Some hours later, the three had bathed, eaten and dried off. Now, they crouched on a ridge looking down at an albino frog kin settlement.

“Is there anywhere these things can’t reach?” Mark cursed. Looking down and the bustling town. There were hundreds of the standard frog kin, about the size of the Tinker scree. There were also a few dozen elites wondering about, dressed in large robes with wide shoulders, or wearing wooden armor and carrying naginata. “Where did they get the wood?”

“It’s actually a fibrous variation of sea weed. It isn’t native to the underground I don’t think, but neither are the frog kin, to the best of my knowledge.” Terra said, continuing “but what really gets me are the damn bugs.”

Mark shuddered; he’d been pretending he hadn’t seen them. Livestock pens set up outside the town, filled with crickets the size of horses. If that wasn’t bad enough behind the settlement there was another shaft leading down. During the time they had been watching, a pair of smaller frog kin dumped refuse into the hole. That caused a small cloud of giant flies to swarm out. They speared an unlucky fly, bound it to a pole and carried it back between them, while the uncaring swarm settled back down to feast.

Mark squeezed his rifle until his fingers turned white. Fortunately, Tinker had a generator drone and had offered to recharge his power cells. Unfortunately, he had depleted many of his own power cells in the battle and could only fill two of them. He was grateful, but even at the lowest setting of power that gained him a max of twenty shots. That didn’t seem like nearly enough when faced with an army of frog kin elites…and the flies.

“Is this really the only way down?” Mark asked, not liking their chances of getting down that shaft. Also not wanting to go anywhere near that fly filled shaft even if they could get to it in one piece. “I mean, if we dumped all the nonessential gear, we could probably fly over there and head straight on through. I just don’t see how we are going to get the gear down by going that route.”

“I do not see any modern technology; their only ranged weapons are wooden long bows. We have rations, and the element of surprise. Why not hide here until our power cells have been restored. Then pick them off one by one from a distance until the settlement has been neutralized. We will then feast upon the flesh of our vanquished foes to strengthen the hive.” Tinker suggested, without ever looking up from the data pad he was scrolling through.

Mark looked down at the seemingly peaceful town filled with white frog kin. Some hopped, others walked on their hind legs. The architecture was decidedly Asian in aesthetic, at least if this was earth it would have been. The smaller frog kin worked the fields tending the livestock, or cleaned the streets. Most were naked or at best wore rags, the elites in contrast were wearing richly embroidered robes in bright colors, and were being treated like nobility.

Running his eyes around the town Mark noted the lack of guards. There were no gates or city walls, no bell towers or look outs. It seemed to him that these frog kin lived here in peace, tending their livestock and baiting in giant flies for food. He didn’t think he could bring himself to slaughter them all just for being between him and the way out. This was their home after all.

“According to my map there’s only one more cave under this one before we reach the path to Landing.” Terra said, breaking into his thoughts. “I feel pretty confident we could leave most of the unneeded supplies here and fly straight through, without stopping in a fly swarm.” Mark turned his attention to her as she spoke. By unspoken consent they had both decided to pretend like the bath and bug misunderstanding hadn’t happened. A feat made more difficult by the annoying Scree.

Turning his head back to the idyllic little village, Mark watched the two scrawny frog kin carry the dead fly into town. He was about to agree with her suggestion, if only so they could leave this town in peace when a male and female pair of elites caught sight of the fly carriers.

The female, wearing a long flowing pink dress that hid most of her white skin pointed at the fly. She said something to her companion in a croaking chirp that Mark wasn’t close enough to catch, not that he spoke frog even if he had been. The male, dressed in armor made from lacquered plates of seaweed, walked over to the struggling pair. With a casual swing of his naginata he parted the head from the nearest frog kin. The other didn’t bother trying to flee, merely standing in place, as if resigned to its fate. The blade came down on that one next. With a flick to clear the blood from his blade, the armored elite picked up the pole. Hefting it with ease the murderer strode back to the female and they continued on their way.

After they had disappeared down the road, a small team of standard frog kin scurried over to clean up the mess. Raking the ground to hide the blood and tossing the bodies into the fly shaft. Having finished their task, they speared another fly and with it bound to a second pole started the same trek the first two had begun.

“What just happened?” Mark asked in astonishment. His vision of peaceful cave life shattering in an instant.

“They breed like crazy,” Terra said with an uncaring shrug. “Besides, given enough time a standard frog kin will grow into an elite. Killing the big ones not only keeps the population manageable but keeps the current batch of elites in power.”

Mark was getting tired of what he considered societal norms getting turned on their head. The first few decades AA on earth had been chaotic sure, but after all the malcontents had been dealt with it had become peaceful. Anyone who wanted to go against the standard got on the test ship and left. They hadn’t had a war or even a murder in decades.

He looked at the elite frogs in this quiet, self-contained cave world. Mark wondered for the first time what an alien observer would think if they were to come to earth now. Would they see a peaceful place filled with quite folk, or would they see a bunch of old people with young faces tossing their future competition to their deaths via alien shuttle?

“We will use a bit of both plans.” He said with conviction, anger boiling up his throat. Anger directed mostly at himself for how short sighted he had been on earth. He didn’t feel bad about being in the ruling class back home, not at all, he had spent two decades of his life killing and bleeding for that right. What made him angry was how assured he had been that they had won, that they had defeated those who opposed them and that they could rest easy with their victory.

They hadn’t won anything, humanity on earth were like these big frogs in a small cave. Weak and open to attack from anyone outside. He couldn’t do anything about earth, but he could at least provide a wakeup call to these puffed-up amphibians. It was too late for the elites below, but hopefully the next generation would learn the lesson he was about to teach.

He followed the trudging steps of the fly carriers as they entered the town center. An elite easily twice the size of the rest sat by a round tablelike rock. The female in pink sat at his side, after the fly arrived two armor wearing elites joined them at the table. One of whom was the murderer of a moment ago. The big one ate first, followed by the female in pink, the murder, lastly the other armored elite.

“That must be the leadership.” Mark mumbled, thoughts slowly moving into the shape of a plan.

It took three days for his plan to come together. Three days to charge the groups power cells, scout out the area surrounding the town, and count the number and habits of the town’s elites. Mark also spent a few hours with Tinker every day, taking the Scree drones apart, cleaning them and putting them back together.

The Scree Tinker was odd by human standards, but his knowledge on all things technological was beyond belief. Mark had learned more about drone construction and maintenance in six hours than he had fiddling around on his own in five days. He wasn’t yet an expert, but he knew enough to adjust his plans to fit the capabilities of his and Tinker’s drones.

“I think we’re ready.” He said, looking at the data pad he had borrowed from Tinker. He had photographed and recorded all the elites he could, and felt pretty confident there were only thirty of them in total.

“Are you sure about this old man?” Terra asked skeptically, “I mean, I don’t mind gutting their leadership as a distraction. I just don’t understand why you need to kill ALL the elites. The augmentation points will be nice, but, it’s a risk.” She had raised similar objections before and Mark had shot them down. They didn’t understand where he was coming from on this, but had decided to help him instead of hinder him, for the most part.

“I’m sure Terra…and honestly I didn’t even think about augmentation points, but that just strengthens my desire to do this.” Since he couldn’t use the things, he had honestly forgotten they even existed. He made a mental note to check that screen when this was all over, he probably got some good gains from the fly massacre that he hadn’t looked at yet. “Look, your part is easy…if gross…just hit your targets and go. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Alright, Fine. I can already see the fly team moving to the pit. You good to go Tinker?” she asked as she readied the improved drone harness, they had made for each of themselves.

“Of course,” he said already flying around the town. “We will do our part and then go kill the nasty flies for you, before you come to join us.” Mark sighed at the sarcasm; Terra had been teaching the Scree bad habits while he was doing recon it seemed.

Terra had already lifted the straps of her harness for the drone to latch onto when she stopped. Turning around she strode quickly back over to Mark and placed a kiss on his lips. After a lingering three count she slowly drew back…and cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Ouch,” he said rubbing the back of his head where she had hit him. “What was that for?”

“The kiss was for luck,” she said buckling her harness to the drone and heading away. “The slap was to keep you focused on the mission, and not my ass as I flew away.” She called back over her shoulder.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head as he watched her swaying form hanging under the drone. He hoped the kiss had the desired effect…because the slap hadn’t.

Three minutes later he had his game face back on. Now alone, he lay prone on the outcropping he had watched the fly hunters be butchered at. They had searched, but this spot still gave the best vantage point over the town. Even better, the ground he lay on was smooth stone and free of debris.

He tracked the frog kin carrying the fly pole through town. This ritual had taken place everyday at this time, each time the four leaders had come together to eat the fly. Their plan was to hit the leadership during lunch. Mark would mop up the now leaderless elites and the others would clear the flies from the shaft. Only it wasn’t going quite to plan.

The chief was there as well as the weakest of the male elites, but the murderer and the chief’s female were nowhere to be seen. As the fly carriers entered the town center and they still hadn’t showed up, the chief, and Mark, grew noticeably agitated. Before he left the area a smaller, and presumably younger, male elite entered the center with three young female elites in revealing dresses. The chief settled back down at their approach, having eyes only for the ladies.

Mark didn’t have a good feeling about the change, but it was too late to back out now. He checked that the Mark III was on its highest setting, took a deep breath and centered the crosshairs on the frog kin chief. He heard a pair of throaty gurgling croaks as he squeezed the trigger. He had a second to watch as the chief’s head exploded when his attention was ripped away by a shrieking squeal.

He rolled over onto his back, trying to bring the gun around as he did. The first thing he saw after rolling over was the chief’s female, pink dress puddled around her feet. The next was the second in command, the one who killed the fly carriers on the first day. He was naked too except for his wooden helmet…and the naginata that was already swinging down for his head.

Mark tried to position the rifle between himself and the descending polearm, but he could already tell he wasn’t going to make it. At the last second there was a small explosion of blood as the female exploded, causing the second to flinch. The blade meant for his head cleaved through his left forearm instead, continuing on to imbed itself into his shoulder. He could feel the reverberating, thud, as the blade bit bone.

Mark screamed in pain, squeezing the trigger twice in reflex. The mark III, set on the highest setting, fired point blank into the frog kin elite, blasting away its arm, a chunk of its weapon and a section of its torso. Coating Mark with a pink mist.

“…Mark!” he heard Terra calling his name, he didn’t think it was the first time either. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus. He was laying on the ridge in a pool of his own blood “…Mark…Heal.” He heard her voice again, what had she said, heal?

That’s right the regeneration booster. He triggered a dose of healing, and immediately the pain was dulled and his mind cleared. Looking down he saw the naginata’s head still imbedded in his shoulder and the stump of his arm still bleeding. With a grunt, he pushed the blade out of himself and triggered another dose of regeneration, just to be safe.

Sitting up, he could see Terra, standing further down the ledge he was laying on. She was fending off a tide of frog kin who were trying to reach him. He wondered how long he had been out, for them to get so close. Shaking his head, he lifted the Mark III one handed and lining it up on the closest frog pulled the trigger.

Not only it, but the two or three frog kin behind it died to that blast. Seeing how he could have killed ten with a weak blast, that wasn’t good math. Reaching out with his left hand he switched the lever to the low setting, or at least he tried to. With a frown he looked back at his hand and remembered it was gone. Dropping the rifle in his lap he fumbled the lever over with his right hand before raising it again to fire.

The time that followed passed in a blur that Mark would never be able to recall clearly. He remembered firing at the frogs until his power cells had all been depleted, then he gripped the broken polearm and charged. He blacked out for a bit after that, but when he came too, he was chanting.

“Fucking…flies…fucking…frogs…fucking…flies…fucking frogs” he didn’t know when he started the mantra, but he was screaming it by the time the last frog kin lay dead at his feet. He had managed to stay on his feet somehow, and, having come too, turned a full circle to take in his surroundings. The town burned below, and a trail of bodies led from the stone table at the center of town all the way up to the ridge where he stood.

“Mark?” he turned at the sound of his name to find a blood-soaked Terra. She stood a short distance away, as if afraid to move any closer. He furrowed his brow at that, “Mark?” she asked again, taking a step closer, her eyes flicking down at his hand then back to his face.

“She is freaked out about my missing arm.” He thought before his muddled brain caught up, “wait a second, she was looking at my right hand.” After coming to that conclusion, he looked down. He held what remained of the naginata in his fist. A little under two feet of the handle remained attached to the foot long curved blade. It was completely red, along with his arm up to the elbow. Coated in blood so thick it looked like dripping paint. He heard her call his name again, but he had lost his fight with consciousness at last and fell into blackness.

* * *

Mark slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure where he was, had he slept in again? His dad would be furious with him…No that wasn’t right, he was a grown man now. It was his wife who would be furious with him for sleeping in. his wife? He had a wife didn’t he, why did his head hurt so much.

“Finally awake I see.” Came a voice from beside him. Blinking he turned his head slowly to take in who had spoken. It was Terra, no longer covered in blood, but still looking terrible. Terra, now why had he been able to remember her name but not his wife’s? He shook the unsettling thoughts aside and tried to sit up.

“Hey there, calm down old man” she said putting a hand to his chest. Looking at her hand, on his exposed chest let him know he’d been cleaned up at some point.

“How long has it been?” he asked before remembering he could always check his interface timer.

“Almost a day,” she answered before he could look. “Regeneration boosters take a toll on your body, and you used two in one go. Coupled with the bloody rampage you went on afterwards and the injuries you racked up…honestly I’m surprised you woke up at all.” her normal teasing taunt was gone; she was taking this seriously.

“I see,” he managed at last, not knowing what else to say. “Where are we now then?” he added, looking around at the mud walls and simple stick roof. Their cook pot sat on a bed of coals, helping to heat the small space.

“In the town, one of the poorer dwellings. There were a few nice places here before that mad Scree went and burned it all down.” she added with a bit of her usual temper. “Though to be honest, if he hadn’t touched off everything flammable in the cave, the frog kin wouldn’t have had anything to keep them distracted while you mowed them down.”

“Drawing a blank here, what do you mean? I don’t remember much of what happened” he had managed to sit up, resting his bare back against the cool mud wall.

“Ok” she said with a sigh, tugging at her thick braid. “Well, when the chief’s dinner party changed I got worried. I kept glancing over to see if you were going to signal a change. That’s when I saw the tryst seeking duo coming up behind you. I tried to get your attention, and when that failed I shot one of my exploding bolts. It was a long shot, but I hoped it would at least let you know to look. Hitting the female was a fluke.” She got up and spooned a bowl of broth out of the pot.

Mark hadn’t realized he was hungry until she handed it to him. He downed three bowls before he felt ready for her to continue.

“So the chief died, that freaked everyone out. Then, the explosion on the ridge drew everyone’s attention up there, just in time to see you kill the second in command. The entire settlement decided to swarm you on mass after that.” She said with a helpless look, “I am so sorry, I had no idea that was going to happen.”

“…It couldn’t be helped. Mark said after taking a few moments to think. He would have died without the distraction the exploding female provided, anything after that was moot as far as he was concerned. “What happened after that?”

“After that?” She blew out a breath, “I did my best to keep them off you until you managed to trigger a regeneration. You got up and went totally insane…and Tinker set the town on fire, causing a bunch of them to rush back in an attempt to put out the flames. From there it was just a matter of mopping up the ones who hadn’t rushed to their deaths at your hand.”

“My hand, yea…” Mark knew that couldn’t be the whole story, but he didn’t think the details really mattered that much. They were all alive, and their enemies weren’t. He looked at the stump of his left arm, which ended a few inches below his elbow. He asked, “What about this? I had thought the regeneration booster would take care of it.” Well, hoped it would at any rate.

“Not how it works old man” she said with a sad smile. “You have options though,” she continued. “You can regrow the limb using augmentation points, this is the cheapest option but not the only one. There are numerus upgrade options, or you could get a prosthetic. Options with those range from a metal hand to a machine gun. Unfortunately all options require a shop, and we have to get to Landing to find a shop.”

That was a shame, but at least there was hope. If this was earth he could have gotten a clone arm grown and grafted, but that would have taken years. In the tutorial, all he had to do was make it to Landing. He could live with that, assuming he didn’t die getting there.

“Alright,” he said having mulled it all over in his mind. “Now what, do we continue on into the next cave?”

“That’s the plan,” she said with a nod. “Tinker has been clearing the tunnel of flies while you recovered. I didn’t want to leave you alone while you were out, but now that your awake I’ll go give him a hand in clearing the way. Why don’t you check your log, rest and eat. You should be fit to travel by the time we’re done.” Having said her piece she rose, gave him a light cuff to the back of the head, and departed.

The log didn’t really interest Mark too much, but not having anything else to do he decided to check it out. He needed points now to get a new arm if nothing else. Pulling up his interface he looked for the tutorial log and opened to it.

Tutorial Log

Survive 1st shuttle crash alive = 100 augmentation points Kill first enemy while suffering a surprise attack = 50 augmentation points Save aspirant Terra from death = 150 augmentation points Kill four frog people in fighting retreat = 8 augmentation points Kill one frog elite in surprise attack = 20 augmentation points Kill two juvenile roc, assist = 20 augmentation points Kill forty-eight rat folks in nest extermination = 96 augmentation points Kill three frog people in hunting traps = 3 augmentation points Repair badly damaged delivery drone = 75 augmentation points Massacre one thousand three hundred seventy-four fecal flies = 458 augmentation points Sneak attack frog kin elite alpha = 10 augmentation points Defeat frog elite in mortal combat = 200 augmentation points Kill forty-two frog kin with rifle = 22 augmentation points Massacre ninety-one frog kin in berserker rage = 182 augmentation points Currant total = 1,394 augmentation points

He frowned as he read, why there was such a disparity between point values. The first frog kin elite he had killed in a surprise attack had given him twenty points, but the frog kin alpha who was twice the size had only netted him ten. Also, four hundred fifty-eight points seemed like a massive amount but when he did the math it equaled out to be only a third of a point per fly. He frowned, trying to navigate the interface menu. Where was Derik when you needed him?

He froze as he thought of his son. Memories flooded his mine unbidden and unasked for. He would have known how to navigate this damned interface. Mark couldn’t remember a time while the boy was still at home when he didn’t have a set of VR goggles on his head. He’d written him off as a lost cause when he refused to go into the family business. Mark shook his head, attempting to banish the memories. He didn’t need the reminder of his many failings as a husband and father.

Finding an option that looked promising he selected it, then picked one of the entries he had questions on for further details.

Kill one frog elite in surprise attack = 20 augmentation points

Description = killed a strong enemy in surprise attack using advice given from a companion, 5 augmentation points. Shot required precise timing and aim to prevent enemy harming your companion, 15 bonus augmentation points.

Well ok then, he could get a break down on why points were awarded if he wanted them. Scrolling down he picked the entry where he shot the chief for comparison.

Sneak attack frog kin elite alpha = 10 augmentation points

Description = killed an unsuspecting enemy without incurring any personal danger, 0 augmentation points. Death of the alpha caused chaos to his followers and required great aim, 10 bonus augmentation points.

Reading that entry caused his temper to flair, a more powerful enemy hadn’t been worth any points at all? The points he had earned had come from the situation surrounding the kill and not the kill itself. He moved on to the next entry that had him curious.

Massacre one thousand three hundred seventy-four fecal flies = 458 augmentation points

Description = killed one thousand three hundred seventy-four fecal flies, 0 points. Fecal flies are harmless and curious by nature they would have flew away after finding nothing to eat. Subject unaware of this, suffered severe trauma. Instead of cowering however fought with desperation to stay alive, 1/3 point awarded per fecal fly killed, and 458 bonus augmentation points.

Mark stared at his interface’s screen, dumbfounded. Those flies hadn’t been worth a single point? He’d suffer nightmares over that for the rest of his life, and the system thought it was worth a third of a point per fly? Before his rage could bubble out of control, a commotion from outside caught his attention.

“…my drones did all the work and I had free time…”

“…I threw that in there for a reason you retarded Scree… he doesn’t need the reminder…”

“…It is a trophy won in battle…he should have it…”

The voices of his two companions drifted into the mud hut, growing increasingly loud as the conversation got heated. Mark struggled to his feet, looking wildly around for a weapon. Not finding one he grabbed the knife from near the soup pot and rushed out the door.