“They’ll understand,” I said, with as much assurance as I could. “Your sons are gamers, too, right?”
She nodded. “They all play Terra Firma together every night, while their mom is playing Armada,” she said. “We all have our computers set up next to each other in the living room.”
“Then your boys will be fighting right alongside us,” I said, smiling at her. “Right?”
Debbie nodded, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
“Right,” she said. “That’s right, I forgot.”
“Fucking-A!” Milo shouted. “We’re gonna have AtomicMom’s boys whipping ass for our team, too?” He smiled at Debbie. “Those alien dipshits won’t stand a chance.”
To my surprise, Debbie returned his smile, and I found myself reconsidering my first impression of Milo. His Rocky Balboa-esque method of speaking somehow made his cocky enthusiasm seem endearing.
Chén—who had just now caught up with the conversation via his translator—nodded vigorously in agreement with Milo, then spoke into his translator.
“I know my friends and family back home will be helping us fight, too,” the software said for him. “And that is very comforting to me.”
“Thank you, Chén,” Debbie said. “You too, Milo. You’re right, that is comforting.” She twisted her hands into knots in her lap. “But I’m still frightened for my family—and for all us.” She shook her head. “I never believed something like this could really happen. It’s a nightmare.”
“I don’t know,” Milo said, leaning back. “It seems more like a dream come true to me.”
Debbie stared at him. “Are you insane?” she asked. “How could you possibly think that?”
Milo shrugged. “Yesterday I was living in a shitty basement apartment and working a soul-crushingly boring cubicle job.” He motioned to the surreal view out the shuttle window. “Look at me now! I’m an officer in the Earth Defense Alliance, and I’m on my way to the fucking moon to help save Earth from an alien invasion!” He turned back to Debbie. “Now please explain to me how this isn’t the greatest day ever? Like, in history?”
“Because we’re all about to get killed, moron!” she shouted back, with a tremor of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Were you even paying attention during the admiral’s briefing? Did you see the size of their armada? We’re going to be ridiculously outnumbered!”
Milo seemed genuinely surprised. “I may have missed that part of the briefing,” he said. Then, under her withering glare, he added, “I have ADD! My mind wanders during long meetings!” For the first time, I detected genuine fear in his voice. “Are the odds really that bad? The admiral never said—”
“What?” Debbie asked, interrupting him. “That we’re probably doomed? Why would he say that out loud?” She turned to look out the window. “He doesn’t need to. It’s obvious. I mean, how desperate must the odds be if we’re the Alliance’s best hope? We’re a bunch of gamer geeks, not soldiers.”
“Yes we are!” Milo replied. “We all just enlisted, remember?” He shook his head at her. “Come on, lady—can’t you try and be a little more positive? This isn’t over yet. We can still win this thing!”
Debbie studied him for a moment before she replied. “Don’t you get it, Milo? No matter who wins, millions of people are going to die when the fighting starts a few hours from now.”
He waved a hand at her dismissively. “Oh, grow some balls! If killing these alien dipshits is half as easy as it is in the game, we’re gonna kick their European asses!”
“Europan, Milo,” I said. “You. Rope. An. Not European.”
“Whatever the fuck you wanna call them,” he sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“I hate to say it,” Whoadie said. “But I agree with Milo. If we beat them in the game, we can beat them in real life.” She looked around at the three of us hopefully. “After all, we are the best of the best, right?”
Before his QComm even had time to finish translating for him, Chén jumped to his feet and shouted “Right!” with a raised fist. Then he bared his teeth and shouted something that sounded like “Sheng-lee!”
His QComm repeated the word in synthesized English: “Victory!”
Whoadie grinned and raised a fist of her own, then repeated after Chén, shouting “Sheng-lee!” at nearly the same volume.
“Hell yeah!” Milo shouted, throwing up a pair of heavy-metal horns. “Sheng-lee!”
Debbie glanced at me, waiting to see if I would take up their battle cry, too. Privately, I shared her grim appraisal of our chances. But feigning optimism seemed like it would be better for everyone’s morale—including my own.
I raised a fist like the others, then, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, I repeated their cry of “Sheng-lee!” I nudged Debbie with my elbow, and she sighed in resignation.