So can I shoot it now, Grandpa?
Yes, you can.
-- Red’s Interactive training program, advanced mode designed for ages 10 and up. You and yours can kill antithesis like a pro after ten simple lessons. Sign up now!
***
“Yeah, I know. I am the one who trained them at Threat Dynamics.” I replied. That earned me a calculating look from Rogers before he nodded once as if something made sense now.
“We’ve done our best to make the north side inhospitable,” Morris said. “But there’s no guarantee. The company’s dronists will have to focus on that slope.”
“Where do you want me?” I asked.
“Depends on what you’re able to do. I have three needs: shooters on the line down into the kill box, a screen on the northern downslope, and a flexible roamer that can react to the unexpected.”
“I’m primarily a mid- to short-range shooter, but I can reach the valley floor. And I’m fairly mobile, so I can switch between all three roles as needed. But if I’m being honest, I want to start on the kill box where I can earn more points. Commander Khan did want us Samurai to focus on the bigger models.”
“The more of those you kill, the less we have to worry about, so you’ll get no complaints from me if you do. How about I put you out here, on the ridge nearest the gap? That way you can snipe the big guys as they come through.” He pointed to a spot about a third of the way from the tip of the gap.
“Works for me.” I said, as distant rifle fire echoed over the ridge.
Morris’s engineers had been busy indeed. A dirt strip had been smashed through the forest on the ridgeline and packed into something resembling a road. It allowed for faster troop movement, and the fallen trees had been arranged into shooting positions. Somehow the brush and even small trees had been cleared downslope for twenty meters, leaving the view of the valley below clear.
I took a short detour and found that the northern slope had been cleared back too, but not as far. It ended at an opaque wall of younger conifers. Judging by the uniformity of tree height, the slope had been cleared and reforested with a single species of evergreens. CILS data showed random lines of loose barbed wire, trip wires, and explosives among the dense but short evergreens, forming a maze of death and frustration.
Tara must have awakened by this time since a Dragonfly came over to start circling around me.
[“--Name changed to The Divine Chorus--”] A mechanical voice said in the conference.
[“Morning all, what’s with the name?”]
[“You called us that yesterday,”] Tara said. [“We decided we liked the idea of a team name, but aren’t sure it’s the right one.”]
[“We’re still brainstorming.”] Kaitlyn added.
[“I did? When?”] I didn’t recall referring to them that way.
[“It was while you were talking with Martin,”] Ginny said. [“Team names are important for building cohesiveness, according to my professor, so I’ve been watching for one that fit us.”]
Any thoughts I had about group names went by the wayside when I spotted a ground car speeding along the road below. On its bumper came a half dozen of the larger, tiger-based Model Threes, the M-3b. The central line of troops, crossing the valley in front of a series of treelines, opened fire on the antithesis.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
In the military voice channel, I asked Morris what had been done with the lure I had left them.
“I passed it on to HQ. I don’t know what they did with it,” she replied.
“Reason I asked is that the best placement would be in front of the lines, not behind them.”
“Why?”
“The antithesis will seek it out, making a hot spot on the lines if it’s behind them. Out front, the plants will gather at that point, leaving more time to eliminate them. It’s sturdy enough to take a beating.”
A few minutes later, a squad of troopers rushed out fifty meters into the field in front of the main line, paused in a small circle, then sprinted back to the line, leaving a small box behind. Behind the initial group of Model Threes came a dozen Fours and a pair of Sixes, all of whom veered across the field towards the lure.
--It’ll take a little while to reach the main swarm. The wind will channel it through the gap, intensifying their response.
The trickle increased, and I took some shots at the M-5 and M-6 as they passed by. Soon, large groups of antithesis flowed down the road below. I turned on the AR for CILS, and the valley burst into a wash of artificial color. Dozens of arcs appeared, showing firing lanes for various companies, and icons collected into bunches like grapes on the vine. Here and there, red circles flashed, followed by explosions from heavy weapon impacts. Another layer showed wind currents at several points.
All it needed was some hit point bars to complete the feel of a video game. Several points flashed a gif-like target that bounced erratically around the field, focusing along the road. The simple icon indicated where some officer called for more fire.
The troopers to my sides sped up their fire into an even pace of single shots, the unhurried rate of professionals concentrating on aim over volume of fire. Even the heavy machine gun fire felt more careful, using tiny three- to five-round bursts with deliberate spacing in between.
I flicked a series of commands at the CILS manager and soon had the display trimmed down to the fields of fire for 64Alpha Recon and the wind currents spread over the valley. A lurid purple arrow and icon blinked at me, pointing to the right. A couple of seconds later, I remembered that color called for Samurai attention or actions.
[“Command channels are lighting up,”] Ginny reported. [“They’re worried about how many are coming down the road, unbalancing the field below.”] I didn’t know how she kept track of all the command channels so well—there were six or seven voice channels and double that for chat. I liked the insights into the bigger picture I got from their conversations; it allowed me to change plans and fill in where I was needed. But even more I appreciated Ginny doing it for me, since it left me free to concentrate on combat.
[“I’m starting to get glitches again,”] Tara reported. [“And there’s a larger shape in the gap that’s hard to see through the distortion. It’s probably a bloater.”] If I leaned forward and craned my head to my right, I could see into the gap, where a large body was knocking down trees as it came.
[“I see it,”] I said. [“Ginny, is there anything I can do about the traffic flow?”]
[“Only if you can launch a bridge out there. The river bends across the fields, and the antithesis don’t cross it but go around instead, which pushes them to the right. The commander is moving some units around, I think, to reinforce the right side.”]
I thought about the situation as an odd shiver ran down my bones.
In my visor, a window appeared, showing a graph on which many horizontal lines rose abruptly.
--There’s a general signal increase on all the EM bands you can receive. It’s probably EMI from the Model Twelves.
The shiver grated up and down my bones in an irritating wave.
--Either you were too distracted to notice, or today they’re using a narrower area of effect, making it stronger and easier to notice.
--Maybe. It’s hard to tell right now.
As the large flying model neared the stream, I took careful aim at the wing joints. Lines of tracers reached for the large alien from all three sides, and I mashed on CILS’ claim button. The last thing I needed was for one of them to get in a lucky shot and kill it ahead of time.
“I’ll take that first Twelve. I’m going to try to make a bridge with it,” I subvocalized in the Samurai channel.
“Neat trick if you can pull it off,” I heard Gangnam say as I pulled the trigger. The wing joint burst in a flurry of green blood and fire. I switched to the other joint, and the alien dropped to the ground just short of the river. It struggled to stand, and one of its legs collapsed. With the leg bent out at a bad angle, it pushed forward into the river.
--Next one’s got a kick and a half.