--Sun Tzu
***
[“Some bloaters moved in, and I’m not getting anything anymore. I almost lost one trying to push past the hash. Long-range heat signatures show at least 12 capital-class bodies. All up at the top of the clearing.”]
I’d noticed that. The antithesis had taken over a farm with a clearing that stretched several hundred meters from the road, all of it uphill. From the antithesis’s perspective, that made sense; they had a ready clearing with elevation and a decent angle down the throat of the gap.
However, it meant I would be fighting uphill all the way. One road looped behind the farm but did not come close to either the clearing or buildings. And according to Laura, my driver, the forest was a nightmare to pass through. From what I could see online, I had to agree. The dense trees with billions of small dead branches would be impossible to pass through without warning the Anti’s to my presence.
[“Corie, how does antithesis night vision compare to mine?”]
[“About even with your Kyrias Eyes for low-light and ultraviolet, but most models only sense a little into the IR. If you use your visor’s light enhancement, you’d be seeing better than them.”]
[“I was afraid of that. And the millimeter wave radar reflects off of metal, so it’s no use for finding Anti’s.”] I paused for a few minutes, thinking about strategy and what models I could run into. [“I’m going to need some way to make cover. Does the engineering catalog have smoke bombs?”]
[“Yes, and some fixed position launchers. Their range isn’t amazing; it’s a bit more than the length of that field, but they can spread the smoke out over a broad area quickly.”]
[“Better than a wheelbarrow, at least. Kaitlyn, please have my ride hold up here. We need to do some planning.”]
We paused in a triangular intersection and made some plans along with a modification to the combine. We also set up a text chat between Laura and me. I found a cheap two-way text-to-voice converter app online and routed the text through that. It made her speech stilted and emotionless, but at least it was hands- and attention-light for me. I could have asked Corie to do the translation, but that felt like an insult to her capabilities.
With communications set up, I suggested that Kaitlyn, Ginny, and Tara go to bed, setting off an explosion of protest. I could swear I heard the protests all the way from Portland. Their protests dragged on for a while before cutting in.
[“Look, if this goes to plan, you’re not going to be able to see anything with a drone. There won’t be any filming, and only a bunch of vague comments with no context that I won’t have time to explain. I was fine with all the talking during the last fight because I was in a safe, stationary spot with no immediate threats. This time I’ll have to be in the thick of it and won’t have time to do a blow-by-blow commentary, nor to sort out sounds from behind me from comments from the conference.”]
[“A compromise,”] Ginny said with an edge in her tone that made me think of gritted teeth. [“We’ll keep monitoring, but leave the conference call; that way we can’t distract you, and if we do spot anything critical, we can text you.”]
[“I can accept that, I suppose. I’d rather you all get some sleep instead. It’s been a long day, and you have been helpful. All of you. But tomorrow will be just as long, if not longer, and you’ll be more helpful awake and alert than if you stay up waiting for something you can’t affect. Think about it. I’ll be sure to let you know when we’re done here. And if not, I’m sure Corie will remind me. You might even convince Corie into giving you that blow-by-blow.”]
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I muted the conference and switched to the text-to-speech app.
“Hi ho, my trusty steed,” I said, as I patted the top of the combine. “Onward to glory.” One of the side panels fell off with a loud clang. “What was that?”
“Just a flacking cover for the oil intake. It’s been flacking coming off since the flacking thirties. We’re good.” The app had a small set of different voices it could use, only one of which was female. Unfortunately, that voice also had a built-in profanity filter.
We continued to lumber our way across the valley. After about an hour, we started to climb into the northern hills. As we crossed a bridge suspended over a creek, I saw some M-4s running up to us. I let them get close and used my laser pistols to eliminate the patrol. Their short hisses could not be called silent by any means but carried way less than the Deuce, which had a distinct lack of noise suppression. I added that to the list of upgrade features for the weapon.
When the cemetery right before the farm came up, we stopped for our last preparations, including leaving the EYRIE hidden in a bush. “This better work,” I said, as I lowered the Deuce and fired the upper barrel at the combine. A marker appeared in the mini map showing in my visor. The combine was undamaged but did have a small bump on it where the tracker round had stuck to the side. In my visor, I changed the color of the icon, making sure I could identify it.
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked Laura.
“Abso-flacking-lutely. My only worry is the insurance company pulling some flack anyway.”
“We have it on record that your combine is an important part of my strategy and survival. If they balk at that, call us and we’ll sic Corie on them.”
“Meheheah, I’d love to see them try.”
“-Shudder-,” Laurie said in a computerized, deadpan voice. The app struggled when Laurie sent emoticons in the chat and replaced them, often incorrectly, with a limited set of words delivered mechanically.
“Alright, keep it smooth here for the first bit. Up the drive and stop after the trees.” I laid on top of the combine—an uncomfortable fit. But I needed as much height as I could get and a clear view forward.
The forest had been beaten back in a long rectangle, pushing up towards the top of the slope. To the left, a dilapidated mini-mansion overlapped the seven-car garage. Or maybe it was a barn; I couldn’t see enough to tell. Something with lots of vehicle-sized doors. Above that, on the right, the antithesis were settling in.
Eight large aliens stood at the head of the field. Two lines of plates ran down their spines from the wide, froglike head, past all eight pairs of thick elephantine legs and halfway down the extended tails. Dozens of small fry surrounded each of the new aliens. Before them, lower due to the slope, stood four of the familiar bulbous bodies of the M-12.
From the back of my mind, I recognized the eight-legged antithesis as a variant of the Model Fifteen, but I couldn’t see how they would launch their attacks. Over the shoulder of one of the models I spotted the long worm-like body of an Eight. My intuitive training on antithesis anatomy coughed up the thought that each Eight would provide energy and biomass to the Fifteen, increasing the rate they could fire at.
The combine ground to a halt, and I sighted in, holding the rifle steady. I didn’t like long-range riflery. It required too many miniscule calculations and adjustments to do it well, and I just didn’t have the patience to run the numbers all the time. Worse, this was no simple shot; uphill and with an unpredictable wind. And it had to be repeated fast—more than a dozen times in seconds. On the other hand, the targets were all the size of a bus. A little drift wouldn’t hurt anything but my pride.
--All you need to do is ask. Those are a new variant of the Fifteen, new to Earth at least. Congrats! You’re the first to take on the 15e.
I paused another second, planning out my shots and forcing myself to do the math before releasing a slow breath. When I pulled the trigger, the M-15e that I hit jerked, reacting to the impact, but otherwise didn’t move. As quick as I could, I switched to the next, paused for a short breath in and out, and fired again. I repeated, cycling through the Fifteens, even as a dozen Threes came charging down the hillside.
Two of the rounds missed. One because I hurried the shot, the other because a Five randomly stepped in the way. It didn’t matter in the end since, as promised, Corie had a second magazine of the tracking rounds ready.