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Carpe Momentum (an SCS Fanfic)
Arc 1, Chapter 26 -- The end is Nigh

Arc 1, Chapter 26 -- The end is Nigh

“…some structural damage to the foundation and sewer pre-treatment, and the machine room’s all shot to hell. The HVAC motors, fans, and thermal pumps are all shot to hell. And the same for the backup generators. Some scattered damage to effects in the rooms, but the biggest cost will be the cleaning bill. Overall, I’d say you got off lightly.”

“Lightly? That’s still near a billion credits! At least the insurance will cover it.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“What?”

“PrudInsco said they won’t pay.”

“I’ve got full coverage!”

“Uh, do you recall that last quarter you dropped the Samurai Damage rider? I hope you have some deep pockets, otherwise, I have an uncle that can float you a loan.“

--Soon to be conversation at a building nearby.

***

As we fired on the Anti’s bearing down on us, I debated with myself when to trigger the floor.

Part of me wanted to see them bowling down the hallway, only to lose control and drop into the pit. On the other hand, there might be a morale advantage to literally pulling the rug out from under them at the last minute.

If we were fighting humans, letting them get to the barricade before pulling the surprise would devastate the confidence of any that remained. But whether the Anti’s even had morale was a heavily debated question. They never showed signs of worry or shock. And their self-preservation instincts were secondary to the needs of the hive. The popular opinion was that they only had two drives: kill and defend the hive. On the other hand, if there was any advantage in making it a surprise, I couldn’t afford to give that up.

Then a chill ran up my spine at a thought. What if there were supports under the floor, or we cut through a structural member? We could end up with the building coming down on us, or the floor might not drop at all. I froze in a moment of indecision—to risk the cut? Or try to tough it out?

I was about to ask Corie about the building’s structural members when the decision was taken from me. After a minute of nothing but M-3s, a bulky M-6 turned the corner and started to run towards us, head down. “Pulling the rug,” I yelled, and I triggered the Wallcutter even before conscious thought had a reason. It finally registered why: the hasty defenses would never survive the hit from such a heavy monster. Live or dead, the mass alone would shatter the office furniture and our defenses along with it, opening up the way for the rest of the horde.

Bullets of various calibers sparked on the thick head armor. I fired multiple bursts, guiding the flechettes in an elegant curve from down and out to up and in, bypassing the head for the belly. It continued to gain speed, and after six paces, I knew there was no stopping it. At best, even if we killed it, it would roll and slow down after leaving the grease patch.

The cutter fluid hissed and sparked, and a deep groove showed the edges of the killing zone. We continued to fire. I changed to the right front leg on the slim chance that if it stumbled, it might twist and get jammed against the walls. The light flechettes only sparked off the tough hide. They lacked the momentum to break through.

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It crossed the invisible line of traction, and its legs flew out in all directions. The juggernaut slid, unstoppable, towards the walls of our little fort. It flew out of the hallway into our encircled killing ground, its momentum unslowed. With a loud clang, the weakened floor buckled and dropped, and with it, the Model Six plummeted a story and a half.

I didn’t know if it survived the fall, and frankly, I didn’t care. My focus was on the wave of Anti’s that rushed behind the tank. Something about the long, open hallway triggered a frenzy among the aliens. They all charged towards us, only to lose control and fly into the depths. The Threes were particularly prone to the frenzy, and they charged at full steam like they were in some contest to see which could go the farthest out while they fell into the depths.

A couple M-3s tried to leap up from below, only to fall back down. We’d gotten lucky with the floor below being taller than average. Despite having a seemingly perfect defense, we continued to fire on them and kill as many as we could. Anti’s were better off dead, after all, but everyone knew we had won.

The only things that could reach us now were the wall-climbing M-4 and the ranged attacks of the M-5c. I kept a special eye out for the ranged Anti’s. As they showed, I punished them ruthlessly to make sure that they couldn’t launch any quills at us. After a few minutes, some of the M-4, calmer than the others, or just smarter, pushed to the fore, clinging to the walls and ceilings.

They were easy targets, raised up over the heads of the rushing M-3s, and slower. But we couldn’t keep all of them back. I started to get worried, until the first M-4 reached the area we had greased. It pushed one tentacle beyond the invisible line, then another. As half its body crossed the line, it flailed its tentacles for a second before dropping onto an M-3 sliding by.

Kang smirked at me. “We coated the ceiling,” he yelled over the gunfire, “and even the walls out into this space with the slippery stuff. No Model Four will be able to wall crawl past us. Woops! Unless we let them do that.” He aimed at one that had stabbed the sharp points of the tentacle into the wall and used that to hold onto the slippery walls. But that was even slower going, and it fell to concentrated fire long before it reached the opening.

“All the people are out safe. It’s just the rearguard left. How are you going to get out of there?” Ginny said in the conference.

I honestly didn’t have any ideas. I had wanted to do the same staggered pull-back as before. Get the ex-prisoners out first, followed by Haruka and Kaitlyn, and finally me. But the press of Anti’s were relentless, and the physical defenses paper thin. All it would take was a lucky or enterprising alien, and they could start to get around us. Or something could come up from below. While most of the aliens were flying into the pit, I didn’t trust it to guard our backs while we fled.

Tara came to our rescue. “There’s a gap coming—a period without any of the monsters. If you can kill fast, you should have time to get into the stairway before the next wave reaches the last turn.”

“Sounds like our best bet.” I raised my voice for all in the room to hear. “Everyone! Our escape awaits, but we have to kill faster.” Everyone laughed. I didn’t think anyone had been holding back and was doing their best to eliminate the horde. Everyone except me. I had been holding back to ensure that I was free to kill M-5cs or fill gaps. I kicked the Roomsweeper into full auto and started guiding rounds for multiple kills per round. Soon, the hallway became a true slaughterhouse. The aliens died by threes and fours per flechette. Their packed conditions let me line up multiple kills per round, and soon they were beaten back to the end of our sight. Tara gave the all-clear, and we all hurried away.

As I climbed the final stairs under the silent guard of Jonnie’s turrets, I realized I was tired. Not physically tired and in need of sleep, I could still go on for hours. But mentally tired. It drained my will to do anything related to the ex-prisoners and killing antithesis. I was done with this building and wanted to move on to something different. I paused to send a text message to Jonnie:

> Me: We’re out, and the civilians are safely past your turrets.

> Jonnie: Great.

> Me: How long until you can close the hive and I can go home?

> J: Maybe another hour or so? Your area is the relief valve. It’s getting the majority of the antithesis.

> J: I’m at the hive now and about to destroy it. It should take about an hour for the last waves to push outward, unless they come back to try for revenge.

> J: Once that last wave is done, we can leave it to the cleanup crew and PMCs.