As they picked their way across the battlefield together, Nic thought about all the ways he could kill Jarek.

Jarek had his back turned. He was lugging a heavy Rocket Launcher, the weight of which slowed his proxybot’s movement slightly, Nic judged. He could pull the pins of Jarek’s Grenades or go for the proverbial jugular with his Combat Knife. He still hadn’t gotten what he assumed was the traditional Submachine Gun-Pistol combo kill yet—always a viable option to try. He could even activate his Overclock and use the enhanced speed to steal back his own Rocket Launcher and make off with it. Basically, he had options.

He hoped that Jarek didn’t give him a reason to use any.

“Staying in the trenches is a good way to steer clear of most lines of fire,” Jarek explained as they walked. “Had to learn that the hard way. Only thing is, if somebody spots you and chucks a Grenade, it’s pretty much guaranteed you’ll take a hit.”

“Someone did that to me, too, actually,” said Nic. “Gotta stay frosty out here. You should never get too comfortable...”

Jarek cast a glance over his non-launcher-bearing shoulder. After a moment, he replied, “True.”

Surveying the Arena, Nic could tell one thing for certain: the Final Exam was starting to eliminate some of his classmates. There were fewer engagements happening around them, fewer dust plumes from popped Grenades—an overall quieter ambience with a sprinkle of bullets rather than the downpour there had been earlier. He checked the running clock at the top of his HUD.

00:32:10

For all we know, dozens of players could already be eliminated, Nic thought. Jarek almost was. He imagined those unfortunate souls in their bunks. Slamming their SimSuit helmets to the floor. Punching the walls. Fighting back angry tears as they were escorted from their bunks to wherever the losers went. Stomping. Gritting their teeth. At least, that’s how he would react to a defeat like that. Maybe some of them didn’t want to visit uncharted planets and secure them for humanity’s future.

But he sure did.

“Do me a favor,” said Nic after a stretch of uncomfortable silence. “In case we get attacked and you lose a gunfight—”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Jarek laughed, brandishing the Rocket Launcher. “With this heat?”

“I know, but I’m saying, just in case... you should tell me where this Upgrade Pak is. If you die, I’ll have no way of getting the rest of the trade we agreed on.”

I’ve got you now, Nic thought. Truthfully, even after he agreed to the truce, he never fully trusted Jarek. In a contest like this, it would be naïve to assume Jarek was just a kindhearted soul looking to make an honest swap. You’re going to do one of two things. You might refuse, because I can just kill you as soon as you tell me. You’ll lose some trust that way. Or, if you want me to trust you more, you’ll make up something vague. ‘Oh, I saw it on the other side of the Arena, next to a tower or something. I’ll point it out when I see it.’ If you say something like that, then I'll know to trust you even less.

“There’s a cave in the northwest quadrant of the Arena,” Jarek replied matter-of-factly. “Only cave I’ve seen in here so far. Metal tower to the north of it, two rock columns next to each other about 20 meters to the south. The cave has a purple Upgrade Pak in it, an Incognito.”

Maybe this guy’s not messing with me after all. “That sounds promising. I’m surprised you already know what it’s called. Didn’t think you would’ve gotten that close to it.”

“Didn’t. Just saw the purple glow in the cave. They’re all different colors, the Upgrade Paks—you know that, right? I remember RTIFIS told me Incognito was purple. Makes you invisible to other players or somethin’. Not sure if you’re really invisible or if everyone else’s HUDs just mask you...”

“I didn’t have time to learn about the Upgrade Paks beforehand,” said Nic. “Good to know.” Or maybe he’s bluffing. If he already knows about them, he can easily lie about having seen one even if he didn’t.

Jarek shot another half-glance over his shoulder at Nic as they walked. “You know, somethin’ else I meant to ask you—”

“Look out!”

A lit Grenade rolled toward the edge of the trench but stopped short of falling in. Nic and Jarek both ducked low—the explosive went off, carving a chunk out of the trench and spraying them with dust and fragments of rock. Thankfully, their cover seemed to take the brunt of the damage.

PLAYER 443 [#########-]94% PLAYER 213 [#########-]91%

Nic missed his Armorizer.

“Thanks for the warning,” said Jarek.

Nic raised his SMG. “Don’t get cozy. I see hostiles nearby.” The tactical lingo of Trigger Point flowed effortlessly past his lips like a second language.

PLAYER 11 [#########-]92% PLAYER 31 [##-_______]22%

Player 11 eliminated their foe with a smattering of annoyingly precise one-handed Pistol shots to the head. Player 31’s proxybot collapsed in a heap of destroyed circuitry as the killer reloaded.

Nic took this opportunity to lob a Grenade in that direction.

Player 11 took notice instantly, turning their pistol on Nic and pulling the trigger as fast as the mechanical limitations of the gun would allow. The SimSuit pinged each hit onto Nic’s real-life cranium—it hurt each time, but thankfully not as much as a real bullet would have.

Player 11 had been strafing while shooting as well. When the Grenade went off a second after landing, they didn’t take full damage.

PLAYER 11 [####-_____]48%

“Take the shot!” Nic told Jarek.

“Will you still get the Assist?” Jarek asked, getting ready to pull the trigger. “You only did 40-some damage, right?”

“Just do it!”

Jarek obliged, aiming the Rocket Launcher and firing. Nic watched the projectile propel itself out of the weapon’s tube spitting fire in its wake, accelerating as it went. Player 11 didn't even have time to run. The rocket exploded thunderously on impact; Nic could even feel the reverberation fed subtly through his SimSuit.

Jarek pumped his fist in the air. “Kill #6, baby! Woohoo!”

Well, at least he got something out of it, Nic thought glumly. Good for him. Hopefully I get the next one.

Just then, a notification popped up on Nic’s HUD.

ASSIST | +50pts

I got the Assist after all! You must earn it by knocking another player to below 50% of their total health, regardless of how much damage you did. Interesting. He waited anxiously to see his updated ranking in the competition.

PLAYER 443: 450pts [34TH]

You’ve gotta be kidding me. This is ridiculous! He was relieved to see the game still credited him with points for damaging Jarek’s kill, but now he was sliding even deeper down the leaderboard. At this rate, he worried he might drop out of the Top 100 irrevocably if he didn’t get some more kills soon. Maybe I should just take the weapon back. Tell him the deal’s off. I cannot lose this! But... I can’t go back on my word either. I don’t know what to do.

“Tell you what, partner,” said Jarek, patting the side of the Rocket Launcher as if congratulating the weapon on a job well done. “Once I get my last kill, if there’s any rockets left, they’re all yours. You should take my Grenades and ammo, too.”

“Much appreciated,” Nic replied.

“Come on. Let’s see if we can find some grouped-up players. Maybe you can get a few Assists at once. And hey—if you want dibs on a kill, man, just call it out. Least I can do to make sure you get the points you need.”

“I might have to take you up on that. I’m down to 34th place now.”

“Really? That’s not too shabby. I’m catchin’ up to ya, though—me, I’m up to 46th place after that last kill.”

He just said 46th place. I thought that was impossible—he said he had more kills than me! “That can’t be true. I only have 450 points. I have four kills. You have six now!”

“How many times have you died, though?”

“...Once.”

“They must take that into account. K/D ratio, average time spent alive, maybe some other stuff, too. Don’t sweat your points too much. Top 50 ain’t a bad place to be, especially at the halfway point.”

Okay, so, maybe I’m doing better than I thought. I’m sure I can’t drop that much farther down the scoreboard this late in the game. Nic grasped at inferences using information he simply didn’t have. No, I can’t be sure. Doesn’t matter. If 100 people each get 10 kills before me, my K/D, my life length—none of that matters. I cannot let myself get too comfortable.

“We’ve been walking for a while now,” Nic said to break the silence a minute later. “Arena’s only a kilometer long, you know.”

“It ain’t far now. See that metal tower there I told you about?” Jarek gestured with his free hand and Nic nodded. “The cave is just past that, down the incline.”

It so happened that Jarek was a man of his word—at least about the features of the Arena. Past the astrosteel tower was, indeed, a small cave at the bottom of the hill, past which there were two spires of rock standing guard like stone sentinels. Jarek led the way, Rocket Launcher poised to claim his next victim.

“I’ll be darned,” Nic chuckled. He was almost giddy to see his temporary ally’s promise paying off.

“What I tell you?” Jarek replied, and Nic could hear the smile in his voice even through the comms. “So, once our trade’s up, are we still gonna roll together? Or split up? ‘Cuz I just wanna know before we...”

As they rounded the corner of the cave’s mouth, Nic peered inside to see only darkness. No glowing purple Upgrade Pak. No promised powerup.

Trap, Nic thought.

He snapped up his SMG with his finger on the trigger. His reflexes were lightning now, his proxybot acting in exquisitely synced tandem. “Deal’s off.”

“Wait, man! Hey! Wait!” Rather than try to fire off one last Hail Mary shot or at least threaten Nic with mutually assured destruction, Jarek lowered his Launcher. “I swear to you, it was right here! It was right. Here. In this cave.”

“I told you what would happen if you jerked me around.”

“I know that, and I didn’t! I wouldn’t!”

Nic’s pulse pounded in his SimSuit. He could feel his finger tickling the trigger, his proxybot’s corresponding finger pressing up against it ever so slightly. Another micro-motion would shave off half of Jarek’s health in a hail of gunfire. It would also leave his opponent plenty of time to lift his Rocket Launcher and blow them both to smithereens anyway. Nic would find no clean kill in this cave.

This was so stupid. You’re in a free-for-all, Nic. You let your stupid sympathy get in the way of winning this game.

“You have five seconds from the moment I stop talking,” Nic explained. “It better be good. If not, I activate my Overclock, take back my Weapon Drop, and I blast you down the scoreboard a few more notches. Five...”

Jarek held up a placatory free hand. “It was right here—”

“Four...”

“—last time I was here, anyway.”

“Three...”

“Someone musta grabbed it! I swear!”

“How convenient. Two...”

“Dude, it was an Incognito!” That reminder gave Nic pause. “For all we know, the player could be right... Hey, hold up... Did you hear—”

Jarek’s proxybot lurched backward suddenly. Its neck bent straight back from its torso and, as if torn open by a ghost, the flexible joint split along a seam, revealing snapping wires that spit sparks.

“Oh no,” said Nic. “I’m sorry! Hold on!” He charged at Jarek, hand hovering on his Upgrade Pak, trying to remember how to activate it. By the time he remembered a second later, it was too late—Jarek's proxybot collapsed, felled by an unseen phantom.

PLAYER 213 [DEAD]

Nic kept his gun leveled. “We have a word for players like you in Trigger Point,” he said. “Camper.” There was venom on that word. “You got an easy ambush kill. Big whoop. I know you’re in here now. The second I feel you on me, I’ll just pull my ‘nade pins and kill us both.”

Nic advanced slowly on the dead bot. He took baby steps into the darkness, short movements that scratched the dry Ayrus rock and sent little whispering echoes to rebound off the walls of the cave. He paused. Thought he heard something. Then he fired.

He swept his gun across the circumference of the cave at chest-level, hoping he’d be able to see sparks from bullets ricocheting off the hidden proxybot’s metal. There’s no way those could be made invisible, too. But every round he shot simply bit into the rock walls of the cave and offered him no insight. His HUD was no help, either.

Must be long gone, he concluded.

“Sorry, man,” Nic apologized to Jarek’s mechanical avatar again. He doubted there was any way his classmate could hear him; the disconnection from the felled bot’s audio and video feeds were instantaneous, as he knew from experience. He continued anyway. “It looks like you were telling the truth all along. Don’t die out there. You can make it. I know you can. Maybe I’ll see you out there again before this is over. And if we do meet up again, I hope you can forgive me. Player 213...”

Nic reclaimed his Rocket Launcher. It had serious heft to it, even for the mechanically-enhanced strength of his proxybot. He felt the weight of the weapon pulling down on his arms inside the SimSuit. He also retrieved the extra 2-rocket magazine strapped to Jarek’s back.

Suddenly, his HUD flashed a warning.

ALERT! 2-WEAPON MAXIMUM EXCEEDED DISCARD (1) WEAPON TO CONTINUE RANDOMIZED DISCARD IN 3... 2...

Nic snatched the Pistol off his belt and chucked it onto the cave floor. The warning on his HUD vanished as soon as he did so.

“Two-weapon maximum,” he muttered. “Weird.” Then he remembered Jarek doing the same thing when he first picked up the Rocket Launcher. I doubt I’ll even need my Pistol with this thing. “RTIFIS, tell me my current scoreboard standing.”

said his AI helper.

He patted the barrel of his Rocket Launcher like it was a pet. “We have some work to do, buddy.”