(Rewritten) Ch. 72 – Xenocide Act V; Friend Material

1. Load gun2. Point gun3. Fire gun4. ???5. Profit

– Or; How To Play Ping-Pong With The Universe

***

My eyes were closed, and my nose was buried in Leah's softly armored cleavage, while her hand gently, uh, fondled the back of my head.

Yeah, this was beautifully distracting. Yup.

– Attention: Antithesis incoming; five hundred twelve Ones, one hundred twenty Threes, thirty-eight Fours, eight Fives, eight Sixes. Estimated time of arrival: five minutes. –

I noticed Quantized me copying the information to Ypsi, and Leah paid attention, too.

"No Fourteens?"

– Observation: I would've said if there were any, fool. –

Mental middle finger, take a hike, up yours. Meh.

I was feeling cranky, and apparently it was rubbing off on AI-Tinea, too. Or maybe not, the augment did cleanse hormones from itself, after all. Maybe I was just projecting.

With an exceedingly unwilling groan I lifted my face from warm temptation and said, "Tynea, I want to try some sort of anti-air rounds. Do we have anything interesting?"

There are a few different philosophies. Do you prefer fast-firing directed spray'n'pray, possibly with incendiary shells and lots of tracers, or larger slow-firing air-burst grenades? Alternatively, guided rounds? Mini-missiles delivering braces of micro-missiles? There are far more esoteric methods, too, but they'll require additional catalog unlocks and aren't necessarily more useful at the moment.

– Advice: Replacement of primary weapon hunting rifle soon necessary. Limits of endurance reached. –

Sure, sure. Soon.

"I want booms and explosions, fireworks and minced-meat pigeons, Tynea. Gimme."

Purchased:

Total cost: 40Remaining points: 5330

A large box appeared on the ground next to me, and I picked it up with both hands. The magazine's opening at the top revealed stubby, patterned shells with what looked like a lot of cartridge behind them.

Huh, these were actually somewhat expensive at two points per round. Half a mortar shell, almost.

These will be near the energetic limit of impulse you can brace practically. Firing them won't injure you with the Sentinel's specialized absorbers, but they'll want to knock you off your feet.

The rounds go hyper-sonic right out of the barrel, and they've got really short variable fuses so they won't overshoot their target. They're dumb-fire, but the Sentinel will compute good solution clusters for you, and set the timers for each fuse.

The special pattern of the shell's…shell will cause the fragments to fold into rather sharp aerodynamically effective geometries when the payload goes off. The resulting cloud of shards, nicknamed 'Razor-Flies' for their iconic shape, is going to churn in circular motions roughly ten meters across until the energy from the grenade's detonation is exhausted. They'll very much mince the meat. It's a horizontal tornado of razor blades.

My eyebrows jumped with the mental picture. That sounded positively nasty. Who'd come up with that kind of morbid weapon? They almost sounded like friend material…

I fed the boxy magazine to my old Sentinel and watched as it added more struts to the stock of the rifle.

"…"

Okay. Maybe I really should be switching primaries, huh? Vehicle first, though. It'd suck if we lacked like two hundred points at the very end. Yeah.

A "Ripfeather!" had the Sentinel switch to the new ammunition, and AI-I pinged me again.

– Advice: Distance to target, one kilometer –

My HUD's center was suddenly covered with a new map, the flock of Antithesis pigeons marked in an uneven circle, and several dots nearby and between us, each connected to its own window.

These showed camera views of drones, and the Sentinel threw up half a dozen direct trajectories that would result in complete elimination of the aliens, but each one clipped the treeline at the edge of our clearing.

AI-I spun up another self to handle things instead, and considered several different options.

I could use indirect fire, toss the shells up high in the sky, and they'd come back down in a little over a minute. But they were rather light, and as fast as they'd go, they'd hit some harsh winds pretty high up.

Possible, but unreliable, what with them being non-guided.

If the trees were in the way, I could remove them. The Razorfeathers would thoroughly strip them of leaves and branches and bark, but the trunks would remain standing.

It'd be good enough, which is what the Sentinel thought, too.

Or I could just jump to a higher elevation at the rear of the glade, and get an angle that way. It'd save on rounds. And it wasn't like I was pressed for time. As long as I took care to brace myself against the tree properly, the recoil shouldn't be problematic either. Hmm. Might be enough to get the tree swinging, though. We'd see.

Alright. Next.

The swarm was split up, and the Sentinel wasn't smart enough to strategize. It just took the current situation, created a fire plan, and updated it as it saw how things developed. It didn't predict from shot to shot.

AI-I could do better.

I would use two rounds at the edges to shove the rest of the flock together, which would hopefully allow me to decimate the whole lot with far less investment.

Or they'd scatter and make me use even more points. Ah well, no risk, no gain.

Oh, right! "Leah!"

"Yeah?"

"Ready for the lure? We've got no big ones this time, so I don't think you'll need your cannon, and the lure will help us draw more aliens in."

"Yeah. And if I do, I'll just buy a robotic gantry to man it. Sure! Let's go!"

She wasted no time and got into her egg. In just a moment, she'd sat down in the plump creche, the little robot arms had detached her limbs and stowed them, and she'd disappeared into the pod as it snapped shut.

Lights lit up all around the vehicle, and a single large slit pupil painted onto its surface suddenly oriented on me. Leah initiated a call through her prosthetics implant, and the sound quality of her voice, picked up by microphones within the pod, was so much nicer than usual.

"I can see hella more! And hear better, too! Oh wow. Should've tried this earlier!"

Her enthusiastic tone made me giggle, and I was glad to see her so enamored with her biggest buy yet.

"Looks like you'll have to replace your eye soon, huh? Or at least get better augs. We've got the points, too."

"Yeah! Although, I'll just use this for a bit. The pod was already hella expensive, and we haven't even gotten the full vehicle, yet!"

"How much was it worth again?"

"A little more than one thousand five hundred?"

"Ah. Leah, feel free to get more personal upgrades, honestly. If it's not external stuff, it's got priority."

"Vehicle first! Don't wanna be lacking the one point at the end, or something."

I laughed at the almost exact copy of my earlier thoughts. "Fair enough."

Leah's two turrets popped out of their compartments, and whipped around a little as she tested the manual control.

She added a camera of herself to the call, and I saw her reclining in the pod, eyes closed and held securely in a five-point harness with her head secured through the shroud of the bodysuit-armor-sleeve-pajama-goop thing.

She smiled, and one of the legs waved at me.

Neat! She was controlling the whole pod like a body!

"Is there some sorta fixed rule to figure out what'll count as a prosthetic, and what you need another chip for?"

The eye on the egg wandered up and the whole frame tilted a little, just like she'd tilt her head when she was thinking about stuff. It was kinda cute, actually. I almost went over to pat the egg.

Hmm. Did the thing give her a touch sense? That would be very noteworthy for my Tickle Time list. Open up my options a little.

"It's partly about capabilities, I think. I'd need an extra implant to work tanks, cause they can do a whole lot more than I could. I'm not sure if that's a moving goalpost, though. Maybe modifying myself with greater capabilities would let me command more powerful vehicles as easily? I'll ask Ypsi. The other part's design. These pilot pods are proper body replacements. There's a bunch of different versions of the pilot chamber internals, including ones that let you jar your brain. Maximum interface, stuff like that."

Leah's turrets, ready to blast, veered towards the direction the beasts would come from, but there'd be a bunch of waiting, yet. They were still two minutes out.

Which meant I ought to get going.

I hopped across puddles towards the tree AI-Tinea had designated as most suitably positioned, and walked around it to spy a good bough, or lacking that, a solid fork to sit in.

There was one. Nice backrest, too.

I jumped up, grabbed it with one hand and pulled myself into it, until I sat with one leg stretched out along the wood in front of me, and the other pulled up to support the hand gripping the forward stock of the rifle.

"Um, Tynea."

Yes?

"Do you think this rifle will survive the firing of those uber-FLAK rounds?"

Yes, at least for the moment. The Sentinel uses a rather advanced moving-barrel soft-recoil system, and additionally has braced itself such that most of the energy will be directed into the shockplate, rather than the wood or receiver. The mechanical components will be safe…ish.

"Ish? How badly is it going to vibrate?"

It won't be comfortable. Your hold on the firearm will dampen the vibrations sufficiently.

That…didn't sound so great. Oh well. The gun only had to last a few hours more. If even.

I lined up my first shot, which would hit the left edge of the flock of Ones. I could make out their distinct shapes through my scope at high zoom, the off-putting squatness of their heads, the toothed, fake beaks, and the weird quasi-feathered bird-bat mix of wings pumping the air.

My breath slowed.

I was zen. My mind was floating in calm darkness, not a thought to distract me. My cheek slid ever so slightly on ancient walnut stock, and my eye found the perfect sight picture.

One thousand meters.

My finger caressed the trigger gently. AI-I watched as the barrel of the Sentinel jumped forwards, unloading the soft-recoil system's dampeners. The thunderclap of gunpowder broke my focus, and suddenly my hand shook with the sudden influx of explosion-induced adrenaline while a grin split my lips.

Part of me noted that much of the cartridge's energy was spent on returning the barrel to its place to load the dampeners for the next round's recoil, instead of breaking my shoulder.

I breathed deeply, partly to relax again, partly to enjoy the taste of bang, and watched as the first grenade blew up.

It was too far for the shrapnel itself to be visible, but a force rotating counter-clockwise ripped into the flock from below, lifted shredded leaves into the sky, and mercilessly tore wings apart.

Fragile bones broke to invisible fingers, and even legs were severed. Bloody bodies rained onto the forest floor, off-color fluids mixing with the muddy water. The entire flock reeled, dashing to the right, bunching up as the side near the murderous grinder reacted faster and crashed into their neighboring ranks.

AI-I adjusted the placement of my next shot with glee, and updated the Sentinel's barrel configuration for opposite rifling.

Once again, I smoothed the stock's pad against my shoulder, and held the firearm secure against the vibration with hand and knee. I would hit them from the bottom right quadrant this time, force them higher into the sky, away from the cover of the trees.

Once more I pulled the trigger, and again I watched as fury reached out and touched with razored talons, wrecking Antithesis bodies.

Another part of me paid close attention to my weapon, saw how it warped as it absorbed the Sentinel's momentum, and noticed tiny splinters of wood shaved from the bore holes in the stock. Saw how the receiver vibrated unhealthily, and how the muzzle tracked unsteadily as components fatigued.

A few dozen shots, I guessed, before the Sentinel would tear my gun apart.

It would already have issues hitting anything at a hundred paces.

I'm rather abusing you, huh? I thought as I gently stroked my fingers along the barrel. You've held on longer than I thought you would. Stayed with me all the while even as I was kidnapped. I'll let you feast on a fine supper before you go, don't you worry.

***