Rush The Game

before they come en masse to strip the planet bare. To annihilate the entire population.”
    “The entire human population?”
    “All humans on the planet will be eradicated or harvested as a food source. Along with all other living species.”
    My breath leaves me in a rush. “They see us as cattle.”
    “You are flesh. Muscle and bone. To them you are no different than any other animal on this planet. You are meat. As we were.”
    I shake my head, thinking it might be time to go vegetarian.
    “You said we have a few short years at most. But you think we have even less time than that?”
    “Yes. That is why you are training in the field. We send those with special skills to aid those who are new. You have been aided. Now your skills are needed.”
    I press my fingertips to my temples. “Special skills . . . you mean leaders? Like Jackson?”
    “Among others.”
    The others being those in the other parts of the lobby, the ones Luka and Tyrone can’t see.
    Could this be any more complicated?
    Or any simpler . . .
    The game, like any war game, has a hierarchy. There are leaders, who clearly have access to the most information. There are soldiers, who obey orders and are told things on a need-to-know basis. Then there is the Committee, the highest commanders with the most information, shut behind closed doors. How is that any different than any human army?
    I glance at Jackson. He’s watching me, his expression smooth as stone. That only makes me more afraid. They’re giving me information that they don’t offer to every soldier. I’ve wanted answers so badly, and now that I’m getting them, I have the feeling that the price is one I’m going to find too high to pay.
    I almost ask what that price is. But then, just in case I’m wrong, I decide not to. Instead, I ask, “But why a video game? I mean, what did you do thirty years ago? Send the troops in to play Pong?”
    They’re silent. I think I’ve offended them, stepped over the line. Then the voice says, “A moment, Miki Jones. We are trying to access the answer.” A pause. “Ah. Pong. Your question is clear now. There were no Drau here thirty years ago. The first reconnaissance drones came eight years past. They will come in droves within five years at most. And Earth will be no more within a decade of that.”
    “That fast?” It isn’t a question. More an expression of horror. “What happens when they get here?
    “They destroy.”
    I shiver, imagining it. Just last night I saw a trailer on TV for a new video game. It starts with children playing in the sunshine, heads tipping up one by one as a massive dark shadow moves across the sky. Then flames, cries, destruction. The alien ships come and fire on Earth. Everything burns. Everyone dies. I shake my head to clear the image. I need to focus on the here and now. But it won’t clear. It lingers and morphs and I see a world burning. Not my world. Theirs . They’re showing me the truth of the Drau invasion. They’re showing me the destruction of their world, pushing horrific images through my thoughts.
    It’s far worse than anything I could have imagined.
    Panting, I press my fists to my forehead, trying to make the images stop, trying to make the death cries fall silent. The heat of the flames sears me. My heart pounds as I watch my ancestors herded into pens. They look like humans, all different shapes and sizes, their cries of fear and pain the same as human cries of fear and pain. They’re killed. Cut into manageable-sized portions. My whole body trembles. My lungs scream but the air is too hot and filled with choking ash. I almost fall. Jackson catches my elbow, holding me upright. At his touch, the pain and horror don’t disappear, but they ease enough that I can draw a breath.
    “Enough.” The word slices through the room, through my thoughts, through the screams, slick as steel. Jackson’s voice, barking an order.
    And the Committee obeys.
    The images, the noise, the terror . . . they all stop, like someone pulled a plug and the projector went dark.
    I just stand there, my heart beating so hard it feels like it’s jumping into my throat. “You said the Earth will be no more? The world? The whole world? Like that? Like what they did to you?”
    “The whole world,” the Committee agrees. “Like that.”
    I must make a sound, or maybe I sway on my feet, because Jackson’s there, shoulder to shoulder with me, his arm looping around my waist, offering silent support. I