Connor and the Wolves - 11. The Best Laid Plans

Connor dug through his bag one last time. Laptop, check. Chargers, check Spikes, check. He slipped in some extra change for the bus and a small snack for after practice. There wasn’t much more he needed.
Slipping out of the bedroom, Connor grabbed a banana from the kitchen.
“Heading out, Dad,” he said.
“Have a good weekend,” River grunted from a leather recliner. His nose was buried in a thick book — one of his murder mysteries, by the look of the cover.
“I try not to,” Connor joked.
Glancing at his phone, he hurried out the door, choosing to leap down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
“Hey, Connor!”
Skidding at the bottom of the stairs, Connor found an elf waiting for the elevator. He plastered a friendly smile on his face.
“Hey, Dan. Might want to hurry up. Father’s probably getting naked as we speak.”
“Oh gods, I hope not,” the elf snorted. “Off to school?”
“Yeah, then Mom’s house after. Wish I was staying here, but what can you do?” Connor shrugged. “I gotta catch the bus. Talk to you next week.”
He slipped out of the complex, zipping his jacket up against the cool morning. River was not going to be happy to see Dan — the probation officer always seemed to pick the worst times to visit. But Connor wasn’t too worried. It’d been nearly three months since his father had relapsed on neko juice, and River seemed to be doing fine since he’d detoxed.
They’d been lucky to find their current apartment — the old apartment they’d lived at kicked them out the minute they caught wind that River was using again. Any other place would deny them immediately, but it seemed everyone in this complex was dealing with problems, and Connor and River had managed to get an apartment without too much complaining from the owner.
The bus’s arrival pulled him from his thoughts, and Connor hurried up the steps, dropping a copper in the till. It wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get to school — the buses travelled in separate lanes from the cars so there was little to no traffic involved.
Pulling out his phone, he checked PackTalk. A few messages from SharpCat waited in the SoA group, introducing a new member to the guild — someone named Soren. Hopefully, he’d be another tank. Whatever he played, he’d probably be in the way during the raid, but at least a tank would soak up a few bullets from any enemies, and Connor knew there would be enemies. The Mydaran Miners would not take kindly to another guild stealing their resources.
He stuck his earbuds in, jumping into the voice chat where the new person was waiting with Blankwolf. Connor wasn’t sure what the deal with Blankwolf was — the person showed up for every mining operation, but he was always muted. He could just be shy, but his near-constant presence in the voice channel was a little strange.
“Hey there. Soren, right?”
Silence met his inquiry. He swore he could hear traffic in the background.
“Hey CatDog.”
Connor smiled at the soft voice of SharpCat. The guild leader was on early, a rarity for her.
“Hey yourself. Guess the new guy isn’t much of a talker.”
“Oh, I doubt he even realises he’s on voice,” SharpCat chuckled. “Hey Soren, you hit the wrong button.”
Connor’s eyes widened, and he let out a disbelieving snort. Soren was with SharpCat?
“No way… Sharp, did you invite your boyfriend into the guild?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Can’t a girl have a friend she wants to introduce to a game?”
“Sure, as long as a guy can be suspicious when the girl and the friend are heard sharing a car.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible. Did you get the fleet shielded?”
“It was a close thing, but a few desperate alt tabs made my dad think I was just watching porn and not playing a video game all night.”
“Well, thank the gods for that,” SharpCat said. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for the Mydaran Miners. First sign of trouble, I’ll send Elyon’s team in with the lightning staves.”
“Sounds good to me. Tier eight armour should keep our ships up. Maybe after, I can help the new guy build a ship.”
Connor stood up as the bus stopped. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he hopped off the bus and turned toward the school a block away.
“I gotta go, though. Talk to you tonight, around eight, right?”
“Better make it seven so we can round everyone up.”
“Bet. Laters.”

The day sped by. It was always a blessing and a curse on Urdyal. Even setting up the football pitch for the festival planned for the following day didn’t take long. Connor rinsed in the locker room, throwing on extra deodorant. There was no need to give any wolves a reason to come on to him.
Most wolves weren’t really that bad. But his parents had met while working in the Wolf Patrol. Throughout his childhood, Connor had been warned about werewolves. It was just second nature to make sure he smelled clean.
The bus ride through town didn’t take long either. Soon, Connor was standing in front of a wrought-iron gate. A plaque titled the community Riverview Meadows in neat handwriting, though the only river view was for the more expensive homes to the west of the community, and there wasn’t much of a meadow.
Connor punched in a code. A quiet beep preceded a click, and he pushed through the gate, making sure it locked behind him.
Orderly rows of houses stood before him, manicured lawns and plain walls giving every building an almost identical look. Nearly every drive had at least one car in it, and Connor could hear a group of kids playing a few roads over.
His destination was just a few houses down from the gate. Approaching the large two-storey house, Connor wasted no time heading inside.
It always felt weird stepping through the door, like he was entering a forbidden universe. He spent three days a week here, yet this wasn’t his home.
Kicking off his shoes by the door, he padded through the house, heading into the kitchen to grab an apple.
“Mom?”
Silence met his call. Connor could almost hear a slight echo driving home his solitude. Pulling a note off the fridge, he bit into his apple as he read.
‘Working late. Money for dinner on counter. Be in bed by midnight.’
A glance at the stove made him pause. Six-thirty. Did he have time for a shower? Connor hesitated a moment longer before shaking his head. Grabbing the apple, he hurried upstairs to his room.
‘We’re running a raid in an hour and a half. Looking for twenty-five crew for Zasar’s Gap. First come, first serve. Let SharpCat or I know what role you want.’
Message sent on PackTalk, Connor loaded into the game, hurrying to the guild’s flagship. By the time he reached a practice dummy to warm up his tanking rotation, replies were pouring in through PackTalk.
Blankwolf — healer.
Elyon — tank.
Altanmuur — damage.
SharpCat — damage.
Soren — healer.
Connor stared at that last one. A new player as a healer? What was SharpCat thinking? Had she explained nothing about the game to him? In any other game, healing could be an okay role for learning the game. In SoA, players could only take two shots before they were dead. The best healers juggled healing and stacking armour enchants. There was no margin for error.
Sighing, Connor shrugged it off. Hopefully, Soren would be assigned to the command ship with him and SharpCat. The command crew was experienced. They could probably squeeze by without a healer.
His mouse hovered over his crafting menu. Ten harvester NPCs were collecting materials for him on Eiloth. He could recall a few of them to fight by his side, padding their numbers a bit. It was risky though — it had taken him a month to level them all properly. If they died, he’d have to restart from scratch. But if the command ship was captured in combat….
He could set Sara to healing too. It would take away a bit of damage, but it was always better to be safe. The Mydaran Miners would throw numbers at them, swarming their small fleet with dozens of combatants, if not hundreds — the Miners had a healthy reserve of crew. Most of them would be focused on dealing damage and would be relatively easy to take out. Survival was the main focus.
‘Hey Sharp, your goal is to be relatively full by the time the miners show, right?’ he typed in a private chat.
‘Basically,’ SharpCat replied. ‘Altanmuur is going to keep open communications. We’re keeping the lightning staves as our backup plan. It’s rude as fuck, but if we get swarmed, we’ll hit their ships. That should buy us some breathing room to escape. Command is last, as always.’
‘Naturally,’ Connor agreed. ‘No sense asking the guild to lose thousands of gold for us. You sure you can trust your brother with this, though?’
‘Yeah, reasonably sure. If not, he’s sleeping in the barn tonight.’
Connor snorted. He wasn’t too familiar with Altanmuur, beyond the fact that he and SharpCat were both werewolves, but something told him Altanmuur wouldn’t mind a night in the barn.
‘I’ll get Quarius in on the command ship. He can beef up our defences and act as a backup mage if Elyon’s crew drops.’
‘Good plan.’
‘Are you bringing any crew with you?’
‘I can grab Jeric and Jason if you think it will help,’ SharpCat replied.
‘I’m just not sure about Soren.’
‘Yeah, I warned him about being a healer. But he was insistent. Playing an exobiologist too.’
‘A half-elf? Well, at least he has the guild master in his pants.’
Connor grinned, watching the three dots that indicated SharpCat was typing. He’d probably just stirred up a hornet nest, but that was half the fun.
‘Oops… pocket.’
The dots vanished for a moment. Connor’s grin only grew as they returned.
‘You little shit. Don’t fuck this up for Soren. He deserves the chance to play the way he wants, and we are not together.’
‘Come on Sharp, you know me. I’m joking.’
‘Still, back off with that shit.’
‘Fine. I’ll stop poking. And I’ll bring Eric and Lysander. They’re both set to heals with a rifle, so they should be safe enough. Between them and Sara, I shouldn’t drop my armour too fast. If at all.’
Connor turned back to the game, heading to the drone crafting station. Sara was already max tier — drones were always the priority for upgrades — but she was also set for damage. A bit of adjustment was in order while they waited for more players to join the raid.
Between his preparations in-game, he also placed an order for Galyn Muur. Things would be heated during the raid. It was only fitting his mouth burned with them.