojan cluster detected movement from Saturn." A second picture, slightly higher resolution, zoomed in on the cloud-like object. "From what we can ascertain, the anomaly seems to be changing shape, which rules out the possibility of a single vessel.

Calculating the length, this thing appears to be half the size of the Earth. We surmise its form is legion and have already given it a name: 'The Dark Armada'."

A murmur of apprehension rippled out from the diners. Dearborn raised his hand again for quiet. "So you see now, why must we be ready to push back against all invaders. And the shock you are feeling now will roll off your backs when the time comes. In short, we, as a species, have four years to be battle-ready. Even with first-strike capabilities, it won't be enough, so we’ve enlisted you gamers. I won't cover old ground, but I will reiterate that the reason you were chosen doesn't make you special-not yet, anyway. That part you have to earn in battle. Time to prove your worth." He shuffled the files back into a folder. "I don't have to tell you discretion is necessary when communicating with loved ones. We don't want to cause a mass panic or suicides, so this information is classified until it can no longer be contained. Good luck and welcome to the war. Carry on."

Dearborn made an immediate beeline for the exit, closely followed by his entourage of officers. Everyone except Mego returned to their seat, finally done with all the side eyes and dirty looks.

After leaving the Canteen, a Crewman approached her in a powder blue flight suit.

"Cadet Kinugawa.” He said. "These are for you.”

He handed her a couple of duffel bags, with a yellow scrap of paper that read:

Report to Dr Poop-in-well. V & S department.

"V and S?" Mego asked. "Where's that?"

The Crewman looked up. "Virtual Reality department, just follow the signs."

Mego followed his gaze and held her breath.

The upper walkways and bridges reminded her of a cat's cradle, tied together with a lattice of concrete, reinforced polymer and glass.

Her mouth went dry.

And away we go