Alan stood behind the hastily constructed wall. Overturned tables, emptied storage crates, and welded pieces of debris ran a length between two low lying hills. He stood just one man among the many Callisto Corporations personnel. Among the defenders were members of the security forces along with cooks, researchers, and clerks. Every hand had been drafted to fight at the front. Only a few of the upper management, the medical team and a few engineers were given the choice to use their talents elsewhere and provide support to the operation.

Their inexperience was evident as some told jokes to try and calm their nerves, while others had the look of a deer, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger. No matter how much Alan and the other’s had tried to tell them that death was only temporary, it seemed only to comfort a few of the would-be fighters. They all knew it was only temporary, but that knowledge was tempered by the fact that the pain would be real at death, and their subconcious would never allow them to accept death, not in a place that felt so alive. Every player at one point in Cosmos would have to face this fact. And no matter how long they played, or what they saw with their own two eyes, at some point everyone had to confront the terror of death. Not some painless, inconsequential thing, made cheap by poor graphics or the promise of a quick respawn. But the actual feeling of being killed, as real as could be made possible.

As a child he’d dreamt once of being killed. Stabbed in the back by his best friend. The knife twisting, and waking up in a cold sweat, instantly checking his back. He’d wondered for long moments after if he’d truly died. The vividness of the moment lingered with him for years, the ache in his back returning once again as he lingered on the memory. Perhaps it was that dream, along with his year of gaming that had prepared him for his own first death. An inconsequential battle among monsters on some small planet, but that first death, was something he would always remember. The blood and fire, and finally the moment of panic when he knew, beyond doubt, that death was upon him…

Alan shuddered briefly at the memory, pushing it aside and looking without envy at those within the line. Most would recover, the human mind adapting well to the new psychological challenge. A few however...he sighed inwardly. Some were unable to live with the brutal reality of facing their death in such a manner. They would typically live their lives like they had before. A few might even play the game, but only on worlds with little to no chance of violence. The worst to suffer were those who would shut off both their game life and real life. Unable to cope with the pain of either, the most tragic would even resort to taking their own life.

Therapists had tried to help these groups, to help them cope with the pain and confusion when they experienced this pseudo- death. They’d even conducted a few studies to find those who were most vulnerable. It had surprised Alan to learn that it had been those who had deeply sunk their lives into playing video games or online personas before they’d entered Cosmos that suffered the most. It seemed they’d already fled the pain of their real world in one way or another. Something about Cosmos, being real yet unreal, seemed to finally break their grip on their reality, shattering their carefully crafted online delusion. Unwilling or unable to escape their pain entirely.

A buzzing whine woke Alan from his reverie. A drone hovered high in the air taking in the whole battle field, so those in charge could better redirect the resources. Alan tried to appear confident, smiling broadly at his neighbors to boost their morale. Though it felt a bit cheesy, he did notice that there seemed to be a few of them that raised their heads higher and raised their shoulders. It would have to be enough.

The voice of Jakes, Callisto Corps lead manager and retired veteran, sounded over his radio. “Be prepared, the first wave is approaching. Our eye in the sky indicates that this looks to only be a small testing force. So hold the line. I repeat: hold the line. Do not take fall back positions.”

Raising his energy rifle, Alan looked down the scope to see a mass of fast moving bugs, the canine type that had killed him before, running forward. From the fortifications on the hills, on either side of him, shots rang out, as long range snipers began to harry the bugs. Alan carefully traced the shots of the snipers, and was glad to discover the shots were firing along outside edges of the advancing force. Driving the bugs toward the center, and the waiting line.

As they came close, the sounds of screeching bugs could be heard over the rapid shots of the snipers. Alan held his fire. Watching as they drew nearer. They were now at the edges of he and his fellows firing range, but still they held.

They drew closer still. Now well within range of the various arms, both projectile and energy. But still they held their fire. Alan’s heart beat quickly, he wanted to fire so badly, to kill the oncoming enemy and stop them from coming any closer. He suppressed his fear and continued to hold fire. Had to hold fire. It was his plan. It had been based on his knowledge of the game, and the monster’s he’d fought and read about for over a decade. So he held, though every instinct urged him to pull the trigger.

The charging black monstrosities drew closer. A hundred yards now. And they came, closer still. The men and women of the line seemed ready to break. Down the line, one of the gunners, unable to handle the pressure, dropped his weapon and ran, both unwilling to shoot, yet no longer able to remain in place. Then, at last, the command came. “Open Fire.” As if command sensed they could hold still no longer.

Along the line bullets and plasma bolts let loose down the firing field, ringing in everyone’s ears. And in their wakes, as if willed by the gunman, so too did all the pent up dread and fear of the line. The shot, as well as feelings, of everyone crashing into onrushing bugs. Thick black carapaces exploded, while others lost limbs or simply collapsed under the sudden and furious barrage. Inexplicable as it seemed to Alan, however, some of the bugs managed to reach the rough-shod wall of wood and metal through the hailstorm. In front of him a bug lept, attempting to clear the barricade, before he unceremoniously stretched out his hand and blasted it backwards nearly 15 feet. Others that reached the wall were met by energy weapons. Mostly tools, converted for the upcoming battle. Nearly all of the enemy were held back. As quickly as it started, it was soon quiet.

Looking around, he sought to see how they fared. To his right he saw one young woman dead, it seemed she’d unfortunately received a direct assault from a not quite half dead bug. Later it would be recounted that it had been cut in half, when it had surprisingly struck out at her. Around him he saw the medical staff attending all those who were injured in the assault.

From his microphone he heard the calm voice of Jakes come over the radio. “Alan, how are things from your perspective?”

“As good as can be expected. Though I’d say you were cutting it a little close.” “Well, it was your plan.” “I know, I’m just glad we didn’t have a breakdown in the line.”

“Me too. How do they look?” Alan looked around at his fellow defenders. “There are a few who are obviously shaken. However, from what I can tell most seem to have worked out their pre-battle jitters.” He saw most of them laughing and congratulating themselves over the victory. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’ve got to get back to seeing what the swarms up to next. Looks like phase one of operation roach motel worked. Good Job.” The radio went silent.

Alan swallowed. It was good for now. When he’d heard there was a swarm of bug-like monsters he’d already had a plan in mind. The races of the Cosmos had been fighting such infestations for a long time, and their tactics were fairly well known. Typically an alien species, however, would have the wonderful benefit of air support. A swarm didn’t last long against giant space lasers. However, humanity didn’t have that benefit when it first started playing, and had to adapt. Most bugs, even the intelligent kind, were a lot like ants. When they saw food, they typically took the most direct way to get to it. If it became too difficult, they would make another route. This could then be exploited. Once a swarm committed, it usually stayed committed to an attack.

Alan had purposely instructed Jakes and Shelley to make it seem that the frontal assault was not only the most direct route to ….uhm...their food source, but was ultimately easy to get to. So the bugs were meant to believe that they were just shy of reaching their goal. They had to let the bugs get close, even if it meant the loss of few defenders. If it was too hard, they’d find another route.

Alan checked the time impatiently. Now he needed to wait. What would the swarm do next?

***

Nick stood at the head of a long-line, flipping his phone impatiently in his hand. It had been nearly 4 days since he’d been practically forced to log-off from Cosmos. He felt sick to his stomach when he finally had realized what the declaration of war by some unknown queen had meant. He wasn’t even sure who the enemy was, but he did know that his friends were fighting somewhere without him. And what had he been doing? Hanging out in the Terran Market for the last 2 days. He couldn't help but check for messages to see if either of his friends had contacted him and do a quick scan to see if there had been any posts about Kragga.

“Next” A female voice sounded next to him calling out to the crowd. Nick ignored the now rhythmic voice. It wasn’t until it had turned to him, that he paid attention. “Any changes since the last time you looked?” Came the half mocking voice.

Nick looked down at the young female figure, sitting next to him. She wore a knee length pale blue dress with puffed capped sleeves and a small white apron. On her head she wore a pair of long white rabbit ears, which framed her long golden hair. Her face was covered in a white half mask covering her nose and eyes, but leaving her rouge lips, in a half smirk revealed.

“No.” Nick said somewhat glumly as he looked at her. He didn’t know what bothered him more, that he’d been pretty helpless during this part of the plan. Or that fact that Alice, his best friend's kid sister…

He didn’t dwell on the thought. “How many more of these do we need to do?”

The next person in-line, a young man no older than 16, stepped up holding a glamour shot of the young lady in front of him. His arms were somewhat gangly, and his face covered in freckles and glasses.

There was a brief interaction, where she signed the note and to Nicks’ annoyance, kissed it, leaving an imprint of her red lipstick on the photo. The obviously delighted young man smiled and ran off to meet a group of others who’d also had their photos signed. He only seemed to move a little quicker when he caught the glare of Nick.

“I’m not sure how many more of these I’ll need to do today. But the more I do the better chances we have.” She smiled at him. “I think I can handle things here, why don’t you get going. Don’t you have a rendezvous to get to?”

Nick looked at the long-snaking line of eager young men and even a few women from the table. Only a small knot of men in suits didn't seem to fit the look of the typical fan. No matter, at least they looked competent in a fight, even if the rest of the fanatics hardly seemed worth the time. But, win or lose, it was the best plan that Alice and he had come up with. Nick sighed, “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d come too.”

“Like I’ve said before. I still need to complete my training. Trust me if I could I would.” She ended the conversation.“Next.” She said sweetly.

He checked his messages again. Nothing. Frustrated, he stepped away from the table, unwilling to continue to watch the ongoing parade of fans. Instead, he moved himself toward the family business that Alan and his mother had set up. He walked toward the small shop, located surprisingly close to the center of the Terran Market. This had been a last minute addition that Alan’s mom had decided early on. “If Alice was going to do a signing, you might as well do it in front of the shop. Drum up business.” She hadn’t missed the golden opportunity.

As he drew near, he diverted his path, and instead made his way to the equally popular restaurant Reardon’s Garden: An Uncanny Culinary Event. Attached to Alan’s shop.

Making his way inside, he saw Reardon behind a glass counter, the small but efficient kitchen area of the restaurant. Reardon busied himself moving from one station to another, his large ponch somehow nibley avoiding the pots, pans and other hazards in the small cooking area, almost as if he were half his size. Nick wondered silently as he approached the counter if perhaps Reardon had put all his stat points into agility. His musings were interrupted by a young lady, in a green short length dress.

“Hello, sir. Welcome to Reardons. I’m sorry but there’s a 30 minute wait time for a table. Perhaps you can wait outside.”

Nick took a step back. 30 minute wait time? He was here only yesterday, and had seen that the place had started to hire a few servers to help with the increase in popularity.

“I, uh,” Nick hesitated. “I was just hoping to sit at the counter.” He didn’t recognize the server.

“Oh, I see. Chef Reardon shared that the counter was going to be closed today.” She looked at him apologetically.

“It’s all right Emmy.” A voice, half filled with humor, came from behind the counter, “He’s a friend of our most gracious patron. You can let him sit wherever he likes.”

Emmy, the serving girl, face turned beet red. “Oh, I’m sorry sir. My mistake.” She helped him to the counter, and left for a moment before returning with a metal stool for him to sit. Nick only nodded, forcing a smile to help her feel at ease.

Moments later, a large steaming bowl of...something blue was placed in front of him. “Nick, I want you to be the first to try my newest recipe. I call it blue stew fondue.”

Nick looked down at the bowl of semi gelatinous blue goop in front of him and swallowed hard. Though he’d always thought of himself as fearless, he wasn’t so sure. Especially, with the small bits of...were those fly wings? He looked up, seeing Reardon’s reassuring smile. I guess it’s not a joke, he thought. He carefully took a spoonful and, somewhat expected, the goop stretched like hot mozzarella, as he put the bite carefully in his mouth. The soup was warm and somewhat chewy. It tasted like cheese with notes of citrus and pepper, and yet not like any cheese he’d ever had. And despite its warmth, there was a cool aftertaste that reminded him of hiking in the mountains, when the snow had not yet melted. Before he knew it, he’d finished his entire bowl.

“Well I’m glad to see you like it.” Reardon looked on patiently. “But you missed the best part”, as he pulled out what looked like a large piece of asparagus, but had the density and shape of a breadstick. “I’ll get you a second bowl.” Nick used the long green stalk to soak the remnants of his soup to take a bite. It had a crispy texture and it was mildly nutty, a perfect pairing for the soup. Instantly, he felt lighter, as if the burden of the last few days had been removed.

Nick was surprised to see a notification appear.

Consumed: Blue Stew Fondue. You have received a 15% boost to mental stability and +1 to strength for 3 hours.

This food gave you a stat increase? Nick was shocked. He had no idea that food could do that.

“Reardon, did you know your food gave me a stat bonus?” Reardon gave him a large grin, as if he’d finally let Nick in on a secret. “I just got a cookbook on how to go about doing it. This is my first recipe.” He placed the second bowl in front of Nick.

Nick was about to dig into the second bowl, when an idea struck him. “Reardon, how long do you think it might take to make a few gallons of this?”

Reardon turned around, a twinkle in his eye. “I was wondering when you were going to suggest the idea. But first, there's a few other recipes I’d like you to try.”