“Give ’em hell, IronBeagle,” she said, just before she ran through the armored doors and they slammed shut behind her.
As soon as I was able to will my legs back into motion, I took off running again. At the end of that same corridor, I reached a pair of doors labeled controller hub 5 and bolted through them. They opened on an enormous barrel-shaped room with hundreds of drone controller stations honeycombed into its curved walls, to which were bolted a network of narrow ladders and access ramps. It looked like a larger version of the drone-control centers in Armada’s cut scenes. My QComm display switched to a three-dimensional diagram of the room, then highlighted my station assignment—DCS537. I scaled the nearest ladder up to level three, then sprinted down the metal access ramp to my station. A scanner beeped as I approached, and the door hissed open. I hurried inside.
As soon as I sat down in the leather chair, the door hissed closed and the control panels around me lit up, along with the wraparound view screen, which currently displayed the Earth Defense Alliance insignia.
I looked around at the familiar array of controls and wrapped my right hand around the flight stick directly in front of me, which appeared identical to the Armada flight-stick controller Ray had given me the previous day. The dual-throttle controller by my left hand also appeared identical to Chaos Terrain’s home version, except that it was bolted to the armrest of my ergonomic pilot seat.
The station was also outfitted with several other controller options, including a pair of Terra Firma battle gauntlets, used for operating an ATHID or Sentinel, along with more mundane options like a keyboard and mouse setup or a standard Xbox, Nintendo, or Playstation controller—enough choices to make almost any gamer feel right at home.
I saw a brief flash of red as my retinas were scanned; then a red X flashed on my display, along with the words DRONE CONTROLLER ACCESS NOT AUTHORIZED.
“Attention, recruit candidate,” the same synthesized female voice said as her words appeared on the display screen in front of me. “Only Earth Defense Alliance personnel are authorized to operate drones or engage in combat. Do you wish to enlist in the Earth Defense Alliance at this time?”
Several paragraphs of dense text began to scroll across the screen, an unreadable blur of legalese outlining all the details of enlistment. It would have taken hours to read it all, and then I still probably wouldn’t have understood a word of it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted. “I have to enlist before I can fight?”
“Only Earth Defense Alliance personnel are authorized to operate drones or engage in combat,” the computer repeated.
“That’s a little manipulative, don’t you think?”
“Please rephrase your question.”
“This is fucking ridiculous!” I cried, punching the console again.
“If you do not wish to enlist in the Earth Defense Alliance at this time, please exit this drone controller station and proceed to the nearest out-processing station.”
When I didn’t respond to this right away, the computer said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your answer. Do you wish to enlist in the Earth Defense Alliance at this time?”
Another tremor rocked the base to its foundations. The lights embedded in the ceiling of my station dimmed for half a second.
“Okay, yes!” I began repeatedly tapping the accept button at the bottom of the screen. “I want to fucking enlist! Sign my ass up!”
“Please raise your right hand and read the enlistment oath aloud.”
A paragraph of text appeared on my display, with my name already inserted at the beginning. I began to read it, and each word dimmed once I’d said it aloud:
I, Zachary Ulysses Lightman, having been appointed an officer in the Earth Defense Alliance, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend my home planet and its citizens against all enemies, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; that I will obey the orders of the officers appointed over me; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter. So help me God.
That last line was marked as “optional,” but I was in a hurry, so I said it anyway, even though I’d always been a devout agnostic. Besides, now I was thinking there just might be a God after all—that would explain who was currently fucking with my whole notion of reality.