Chapter Thirty-Four - Rule

“If you look at a bird’s eye view of the first forty-eight hours of an incursion, you’ll be surprised to see how they spread. We imagine the spread as a sort of flood stemming from the centre and going out, but in reality, just like the plants they almost are, the Antithesis move a little more organically.

Some people compare it to breathing, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The process ebbs and flows, but it isn’t constant. The amount of resistance they meet will often dictate the speed of the spread.”

--Professor Heinlein, excerpt from a lecture on the knowledge gained from early Antithesis studies (thereafter called Alien Anthropology), 2028.

***

I came down to find the dozen or so office drones, Elisa, and Storm all just waiting around. There was a listlessness to them, like how I imagined people that knew they were dead would see the world.

They turned towards me when I pushed the door open with a shoulder.

I got a lot of stares, which wasn’t entirely new. I was a one-armed cyclops with a few strange scars and a tiny bit of an attitude problem. Getting stared at was pretty damned routine. “You’re all still kicking?” I asked.

Storm pushed off the pillar he was leaning against. “We are,” he said. “How did things go above?”

“There were a whole fuckload of aliens. Were being the important bit there. If we hurry we should be able to make it up without any trouble.” I pointed my thumb towards the ceiling. “Are you guys up for a bit of a jog?”

I got that they weren’t into the whole physical exercise thing, and who could blame them, but they didn’t need to look like I’d just asked them to take part in a puppy kicking contest.

“Come on, you can either get moving, or stay here and turn to alien chow.”

That got them moving with a bit more alacrity. As one big group, we trudged up the stairs, then spilled out into the backroom for the next floor up.

I had to admit, I enjoyed the wide-eyed looks they gave to the dozens of pulped, melted and torn up aliens dotting the cafeteria. What was less enjoyable was seeing knee-high birds pecking at some of the corpses and occasionally taking bites with razor-lined beaks.

“What are those?” I muttered.

Model Ones. They become quite common a few hours after the start of an incursion and will no doubt soon be the most populous Antithesis variant in the region. Their threat is negligible, though they can still be dangerous in large quantities.

“Can I shoot them?” I asked.

Certainly. It might serve to scare them off.

I pulled my Trench Maker out of its holster and paused to aim. I knew there was this whole thing with placing your feet just-so, and aiming down the sights, and I did try a little, but I figured doing what felt comfortable was better.

Or maybe I was crippling my ability to actually hit anything.

I squinted, lined the reticule over one of the bigger crow-like birds, then bit the tip of my tongue before squeezing the trigger.

The Model One exploded in a bust of guts, strange feathers, and fire.

“Oh yeah,” I said.

The others had flinched back, but they didn’t seem ready to protest, especially not when all the other Model Ones took to the air and flew off in a hurry.

Target Eliminated!
Reward... 1 point

“That’s kind of pathetic,” I said.

Model Ones can be killed by the hundreds, and quite easily at that. Giving more than one point each would encourage bad habits amongst the Vanguard.

“Hrm,” I said before looking to the survivors. “Whelp, let’s keep moving.”

Storm nodded from his spot at the head, and soon the group was off again and circling around any bodies along the way.

The next stairwell up was meant to bring up to the parking lot. It was the home stretch. And none of those with me seemed ready to step in. A peek through the glass in the door showed working security lights that bathed everything in red. Opening the door and aiming around revealed a far load of nothing.

“I’ll head up first,” I said.

The climb was... anti-climatic. Just a few stairs up to the landing at the top. No aliens, no bodies.

“It’s clear!” I called down before moving to the door into the next floor. There was a barricade just beyond it, boxes stacked atop each other, with chairs and desks behind that.

I swung the door open then waited next to it, out of the line of fire. “Who’s there?” someone called.

I felt my shoulders slumping in relief. “I’m Cat,” I said as I brought my hand around to wave. “Cute, one-armed. Samurai. You should know me, I hope.”

I poked my head around and found a nervous twenty-something in the M’all Cop security uniform looking through a hole in the wall of junk. “Oh, yeah, okay. Uh, we can move some things.”

“Cool,” I said. “We’ve got a dozen others here. And that Storm guy.”

“Storm and Jeff made it?” he asked. “Yeah, great. I’ll tell Simmons and get some help for this wall. Just give us a minute!”

I sighed. Really though, I couldn’t complain too much. I was so close to seeing the Kittens, and Lucy, again. Then we’d figure a way to get the hell out of the centre of the incursion.

Simmons showed up on the other side of the barricade just as the others started to come up. Some of them had pulled some chairs out of the stack to sit on, others were quick to complain about not being able to get past.

“Captain,” Simmons said. “You got my men back.”

I winced a bit. ”I got one of them back,” I said.

Simmons met my eye. “Better than none. Come on in, we’ve got a few things to discuss.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy the conversation,” I deadpanned.

Humans saved: 11
Points added
New total: 226