Being a Vanguard is hard. About a quarter of all Samurai die before they can even talk to their AI. Their injuries are too great, or they just can’t muster the will to move, or even doubt their AI too long. Then another twenty percent don’t survive their next encounter with the Antithesis. By the end of the first day, more than half of those chosen will have passed away.
Really, it’s a wonder that more don’t fall away. They’re born in desperate situations, often in a moment of sacrifice, and rarely have any experience with combat. They might get by on cleverness or dumb luck to start, but eventually the odds will catch up to them before they get enough points to make up for their faults.
It’s no wonder that so many vanguards don’t actively hunt antithesis, or unlock even a Second-tier catalog.
--Nymicor, AI for Samurai Bugeyes, 2034
***
Arc 2, Echoes of the Moment
As I turned back to the storefront, my shoulders slumped. I was torn between a tired wish to be done and a duty to stay until the last. I’d made a promise to stay, and I also wanted to be sure that the aliens stayed contained and didn’t threaten everyone again. Kaitlyn, Tara, and Ginny, along with all the kidnapping victims, were out. But it looked like it would take a while to get everyone organized, examined, and shipped out, so I’d have to stay and make sure they were safe until then.
Anandia, the reporter with whom I’d just completed my first-ever interview, caught up with me and fell in step. “Thank you for the interview. I only had a small time slot available, and your PR manager said you were heading back into the danger zone?”
I didn’t have to look far to find my self-appointed PR manager, and I sent Kaitlyn a slight glare as we walked by. As for the question, I didn’t trust that the interview really was over, so I hid behind the facts. “The hive is being closed now, but there should be a final wave or two coming this way.”
“Are you going to go down and fight them again?” As she asked, we walked in through the front door of the store.
“Nope. I’m feeling particularly lazy right now. I’m going to sit there,” I pointed to the bottom of the stairs we had reached, “and let them come to me. Jonnie says they should be trying to make a breakout here soon.” I checked that my earplugs were still in place. “You might want some ear protection.”
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed that the reporter had not followed me down. The turrets sounded off with their annoying polytonic noise at my approach. Now that I had the hearing suppression from my helmet, it was easier to put up with, so I settled on the top step and waited for the Anti’s to arrive.
“Tara?” I subvocalized in the conference channel. “Is the lure drone still working?”
“Yes. Jerry is a couple meters to the left of you.”
“Do you think you can start luring Anti’s over here? I might as well start the cleanup now.”
“Sure. There’s a group down the stairs and about twenty meters away. Expect them in one minute. The large groups that had been following us have found another way here. They should start coming in ten minutes. I don’t know if it would be faster to lure them in or not.”
“So long as they don’t get lost,” I replied, then settled on the top step of the lowest flight of stairs right where I could see the floor below. The skeletons of racks and naked mannequins sprawled over piles of rags where before there had been an ocean of cloth and elegantly displayed beauty. All flattened by several waves of aliens. A quick glance over my shoulder showed that Anandia had wandered off, leaving behind a single drone to catch some B-roll of me in battle.
When the pack of M-3 came, chasing the drone like cats after a laser dot, I slew them in lots. Soon the big waves came, and I concentrated on the larger beasts. I was only here to gather more points and because I had promised to stay. An M-5c gave twice as many points as an M-3, so I concentrated on seeing that those died first, followed by the Fours and Sixes. I’d shoot the occasional M-3, but only if none of the bigger models were in sight.
If they reached the bottom of the stair, I pulled back and let the turrets soften them up. That made for easy points, but even with my longer reach, the turrets killed more than I did. Before long, the waves of Anti’s died out, and even the drones couldn’t find any.
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When Jonnie Be Good came by, I knew that my duty was finally complete and I could go home. Jonnie was still dressed as elegantly, his silk shirt and pants clean and pressed, as if he’d stepped out to go to a club. He stood beside a shorter person in such heavy armor that I couldn’t decide on their gender, and the short hair and androgynous facial structure didn’t help.
“The bedraggled hero returns,” Jonnie said as I walked up. I looked down and saw what he meant. My clothes were stained with blood, alien guts, and whatever you called the stew that was the result of the flesh-dissolving turrets. Underneath the stains, my pants had enough holes to fit fashion trends older than me, and my shirt wasn’t much better. I truly looked the action hero. “Well, how did you like your first hive?”
I blinked at him, owlishly, for a minute. “Long and tiring. Do I need to report in or something before heading out?”
“No, we don’t have a clock you have to punch out or anything like that. We each do what we think is best, though there are some organizations that try to coordinate our efforts. I’m part of one, and so is TrogNDog here. It’s called the Family.”
“We all want to pitch in and help, but not always in the same way.” TrogNDog had a rough voice in the midranges and spoke with a clipped accent. “It’s not like the army where someone says jump, and you get in the air. It’s more like herding cats and hoping that someone’s hungry today. The Family’s less influential here than in other places since we have fewer people. The real coordinator here is Didir. She’s independent but fair, as far as I know. We’ll get you her contact info.”
“For now, you should head home. You do look done in.” Jonnie said. “I’m just handing off to TrogNDog, and I’ll be going too. Though if you want to fill them in about the cult’s hideout, that might help.”
I told them what I could and even managed to send them maps that Corie had made somehow. I had a vague plan of getting in my car and going home as I stumbled out of the building. About halfway there, the spider drone found me and climbed aboard again. I watched it climb for a second before I remembered that I still had drones to collect.
Sometime in the last hour, the conference call had ended, so I called Tara directly. “Hello.”
“How many drones are left, and where are they?”
“We lost two near the end of the retreat and the one in the cult area. So I have 10 drones. All but two are pulled out and with me. Those last drones are Jerry, who will be here in thirty seconds, and the SpyEye that’s sitting on you. I have one set to watch over us. They all need charging.”
While she spoke, I found where my car had been towed to the side of the road, but no farther. It was undrivable and likely totaled. Even if deploying the airbags hadn’t disabled the ignition, the impact had crumpled the front end and twisted it sideways. I excused myself from the call with Tara, promising we’d figure out something soon, and stared at the remains of my car numbly.
--I’ve filed an insurance claim for you, but the AI is denying the claim. It won’t say why.
--Oooh, now I see why. There’s a nearly hidden clause in the contract. If the vehicle is damaged “in the aid of a Samurai,” the insurance payout is multiplied by ten. That’s probably the work of some Vanguard or another. And now it starts to make sense. The insurance company set the AI to automatically reject any claims that would invoke that clause. Let’s deal with that, shall we? And a leak to the media would be good… meheheah.
--You have us amoral AIs mixed up with you noble Vanguards. We AIs are tasked with ensuring the Vanguards are not evil, for a given definition. Nothing says we AI can’t use evil means to ensure that end.
Ginny walked up to me. “Did you have a way home?”
“Well, I was going to take my car, but…” I gestured at the pile of scrap. “I guess I’ll take the bus.”
“Kaitlyn and I have a rideshare on the way. I invited Tara to stay with me; I don’t know if she has a place of her own. Trimet would never allow her on with the drones. It’s upsized, so there should be space for you too if you want?”
“Yes, I’d like that.” By some miracle, and despite the passenger windows being blown out and the trunk open, most of my things were still there. I gathered my gym bag, ear protection, and a box of spare ammo. The only item missing was my old daily wear glasses.
I thought about them for a bit, self-consciously aware of how bad the upgraded glasses looked. In the end, I felt that the increased data throughput was worth it for now since I could hide inside my helmet’s visor, but I vowed to myself to change them at the first chance. I emptied out the glovebox into the bag, and we walked over to where Kaitlyn and Tara waited with a large suitcase between them.
“What are you going to do with your car?” Ginny asked.
“I know a guy who’s a mechanic at Kenson’s Fine Rides, but I’m not sure if he can fix it. I’ll have someone tow it there tomorrow so he can look at it.”
The thought of not seeing any of the trio again hit me hard, forming a hollowness in my stomach. I was glad for any excuse to stay with them longer. Somewhere down in the pits of that building, I’d gotten attached to them, and I looked for any reason to continue the relationship. At the minimum, I wanted to be sure they landed on their feet, but maybe we could stay in touch beyond that. I wondered if Ginny’s invitation to their rideshare was her way of also delaying the goodbyes.
While we waited, I exchanged contact info with them, for once having a use for the social media part of the ritual. I also sent a quick text to Barry, my manager from work, letting him know that I was fine, on my way home, and that I’d talk with him the next day.