Daniel jostled the radar in its mounting, scowling at the twisted hunk of metal that was all that remained. “Complete junk. The sergeant was right. We got bad gear with that donation. Should’ve known not to trust a company backed by a politician.”

  ? Maeve watched over his shoulder, taking a step back when he gave up on the broken piece of equipment. “I’m pretty sure that was the fault of the Model 3.”

  ? “I’m not talking about the radar,” Daniel muttered. “If our shield dome had worked, that wouldn’t be broken, the sergeant wouldn’t be dead, and this entire rig wouldn’t be a piece of scrap!”

  ? He kicked the vehicle to vent his feelings, but only succeeded in making it rock back an inch or so. And now his foot hurt. Great, he thought sourly. It’s strong enough to resist me. Built a little better, it could probably handle a Model 3.

  ? “Do you have any other way to call for help?”

  ? “The radio in the bus should still work,” the driver said, coming around. He was holding his ribs with one hand and seemed to be in pain. “Doesn’t look like those xeno bastards attacked it.”

  ? Daniel glanced over to where the bus sat and nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. Besides, we don’t know if that Model 1 signaled any other antithesis. The soonest we could get out of here is an hour, and honestly, that’s not soon enough.”

  ? “Model 1?” Maeve asked, tilting her head slightly. She looked up slightly, perhaps thinking, then frowned. “Right. That bird thing.”

  ? “Yes,” Daniel sighed. He remembered the training sims he’d taken. Belatedly, he’d remembered that Model 1s acted as a scout. In an incursion, they always scouted the nearest area, and seemed to be followed by other, tougher models. Maybe even one of the double-digits. He cast a quick glance around then, as if expecting to see some massive antithesis lumbering toward them. But no, the coast was clear for now. “I’ll go to the bus. Maeve, keep an eye out. If you see something, shout or something.”

  ? She gave a slight shrug of one shoulder, then immediately turned to start talking with her classmate, a girl with strawberry-blonde hair styled into two buns on her head. The girl was staring at Maeve’s new weapon in amazement, and his fellow Samurai seemed to be soaking in the attention. He shook his head, leaving her to her hero worship. He just wanted out of the damn tundra.

  ? The bus was, as the driver had said, undamaged. Well, aside from the burst tires. Climbing into the bus, he quickly spotted the rifle the driver had mentioned. It was some old hunting rifle, probably a .308. He picked it up–just in case–and then snatched the little hand-held thing off the bus’s dashboard. It was genuinely old tech, probably older than the antithesis threat. Why would someone bother using tech that came in so many pieces? He pushed the button on the handheld, but nothing happened. Frowning, he tapped at the tiny screen he could see, but it didn’t come to life.

  ? “Sylas, how do I work this thing?”

  ?[Glad you asked. This is a CB Radio, used for long-range radio frequency communications. One of the latest models, to be sure, but nearly two decades out of date.]

  ?

  ? “That’s cool and all,” Daniel said with a long sigh. “But can you tell me how to work it?”

  [My apologies. I mistook you for someone who had an interest in mechanical things.]

  ? “Yep, got that wrong. I’m more into plants and shit.”

  ?

  [Very well. The device is powered by an internal battery. To turn it on, turn that large, flat knob on the right side there. Once you feel the click, it will be on. I trust you know the required frequency for your home station?]

  ? “Of course I don’t,” Daniel said, pinching the knob with two fingers and twisting it. Static immediately blared from the speaker on the device in his hands, and he continued to turn it slowly. “But I know the frequency for the emergency rescue network.”

  ? The static suddenly quietened, and the tiny screen told him he was on the right frequency. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button on the side of the hand-held section. “Paging Central Rescue Tower. This is Cadet Daniel Koyuk, of the I.R.A, Station Two.”

  ? There was a pause, long enough that he thought nobody had heard him. Then, “We’re receiving, Cadet Koyuk. I thought you were on your way back from that rescue operation?”

  ? “We were attacked by antithesis while loading up the field trip group. Sergeant Ambrose is deceased, so I’m assuming command of the operation.”

  ? “Understood, Cadet. Do you need locational guidance for your return?”

  ? “Negative.” Daniel let out a long breath, hanging his head. “Our rig was totaled. We need emergency pickup for eighteen people.”

  ? That pause was even longer. “Didn’t you say that there was an antithesis attack? How is it that Sergeant Ambrose is the only casualty?”

  ? Right, Daniel thought. Should have led with that. “The antithesis were killed by me and a member of the college group.”

  ? Whoever was on the other end clearly forgot to release their mic button, because he heard a distant voice. It was indistinct, but he picked out a few words. “…Vanguard in the area?”

  ? “Negative,” he said, raising his voice. “A girl named Maeve and I were initialized. We are Vanguard now. But that doesn’t matter. We cannot return. We need additional transportation.”

  ? Another long pause, then, “Understood, Captain Koyuk. Please remain at the site of this radio transmission. Another vehicle is being dispatched as we speak. ETA Twenty-five minutes.”

  ? “Captain?” Daniel tossed the handheld unit down, frowning. “What was that about?”

  [In matters of military or governmental rank, all Vanguard are automatically awarded the rank of Captain. That would make you, by default, the highest-ranked officer in a smaller-scale organization such as the Interior Rescue Agency. You even outrank your highest commanding officer now.]

  ?

  ? “Damn. I outrank the Chief?” That was a scary thought for Daniel to suddenly face. He shrugged, then winced, remembering the wound in his shoulder. He put a finger to it gingerly, then winced again.

  [Yes, I am glad you have a moment to dress that wound now. I have good news and bad news.]

  ? Daniel let out a faint groan, collapsed into the driver’s chair, and leaned forward until his head hit the steering wheel. To his surprise, he heard a loud *honk*, and jumped. “Give me the bad news first.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  ?[Tending to that wound will require the spending of all your remaining points.]

  ?

  ? He sat up, eyebrows raised. “Wait. You can heal it?”

  ?[I cannot. But, I can direct you to purchase and then apply the necessary items that will allow you to close the wound, preventing further blood loss until you can visit a medical doctor.]

  ? “Oh. Cool. I have 55 points left, right?”

  ?[Correct. Unlocking the Class 1 Medical Catalogue will cost you 50 points. Further purchasing Wound Stop, a natural wound-filling compound, will cost 5. This will leave you with 0 points.]

  ? “And that’s a problem… how?”

  [If other antithesis appear, you will not be able to procure more weapons and ammunition if you miss all your shots again.]

  ?

  ? “Ha. Very funny.” Daniel pushed himself out of the driver’s seat and made his way back to the group. They’d stayed in one place, and Maeve was, at least, taking her job as a lookout seriously. She’d climbed on top of the flipped rig, and was using the scope of her rifle to slowly scan the surroundings.

  ? “Pickup will be here in twenty minutes,” he said, handing the old hunting rifle to the driver. “Use that if we see any more antithesis.”

  ? “Aye, lad. Thanks for grabbin’ it for me.”

  ? “No problem.” Daniel tapped the side of his head. “Sylas? Hold off on that medical stuff. Just for now. If we see more xenos, I’ll take it. Gotta be in good shape to fight.”

  [Understood. I would assist with the search and lookout, but unfortunately, the communication towers within the area are owned by a Vanguard, and I cannot initiate contact without your direct permission.]

  ? “Oh, shit. Really? Uhh, well, you have my permission. Can you reach them from all the way out here?”

  [It is not a matter of distance, Daniel. It hinges on whether or not the other Vanguard wishes to communicate with you at this time. Incidentally, I have received such a request from Lyra, the Protector Assistant assigned to Vanguard Maeve Aiken. Do you give your permission for us to bridge communication between the two of you?]

  ? “Yeah, sure,” he said. Maeve had proved herself useful. And being able to link up with other Samurai did seem like it would come in handy. There was a slight pause, and then an outline appeared around Maeve in his augs. Seconds later, the others were outlined in green as Sylas indicated them as friendlies. Maeve was in green as well, but with a marker above her head.

  [Greetings, Vanguard Daniel Koyuk. I am Lyra, the Protector Assistant created for and assigned to Vanguard Maeve Aiken.]

  ? “Yeah, yeah, hello.” He touched the side of his head again. “Sylas, can you try to make the same kind of connection with the other Vanguard? His name is… Sourdough, right?”

  [Indeed, that is his publicly listed alias. Please wait.]

  [Connection approved.]

  ? A portion of his vision was taken up by a video stream of a man in his thirties. Athabascan or Inuit, if Daniel had to guess. His hair, long and unkempt, was pushed away from his face, revealing several biowear implants on his face. He immediately scowled and barked out a question.

  ? “What’s this Tyrion is telling me about two new Vanguard out on the tundra? Who are you kids?”

  ? Daniel leaned back as if the man were actually in front of him, shouting into his face. Well, his alias was certainly earned, he thought. “Uhh, h-hello, sir. I’m Daniel, and that’s Maeve.”

  ?? “No point in pointin’ boy! I can see the girl just fine!”

  ? “…Right,” he said slowly. He had to mentally switch gears, changing to the manner he’d use on elders. “Well, sir, we’re stranded out in the tundra. We just got done killing some Model 3s and a Model 1.”

  ? “So?” Sourdough barked. “I don’t run a taxi service, kid! Radio up to the I.R.A. and tell ‘em you need a pickup!”

  ? “We’ve already done that,” Daniel retorted flatly. “ETA… 15 minutes. We’re contacting you because we want access to your grid.”

  ? Sourdough’s face relaxed slightly, and he even looked a little guilty. “Oh. Right. Sorry, kid. I get about ten calls a month from a ton of people askin’ me for favors. Thought that was… well, just a sec.”

  ? He got up from his chair, stepping out of the camera frame for a second, then returned with a cigarette in his mouth. He lit it, then leaned forward. “Have your Protector AIs send me your cyber-codes, and I’ll add you to the system.”

  ? “Sylas?”

  ?[Done.]

  ?

  ? Daniel glanced over at Maeve, and they shared a short eyeroll. Sourdough growled. “I saw that. You kids are too wet behind the ears to pull one over on me!”

  ? There was the sound of a keyboard tapping for a few seconds, and Daniel waited. A physical keyboard? Was Sourdough like all the other fogies, clinging to analog technology? “Right, there you go. Give it a second for the distance, but you’re in.”

  ? Daniel blinked as the camera feed shrank to a small square, and code began running across his field of vision. Just as quickly as it appeared, the code was gone, and a new view appeared on his augs. It was a topographical map of the tundra, stretching all the way from the coast to Anchorage. Hundreds of dots were placed throughout the map, most of them green, a few yellow, and one red. “What are those?”

  ? “Turrets, network towers, refuel depots. It’s my grid, basically. I’ve got the tundra covered with ‘em. If one of those plant bastards pops up, I’ll know about it within ten minutes.”

  ? “Including the ones that attacked us today?”

  ? “Right. Well, you can see one of ‘em is red. That means there’s something wrong with it, and it’s not giving out any information. Happened yesterday, and I ain’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”

  ? “So the one area that you can’t see on the trundra is right where we happen to be?” Maeve asked, her face scrunching up. “Talk about bad luck.”

  ? Sourdough let out a bark of a laugh. “Right you are, girl. Glad you’re not as clueless as ya look.”

  ? Maeve bristled, her scrunch turning into a scowl. “My name’s not girl. It’s Maeve.”

  ? “M-A-E-V-E,” Daniel interrupted, spelling her name before she could. “Thanks, Sourdough. Any chance you could figure out a way to do a sweep of the area?”

  ? “Hmm. Maybe. If one of you could get a drone up, I can connect it to my network, and it’ll let me see your area. Any drone would do it.”

  ?

  [Unfortunately, such an option is outside of your budget with 55 points.]

  ? Right. Daniel had expected that. He looked at Maeve, who silently shook her head, still glowering. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

  ? “Well, soonest I could get a drone out there would be…” he leaned forward, peering at one of his monitors. “Sixteen minutes. With all luck, your pickup will be there by then.”

  ? “Ah. Well, alright then. Thanks for the help, Sourdough.”

  ? “My pleasure, kid. Shoot me a message when you get out of the Tundra. I might have some work you two could do. Plenty of points in it for ya.”

  ? “Wait,” Daniel and Maeve both asked. “What kind of-”

  ? Sourdough’s camera feed winked out, signaling that their connection had ended. Daniel le tout a groan. “Couldn’t be bothered to explain himself?”

  ? He knew it was a moot question. Sourdoughs were all the same. Something about a long life in Alaska made one short on patience for stupid questions. And if you were an old sourdough, every question was stupid. Especially if it came from a ‘kid’. He shook his head at Maeve. “Name fits him well.”

  ? “You can say that again.”