Simulation Error
An Alleycat Crew Short
The enemy was everywhere.
Missiles streaked through the void, contrails carving ghostly arcs through the black. Kash banked hard, the fighter’s frame groaning in protest as his G-suit locked around his legs. The heads-up display screamed warnings—too many, too fast.
He popped flares, then rolled hard starboard, cutting engines to half-thrust to fake his own debris trail. The move almost worked—almost. Two bogeys overshot, but a third stayed on him like a shadow.
“Come on, come on,” Kash muttered through clenched teeth, sweat beading under his helmet. He looped under a drifting wreck, firing a burst that shredded one of his pursuers. The explosion painted the cockpit in firelight.
“One down,” he growled. “Six to go.”
Except it wasn’t six anymore. It was twelve. Every time he scored a kill, two more seemed to replace it.
“Where are they all coming from?”
No answer. Static crackled over the comms as he pushed the throttle to maximum. The target—the bomber—was dead ahead, its massive silhouette blotting out the stars. Its missile bays were already opening. Below, a cluster of buildings gleamed faintly in the valley.
“Not today,” Kash snarled.
He dove straight into the swarm, weaving between the incoming salvos. The ship screamed warnings as stress limits hit red. His hands were a blur—cutting thrust, rolling, popping countermeasures. He had one shot left.
“Come on, baby… hold together—”
A missile hit dead-on. The cockpit filled with light.
GAME OVER
“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Calynn said, her voice cutting through the sudden sound of reality—clattering arcade machines, laughter, and the distant jingle of prize dispensers.
Kash yanked off the simulator visor and glared at her. They were sitting in a neon-lit arcade surrounded by flashing screens and kids cheering over skee-ball scores. A bored attendant wiped down the next pod over.
“The ship doesn’t fly right,” Kash muttered. “The drift’s off in hard banking, and in close combat like that there would’ve been friendly fire.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Triana giggled, sipping from a neon cup that definitely wasn’t soda.
“The swarms don’t act right either,” Guy added from the bench behind them, a cup of soda in one hand and a greasy slice of pizza in the other. “They only have like ten pre-programmed commands.”
Calynn smirked. “I think the problem is you banked into a missile. Twice.”
“That was debris,” Kash insisted.
“That exploded. Twice.”
“I’m telling you it’s not the same,” Kash explained. “The real thing is sloppier… grittier.”
“He’s right,” Guy added. “And we both have the accolades to prove we know what we’re talking about.”
Calynn crossed her arms, amused. “I bet I can beat your score.”
“What kind of bet?” Kash matched her tone.
“Loser cooks for a month,” Calynn smiled as she slid over to the pilot’s seat.
“Can we disable her supercomputer first?” Guy chuckled.
“Yeah. Definitely no hacking,” Kash laughed.
“I would never,” Calynn tried to hold back her laughter and failed.
“Her eyes are glowing already,” Guy laughed.
Calynn turned and stuck out her tongue at him, then turned back to smile at Kash.
Kash smiled back and pointed to the game screen. “The mission already started.”
The screen turned red as the first missile hit the fighter.
Calynn blinked. “No fair—”
GAME OVER
Guy nearly spilled his soda laughing. “Best. Bet. Ever.”
Kash grinned. “Looks like someone’s on dish duty for a month.”
Calynn folded her arms, trying not to smile. “I want another try.”
“Without you two distracting her,” Triana added, smirking.
“Fine,” Kash groaned comically. “One more try.”
The game started, and Calynn focused on the screen, gripping the controls tight.
Kash leaned over, a mischievous grin spreading. He drew in a breath, ready to blow softly against her ear—
He turned to see Triana giving him the look.
“What?” Kash laughed.
