Chapter Fifty-Five - Low Expectations

“Don’t fuck with Samurai.

It’s pretty much the most important memo sent out to corporate drones. And yet, every year, there's a smooth brained idiot that shoves their own foot so deep into their mouth that they tickle their brain stem.

The problem is that so many Samurai work hard to cultivate a certain image. They’re nice, or silly, or fun. They do charity streams, volunteer for things, and donate money in their own name to help their community.

Idiots will think that they’re soft-hearted.

But as soft as the tiger may be, it still has teeth and claws, and if you fuck with its children, it will mess you up.

So a ‘mistake’ happens. Some office drone gets their remains spread across three time zones, and then the entire corporation needs to backpedal.

The next week, like clockwork, a new memo goes around.

Don’t fuck with Samurai.”

--Excerpt from a corporate training video, 2041

***

I wasn’t fond of those weird platitudes, the half-true words people used to make something awful sound normal. They had plenty of euphemisms for the kittens. ‘Differently abled under privileged children with no solid parental figures,’ was an entire mouthful, but it’s what we heard whenever someone came along who was too pussy to call us all crippled orphans.

I hated that kind of crap. It was fake and it always sounded so damned condescending.

It’s why I knelt before the two kids in the group of seven, the only seven in the entire shelter who had survived and I did my best to meet their eyes.

“You came down here with anyone?” I asked.

They glanced over to the bodies. The soldier Monroe had left with me was covering each one with a blanket he pulled from the emergency supplies. He didn’t have to, but I appreciated the gesture.

“Mom,” the girl of the pair said. “She came with us.”

I nodded, worked my jaw a little, then bit the bullet. “She’s dead.”

The girl grabbed onto the boy. They had to be nine-ten years old. Smart enough to understand. Their eyes filled with tears. “You couldn’t save her?” she asked. “You, you saved us. I thought you were an angel and...” She clutched at her chest, pulling on a necklace.

“There’s no such thing, kid,” I said. “And I’m just a bitch who didn’t get here fast enough. But you’re alive. So is your brother. I’d like to keep it that way.”

I got to my feet and looked at the other survivors. The old woman looked like she could chew nails, the fat guy was teary-eyed, but wasn’t meeting my gaze. The others looked a little dazed, but they were healthy enough.

“We’re moving in three minutes,” I said.

With that, I moved off towards the shelter’s entrance.

Monrow met me halfway. “We’re hearing stuff out there. Our scanners picked up some motion too, but nothing actionable.”

That they had scanners was news to me, but it wasn’t too surprising. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “We’re moving in a little bit. I... need to set things up to dispose of the bodies. I’ll take point after with Dumbass. Can your guys keep the rear safe?”

He nodded. “Speedy reported that there are a few Model Threes out there. Nothing bigger yet.”

Right. I’d forgotten that we couldn’t afford to stay put forever. “Just get ready. I might give your guys some bombs with timers to leave behind. As a gift.”

I don’t know what gave it away, but I could tell he was pleased. “We’ll look forward to it,” he said.

Turning back to the rows of bodies, I let out a sigh that felt like adding ten pounds to my hack. “Myalis. We’ll need something for the bodies.”

A few Mark I Flesh Melters would work well enough, I suspect.

I nodded. “I guess so.” I waited for Monroe’s man to finish adding the last blanket, then waved him over. “We’re heading out. Wanna help me move everyone into the corridor?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

Getting everyone up onto their feet was a bit of a chore, they looked like people who had just gone all out at the gym and who were now regretting it. Even the kids had a hard time walking. Still, they didn’t complain. I wonder if it was because it took too much effort, or if it was because they realized how close they’d come to dying.

The girl tore her necklace off and flung it deep into the room before stepping out.

Tough little brat. She reminded me of my kittens. “Myalis?” I asked.

A moment later I had a trio of grenades in hand which I flung into the room.

And that was that. Monroe and I took the lead, the other three soldiers stuck to the rear, and with the kind of speed I was used to when leading brats around, we moved towards the exit.

I tucked Whisper against my shoulder and pretended not to hear the sniffling coming from right behind me. “Dumbass,” I said. “Scout ahead.”

My little drone skittered past up to the next corner.

I wasn’t expecting to see a dozen tentacles spearing out towards the drone.

“Shit,” Monroe said as he brought up his gun. He fired a burst that clipped some of the fleshy tendrils.

Whisper hissed and soon the air next to the tentacles filled with subsonic shards of glass.

Dumbass skittered back over to where we were, and the civilians behind us huddled in close.

“Stay calm.” I ordered as I stared ahead. A few twitching tentacles were left on the ground, but no Model Four appeared.

I stepped up, moved to the opposite end of the corridor and, when I got closer, peaked around the corner. A trail of green blood led off a way and then moved around another corner.

“Fuck. It’s moved on,” I said. I looked around again, expecting some new big nasty to jump out at me, but nothing came around. “Right. Myalis, can I have like... mines or something?”

For an extra point you could replace the triggering mechanism on any of your explosives with a sensor-based one. I would suggest learning how to do that with an explosive that won’t kill you when you inevitably mess up.

I snorted, the bit of humour unexpected. “Right,” I said. “Monroe, I’ll be taking the rear for a bit. Dumbass, keep scouting ahead.”

I bought a Resonator grenade while the soldiers and civvies moved past, then started eyeing the sensor... thing on top of it. There were two settings, one had a small icon of a broken line, the other an open eye. In the middle was a sort of lens.

The primary setting is a laser. Once broken the explosive detonates. The second is a motion detector. It gives you twenty seconds after activation to remove yourself from the area.

I flicked on the first open, found the big on button behind it, and pressed it.

A red light flashed out of the grenade, forming a line between me and the floor. One that immediately broke the moment I moved.

I flung the Resonator away as it started wailing.

I would say I’m impressed, but it’s very much the opposite.

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

All of my companions were looking over to me, so I stood taller and hoped that they couldn’t see the colour of my face in the poor lighting.

“Just covering our rear,” I said. “Keep moving.”

They kept moving, some of them pressing hands over their ears to block out the racket from the grenade.

I jogged up to the nearest soldier while muttering to Myalis. By the time I caught up I had a handful of resonators to give him.

“Place these on the ground behind us, laser bit pointing away. Also, activate it after you place it. Not before.”

The soldier cradled the grenades like a live baby. “Um. Yes ma’am,” he said as he passed his rifle to his partner.

I moved back to the front of the group while unslinging Whisper from my back. “We should be safe from behind,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said. “Good idea with the lure back there.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

This is just humiliating. I hope I can expunge all evidence of this from any record or the other AI will mock me for eons.

Our path continued unmolested by any aliens until we reached the stairwell. At some point, the lights had gone out. Worse, the body we’d left untouched by the door was long gone.

I saw Monroe reaching up to touch the side of his helmet. He nodded, and I heard muffled speech coming through before he turned my way. “The cars are meeting a lot more resistance now. I think they’ve been marked.”

Nodding, I gestured out ahead. “Then we’ll get to them in a hurry.” I shook off the bad feeling roiling in my stomach. How many shelters had stories just like this one?

We weren’t even supposed to come here until I insisted.

And the orange zone would only grow bigger as time moved on.

As I stepped into the stairwell and began looking for trouble, a small part of me was hoping that I wasn’t the only idiot out there doing her best to keep folk alive.