Stray Cat Strut

Chapter Eleven - Iron Spines

“This is going to be a fabulous merger, I’m telling you.”

“Are you sure? We make prosthetics. They literally make bombs.”

“I know! It’s a match made in heaven.”

--Discussion between MetalArms CEO and CFO before their merger with Noeing in 2031

***

The mall hadn’t changed much in the last hour or so. It still felt like a terrible place to be holding any sort of meeting, especially out in the middle of the food court where anyone could spy on us.

Then again, we weren’t planning to do anything too skeevy, were we? And a bit of public accountability couldn’t hurt. I imagined it was the same reason why most companies didn’t hold important meetings where anyone could overhear them.

Sprout was waiting at one of the central tables already, back bent over a trio of tablets which he was poking at and studying carefully. Next to him, a man in a militia uniform was standing at attention. He had a few pips on his chest which suggested that he had some sort of rank in the organisation.

“Hey boys,” I said as I came over.

Sprout looked up, then smiled weakly. “Oh, hello,” he said.

“Ey! Sprout! Haven’t grown too much since I left?” Johnny asked as he flopped down onto the bench next to Sprout, wrapped an arm around the much smaller man’s back, and pulled him into a bro hug.

“No, not really,” Sprout said. “Like, really not much. The amount of points I make from my plants is kind of pathetic.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh. Well, you know how it is. They’re not directly used by me, so I don’t get as many points from them. But hey, passive point income is nice, they’re mostly paying for themselves now.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Anyone see Gomorrah around?”

“She’s coming,” Sprout said. “She went to the northern entrance. There was a small wave pushing at the barricade over there and she cleared it out. I, ah, heard some concerns about fire?”

“That sounds like a reasonable concern to have around her, yeah,” I said. That didn’t seem to reassure him much. “What about Manic?”

“Whether or not she comes is up to her. She doesn’t strike me as someone who does meetings,” he said.

I nodded. “And you?” I asked the militia man standing next to our little table.

“I’m here as a representative, ma’am,” he said. “If you need anything relayed to the General, I can assist you. I’m linked into the militia’s net as well, I can pull up information for you.”

That made sense. The General probably wanted to keep tabs on us as well. “Alright. Well, while we’re waiting on the others... Myalis, can I get some sort of mini-projector?”

Certainly. There are a few inexpensive options available. I imagine you don’t want something permanent?

“Just something cheap would do,” I said.

Ten points later, A box appeared on the food court table and unfolded itself. A projection sprang to life above it, of a stylized cat head with a grenade pin in its mouth and a cybernetic right eye. It was even in my colours, pink and dark blue.

I chuckled. “Nice.”

I’ve been working on it for entire milliseconds. It’s a more refined version of some of the logos I’ve seen attributed to you online.

People were drawing shit about me online? That was kinda weird.

“You talk to your AI out loud?” Sprout asked.

I blinked. “It’s, um, for your benefit. I want to show you what a good AI-Vanguard relationship looks like.”

You are, to put it into terms you’d understand, so full of shit.

“Anyway, Myalis, my dear, my pal, my buddy, can we have a wireframe of the city?”

The projection changed to a loading screen, which was a depiction of a kitten running after a ball of yarn, then it snapped back to a map of the city, each building sticking out as a set of thin wire-like lines.

Sprout leaned forwards. “Okay. Nice. We’ve blocked off these streets here, here, and all of these out entirely. We have patrols that check and see if the barricades are still working, but that’s about it.” He pointed to some roads which highlighted them in green.

“Nice,” Johnny said. “I know there’s good fighting to be had down the main avenue out. Lots of babes to check you out too.”

“Um, yeah, the main roads were too large to block at first, so we’re keeping them mostly open. The idea is to have areas where the antithesis can enter with little initial resistance. These are spots that are guarded day and night. They act as killing fields for us,” Sprout said. That added four orange areas around the edge of Downtown.

“Clever,” I said, then I half-turned as I noticed someone approaching. Gomorrah, who placed her flamethrower atop a nearby table before joining up. “Hey.”

“Hello,” she said. She nodded to the other two. “Sprout and... you don’t have a samurai name yet, do you?”

“Oh, babe, you can call me whatever you want,” Johnny said. “Are you a nun, because I’m a sinner, and I need your help tonight.” He winked and fired some finger guns in her general direction.

Gomorrah turned to me. “Can I burn him?”

“No, please don’t,” I said. “Johnny, she’s got someone already.”

He tsked. “The hot babes always do.”

“That’s right,” I agreed. “Now stop flirting with her for a minute, we’ve got work to do.”

“How did things go at River Heights?” Sprout asked.

I shrugged. “Well enough. We’re pulling more militia back to Downtown. No more sending samurai over either. It’s a bit of a waste of our time, unless they really need us. In the meantime... Gomorrah, how were the aliens?”

“Crispy when I was done with them,” Gomorrah said. “Honestly though, there weren’t as many as I expected to see. Certainly not as many as we saw in New Montreal. The defences are getting hit frequently enough, but the numbers are always small.”

“How small?” I asked.

“Forty to fifty models, usually on the lower end with a sprinkling of the bigger single-digits. By this late into the incursions we should be seeing double digits, maybe low twenties. This is far below what I’d expect to see.”

“Huh, that does sound a little weak. Any ideas why? I don’t know if the area was culled by a higher-tier samurai earlier.”

“The area around the city was,” Sprout said. “Once near the start, then again two days ago. There were lots of explosions and the weather shifted around. People were worried about it. We lost power for a while, but it was re-established. The internet went down as well.”

“Alright,” I said. Something wasn’t adding up then. “Seeing as how Manic’s not here... should we proceed?”

“Proceed to what, exactly?” Gomorrah asked.

“I’m thinking the wisest course of action right now would be to wipe out some of the nearest hives,” I said. “We can pair up--a noob and someone with more experience hitting hives together. Once we’ve cleared out the easy ones, we’ll be able to range out farther, and it’ll mean that the new guys here will have more points to spend on themselves.”

“That sounds fair. There’s only two of us and three new samurai though,” Gomorrah pointed out.

“I don’t mind staying behind, or switching out later,” Sprout said.

“Well, there you have it,” I said. “I’ll go and see Manic. I should say hello at least once if she’s technically my responsibility, right?”

Gomorrah nodded, and I had the impression she was proud of herself under that mask.

“Anyway. You, can you tell the general to increase the alert level while we’re out? There won’t be as many samurai around to keep things safe. But if we succeed, that’ll mean fewer aliens too, so I think the general will be happy enough with the trade.”

“Not that you need his permission,” Gomorrah said.

“It’s just polite,” I said. “Will you be okay with Johnny here?” I pointed to the big guy with a thumb.

“As long as he doesn’t touch me he won't get burned.”

“Oh, that’s a hot mama,” Johnny said.

“Significantly hotter than you could ever manage,” she said. It was a threat.

Johnny grinned, but he didn’t push his luck, which was probably for the best.

Was sending him with Gomorrah a good idea? Probably not. But if she cooked him, then that was just Darwinism at work.

“Right, I’m going to check on Manic then head out to find some trouble. Sprout, keep me apprised. If Manic doesn’t want to play, we might switch out.”

“I can do that,” he said.

I patted him on the back. The dude could use some of Johnny’s spine. And Johnny could use a bit less. Maybe sticking them together would end with a nice middle-ground? I’d have to see.

***

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