“No rule says they must wait for the dungeon to start. The fewer participants on the surface when it starts, the higher their odds of winning!” she shouted.
“Captain, I am pulling the Pup back to a safe distance to avoid further damage. Everyone brace for landing,” Elvis said.
“Do it! Just be sure we have plenty of distance between them and us!” I shouted.
The Pup banked sharply, the G-force churning my insides as the engine spun up and the booster shot us away from the Lacertine encampment. Within five minutes, we had traveled several miles and were ready to land. The surface of the Moon was barren. There were no naturally defensible positions outside of craters and large hills. Elvis picked an open valley and landed the Pup. It wasn’t the smoothest landing he had made as we braced and felt the sudden impact of the Pup touching down.
“Captain, the Pup has taken a marginal amount of damage, mostly to the bottom side of the Hull. Repairs are estimated at 22 hours. During that time, the Pup will be grounded. A-gangers are deployed and beginning repairs now. Environmental readings show clean, breathable air with no physiological risk to humans; opening the rear bay door now.” Elvis said. I shakily unlatched my safety harness, walked down the rear ramp of the Pup, and looked around. This moon, like the grind station, had an atmosphere. It made sense. Why would the Coeus go through all the trouble of creating a death dungeon and have everyone suffocate immediately? I learned from Tiff that most biological species in the universe came from planets with an atmosphere similar to Earth’s. Of course, there were outliers, but those species rarely invested heavily in expansion or only wanted planets deemed less desirable by other species.
I always thought aliens would be different. They would breathe through some device, have no arms and legs, and float around like interdimensional wraiths. The truth was surprising: Other than some basic physical differences, our bodies worked in very similar ways. We all had to breathe; we all had to eat. I wondered what the home planets of the other factions looked like. So far in this journey after the tutorial, I had only seen a big grey rock and a big red desert moon. I’m sure that the Coeus could create a dungeon anywhere, but for these first few levels, it seemed they were taking a minimalist approach and would get straight to the point. Go here, kill everyone, survive, or die.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get started!” I said as everyone piled out of the Pup.
Elvis had already started unloading the Rover, which had a large telescoping arm extending up from the top of the Pup. Once the Rover was unloaded, the arm disappeared into a compartment and pulled out something I had seen before, but not this size and not this advanced.
“Hey, is that a 3-D printer?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
Tiff stood beside me as everything was unloaded. “Yes, sort of. It’s more advanced than the ones you had on Earth. Do you see that tube running back to the top of the Pup? There is a polycarbonate mixture held in tanks inside the pup’s hull. Elvis will use that to build the structure. It should only take an hour or so.”
“Cool! I knew Elvis said he would have it done, but that is fast. We could have made a ton of money if we had something like that on the jobs I worked before the drop.”
Tiff looked at me, holding her hands behind her back. “I don’t mean to interrupt your obvious admiration of some of the most basic technology we have at our disposal,” she said with a smirk, “but we will need to reinforce our position and plan a watch and reconnaissance schedule. We need all the time we can get, Captain.”
As Elvis continued with the construction of our base, the rest of the crew got to work unpacking supplies. There were crates full of food, water, ammo, and weapons; everything that we thought we might need to survive and fight. Once the dungeon was initiated, we weren’t sure if the Pup could come back and resupply us, so we had to have enough to survive for the foreseeable future without a guaranteed resupply. Elvis prepared ration packs for us. They were very similar to MREs, so they wouldn’t be the tastiest things we ever ate, but they would provide us the nutrition we needed to sustain us over the next 7-10 days. Water was a different story. Everyone had a portable atmospheric water generator. It was a small flat box with a cylindrical tank attached. The machine would draw in air, cool it to below its dew point, and convert that to drinkable water. We had similar machines on Earth before the drop, but they were clunky and not reliable. The ones Elvis made us were ridiculously efficient, which was great because getting water here would be a problem.
By the time we had unpacked everything from the Pup, Elvis had almost completed our Hab structure. It was a long grey rectangle with a rounded roof, approximately 40 feet long and 20 feet wide. It wasn’t a work of architectural genius, but it would serve its purpose. There was a door on each end, and as far as entrances, that was it. The team would set up our cots inside and put our tables and gear in there as well. It was simple, functional, and all we needed to get the job done, hopefully.
The Rover, or “Rover,” as everyone had started affectionately calling it, was ready. Elvis had retrofitted a turret gun to the top so we would have some firepower. Rover could hold all 8 of us, not comfortably, mind you, but it could handle it. The vehicle was about the size of a Chevy Suburban. It had big, meaty all-terrain tires, 4-wheel drive capability, and was fully electric. The cab was fully enclosed with seating for six plus gear, and the turret station on top could hold two passengers. Needless to say, I felt good about our wheels.
“Let’s take 15 and grab something to eat, then we can get settled inside,” I said to the team as I walked over to open one of the MRE crates. I waited for everyone else to walk over and gave them each one of the MRE boxes. The boxes were shrink-wrapped in a grey foil and unmarked. I hadn’t given Elvis any insight into making them; CJ handled all of that while I was recovering from my injuries. As I opened my MRE, I found myself wishing I had been a little more involved. The field ration had the necessities, but as awesome as Elvis was, he still didn’t understand the human tongue. “Well, this should be interesting,” I said, frowning at Elvis’s approximation of food.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Elvis had done his best to represent the major food groups. There was protein in the form of a meat paste in my MRE, while some of the others contained a sort of meat patty similar to Spam. There were carbohydrates in the form of a dense cube of bread, similar to cornbread but super dense and dry. Some sort of apple sauce-type substance and what looked like a potato cube. The food was either super bland or, in the case of the meat option, terribly salty. The one saving grace was a cookie; after all, we needed some sugar, right? Each MRE had a different kind of cookie, and they were actually delicious. I poked at the MRE as I sat on a box that had been pulled out of the Pup, “Elvis, we are going to need to discuss these MREs when this is over.” I said, inspecting a Spork full of the applesauce with visible disgust.
“Elvis is warrior, not chef! Have SR-CJ handle it if you are not happy with it!” Elvis said, obviously a little perturbed at my apparent dislike of the MRE.
“Sorry, Elvis. I didn’t mean to shit on your work; these will work. Thanks for the effort,” I said as the glob of apple sauce plopped back into the small tray. Everyone else had similar reactions, but this would have to sustain us for the next several days, so we all ate and got back to work without another complaint. It seemed Elvis was getting a bit touchy lately, and we didn’t want to exacerbate his bad mood.
Once the Hab structure was complete, we moved all the equipment inside. We set up the main workstation; then I gathered the group to discuss the next steps. “Jax, Matty, I need you two to set up the external cameras and motion sensors. Based on what happened during our flight in we can’t take any chances on another faction deciding to thin the herd before the initiation of the Dungeon. We have a few days, and I would like to do some recon as well, but we can discuss that after we have set our defenses.” Jax clapped Matty on the shoulder as they both stood up. “Got it, Cap. We can get that knocked out in a few hours.”
I looked at Claire and Loren, who had stuck pretty close together since coming to the Bloodhound. “Can you two set up the workstation and coordinate a watch schedule? I’d Like to do 6-hour shifts with four groups. We can do you two,” I pointed at Loren and Claire, “Jax and Matty, Red and CJ, and finally, me and Tiff. We can start once we are done with the setup. All good?”
“No problem, Captain,” Loren said with a nod. “The workstation won’t be complete and online until Jax and Matty finish. We will get the shift schedule complete by then,” Claire said.
“Claire, you were an accountant pre-drop, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, I worked at a firm for about 5 years.”
“Okay, once this is done, we need to discuss your role on the Bloodhound. You’re good with numbers, so I would like you to handle logistics onboard and preparation for missions. It won’t hurt to take some of the load off Elvis, and a human touch will go a long way,” I said, mentally preparing for Elvis’s retort. None came, so we continued on with the planning session. Surprised, she looked up at me, “Sure, that would be great, Captain. I was hoping we would start putting some structure into all of this.”
“I’m kind of learning on the fly here, but we have to start acting like a real crew if we are going to be successful. Elvis does a lot for us, but his attention is needed elsewhere. Right, Elvis?” I asked. Elvis wasn’t on the surface with us. We had all been fitted with an internal comms unit. It was the size of a small bead, and when inserted in our ear, it took hold and provided a secure comms channel for the entire team, including Elvis. When we used the open channel, we could talk to each other just like we were standing in a room together.
“Elvis is running at max capacity right now, Captain. Any assistance will allow Elvis to focus on ship upgrades and expansion,” he said.
“Upgrades and expansion?” I asked curiously.
“Yes, since everyone except SR-CJ will be off the ship for several days, Elvis will be utilizing the parts from the absorbed ship to upgrade the Bloodhound. SR-CJ will be sequestered to the bridge during that time. Worst case scenario, we have a small hull breach, and he dies. The risk is outweighed by the reward, Captain.”
“Wh-What the fuck?!” CJ chimed in, “Did that douchebag AI just say I could die?!”
“Elvis, please ensure that SR-CJ is unharmed. His ability to continue breathing is imperative to our success down here,” I said, not willing to bite on Elvis’s obvious attempt to rile CJ up.
“Andy, I swear you better not let that psycho kill me!” CJ shouted.
“But killing is what I do best, SR-Cock Jockey…” Elvis growled.
“SEE! I knew you put that on my uniform on purpose! Andy, did you hear th-”
“Enough, you two, stay focused! Elvis, take all the necessary precautions and stop trying to piss off CJ!” I said.
“Understood, Captain,” Elvis replied.
The preparations were just about complete. Our Forward operating base, or FOB, was looking good. We all felt like we were as prepared as we could be with the information we had at hand. Now, all that was left was to do was recon the area over the next few days. We would try to get an idea of where each faction was camped and what their general defensive and offensive capabilities were. We also needed to get an idea of their levels to know if the odds were stacked against us. That was the plan before an announcement populated everyone’s interfaces:
Attention Participants,
All participating factions have arrived at this level; therefore, the initiation for the level one dungeon will begin in 4 hours. Please ready your factions and prepare for battle. The following rules will apply in this dungeon:
- No orbital support allowed.
- Interface mini-maps will unlock with progress or by finding maps.
- Elimination of an entire faction will net your faction 1 full level on top of experience gained.
- Faction keys must be looted to progress.
- The Coeus relay station at the center of the battleground can only be accessed once all five keys are inserted.
- The first team to activate the relay station will progress to level 2.
Additional Information and FAQs:
- As a reminder, the Lacertine faction will not operate as four separate teams. This team has been consolidated into one large faction to ensure they do not unfairly have access to multiple keys.
- There are loot boxes and power-ups hidden throughout the level. These items are consumable and cannot be taken from the level. Once used, they will cease to exist.
Good luck, participants, and may the best faction proceed.
That was it. We had 4 hours until all hell would break loose. We had 4 hours to prepare for hell.