Samurai get put up on these pedestals, and people think that because we have cosmic spanning power, we’re perfect. We’re not. The truth is that most Samurai were not ready for the job, and we make mistakes. We all do. Roadrash did it several times, and it cost him his feet. Golden Guy did it and lost a city. Sprocket Rocket paid for his mistake with his life.

There’s no training camp where we learn what works and what doesn’t. In the heat of the moment, a decision has to be made, and sometimes we get it wrong. Hopefully we survive doing the stupid and can not do that again. Sometimes we don’t.

--T4 (Tiny Tough Terror of Titans), in a speech at a con shortly after the death of the Vanguard Spur. 2045

***

The walk back from the secure area to the machine room was as boring as it had been going the other way. The doors we had blocked coming in were still sealed, and none of the Anti’s had found the hallway yet. We had one small hiccup when we realized that Tara would have to be led by someone. To control so many drones, she had to dive into their control systems, a fully immersive experience that blocked off her sight. Two of Tara’s drones flew ahead while the SuperEye spider continued to cling to my helmet. I figured that it reassured her to know where I was.

When the scout drones reached the machine room, I paused to maximize the camera view. The white clouds of flesh-dissolving gas were gone, along with the piles of Anti’s corpses. What remained was a gooey mess of putrid fluid with the consistency of curdled milk, which stuck to the ankles of the M-3s sniffing and thrashing at the spiked barricades I had put up.

At the console, several enterprising M-4s searched the area. Their many small tentacles caressed each surface, lingering on the ones where we had spent the most time—where we had braced to fire on their brethren. Where the door behind our hold-out had been closed up, two more M-4 poked at the gaps. Their sharp-ended tentacles bit into the sealing that held the barrier in place, and bits of it broke away. Occasionally, the whole barrier would shudder when something large and heavy beat on it from the other side.

My first thought was to try to sneak past. It only took a couple seconds of listening to realize that was not going to work. As we’d asked, the ex-prisoners didn’t talk, but they still made a lot of noise. They sniffed, tapped feet against the walls, scraped clothing, and someone had even found some chewing gum. The sound of open-mouthed chewing sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. And there was probably some way the aliens could detect us, even if we were quiet.

“Tara, can you show me the inside of the door we used? I want to see what’s above it.” The camera shifted dizzyingly for a few minutes before settling and doing a slow pan of the wall. The walkway stood, as did the barrier at the top of the stairs. Above the door was a mass of tentacled M-4s, their bodies packed in tight enough that I couldn't get an exact count. If I had to guess, because I did, there might be 15 or twenty of them waiting to drop on anyone coming through.

My mind raced, trying to find a clever way to get around the ambush without bringing it down literally on top of myself. I could make a different door, and that would get me in, but would only open up the way for a greater flood, removing one of the choke points I’d need once the ex-prisoners were past.

The guided rounds from the Roomsweeper, I’d found, could only turn so far. Anything beyond a narrow cone would take more distance than I had here. They’d never be able to make the right angle turn to hit the ambushers.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I subvocalized to the conference, “Kang, I’ll need you and all your fighters at the front. Your team, Kaitlyn, and Ginny will have to protect the people while I clear out the machine room.”

“Okay, moving up.” Kang simply replied.

“What? No, that’s not okay.” Ginny glared at me.

“I’ll be fine. There’s only a dozen or so.” I lied to them. I wasn’t at all sure I would be fine. The only way I could think of to get an angle on the M-4 above the door was to go through it. That put me dangerously close to the Anti’s. A rifle was not going to be fast enough, even the Roomsweeper. With two pistols, I could fire faster in multiple directions. I felt confident that I would be able to clear the way, at least. “Corie, it’s time to spend some of those points. I need replacement pistols and some melee weapons, just in case.” I said that in the conference, as much to reassure Ginny as to inform my AI.

--For the pistols, did you want to upgrade them? There are some energy pistols I think you’d love.

--The point cost is the same. Your current catalog only covers long rifles. For pistols, you’d have to get another catalog either way, but the energy weapons catalog is more flexible. The laser pistols act the same as your old ones. Even down to the swappable battery being good for nine shots. The only difference in use is that there’s no drop or kickback. And each laser shot does more damage. The drop doesn’t matter much at pistol range. The fire rate comes out the same when you include the time to recover from kickback.

I could tell from her tone that she was excited about this. If she was right about the characteristics, then the change wouldn’t be too jarring.

--Understood. The last thing I want to do is put my Vanguard at risk. Do you want to stay with the shoulder harness or go for a hip or thigh holster?

--Okay, and for the melee, did you have a preference?

I thought about how the last melee went. Granted, it was a disaster, but considering it was only the second time I’d ever fought hand to hand, I hadn’t done too badly.

--Did you want to stick with a single edge? Or try a double edge?

--Okay, I have the perfect thing for you. Or things, it’s a pair. They’re a pair? Whatever. Ready for them?

"Catalog Unlocked: Class I Energy Weapons

Cost: 100 Remaining points: 1,112

"Purchased: Triskin Holdout with holster

Cost: 80 (qty: 2) Remaining points: 1,032

"Purchased: Voratus Longknife

Cost: 80 (qty: 2) Remaining points: 952

A pile of nylon webbing around two holsters appeared alongside an arm-length flat box.

--Yes? she replied sweetly.

--A samurai’s blades deserve respect.

Her voice dripped with a false piety that could not hide the undercurrent of humor.