Chapter Six - I Was Right

“Antithesis specialization is a tricky business. As a whole, a hive moves exactly as you would expect a plant to: branches spread out and recede in waves around a central core, using time and brute force to push through obstacles. While it’s easy to misinterpret this information as the Antithesis being nothing more than ‘stupid plants’, that would be a fatal mistake. Individually, Models show great intelligence within their specialization, making them much deadlier than the group data would suggest. Model Threes, for instance, make up the bulk of attacking forces at the beginning of most incursions, but they are more than just dumb hunter-killers—they will dynamically allocate their pack members to flank defensive positions, and higher-number Models will use them to flush their prey out of cover.”

—Antithesis expert on midnight talk show, 2034

***

I glanced to my left as I approached the gun cabinet. My eye-gear came with an ever-present tab in my vision that I could simply stare at to activate the rest of its functions—mostly just allowing me to watch videos or scroll social media online, but I’d also downloaded an aftermarket augmented reality package that was a lot of fun. However, now there was a second tab next to the first. A fancy pop-up appeared in the corner of my vision when I looked at it, unobtrusively announcing my current points total. Lynata must’ve gotten bored while we were talking.

Still, it told me all I needed to know: I’d gone negative during the fight with that Model Four, spending more points on fixing myself than I’d gained. I couldn’t keep letting that happen. To that end, I also wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before I could afford a gun, so I made sure to grab plenty of ammo. I lamented not wearing a belt to work today, since that meant I couldn’t use any of the handy magazine clip-on holders in the locker. Instead, I stuffed two magazines in each of my too-small pockets, feeling them dig into my thighs in a way that made it slightly difficult to move. Despite the glut of ammo boxes, these were the only magazines in the locker; Harry would have to do with just the one already in his pistol, but he assured me that I would need the extra ones more than he did. That didn’t help my growing anxiety about going back out.

I stepped up to the door and grabbed the handle, but didn’t pull it open just yet. I stared out through the smudged, scratched window, mouth suddenly dry as I remembered the baleful stare of that bigger Antithesis. After a few more seconds of hesitation, I backed away and grabbed another can of pop from the mini fridge, chugging it like my life depended on it. It wasn’t alcohol, but it would have to do for steadying my nerves.

I went back to the door and stared some more, still psyching myself up. I probably would’ve stood there for another hour if Harry hadn’t turned up the audio on the monitor, allowing me to hear Frank cussing out the aliens on the other end. So I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and heaved open the reinforced door before I could change my mind.

There were no xenos waiting to jump me on the other side—although my heart still raced as I stepped out. Logically, Harry would have told me if there were any Antithesis nearby, but that didn’t stop me from being paranoid. I took another deep breath and moved away from the security office, stopping only as I realized a flaw with my current plan.

“Hey, uh…” I started, testing out my connection with the LAN, “Harry? Where’s the restroom?”

My last-generation aug-gear gave his voice a tinny, artificial quality as he chuckled. “It’s down the right side, with a big ‘ol sign so you can’t miss it. Be careful, though; we only have one camera by the sinks, but none in the stalls, so you’ll have to make sure those’re clear before you go.”

“Thanks.” Funnily enough, they never mentioned bathroom breaks in any of the movies. Really cramps the style of the heroic charge.

It didn’t take long to make sure all of the stalls were empty, but one last problem occurred to me right before I unzipped. I felt a bit of heat on my face after I realized it.

You know, I receive real-time updates for all of your biometric information, so I have the exact millisecond that you registered that. How entertaining!

“So… You see everything I can through my aug-gear?”

I can! I am surprised that you are so embarrassed, however—were you not aware of the amount of malware already on your augmentation equipment? I have deleted all of it since I “moved in”, of course, but I am afraid that the metaphorical ship has already sailed as far as your privacy is concerned.

Well, that was concerning. And embarrassing. But probably not surprising. I’m not sure that anyone has truly been surveillance-free since the turn of the century, but there’s a bit of a difference between “a corporation has the metadata on how long you take a shower” and “there are a specific number of people who know exactly who you are and what you looked up when you were alone last Saturday night”. And now one of those people literally lived rent-free inside my head.

“Is it too late to just let the Antithesis eat me?”

I would request that you do not let yourself get eaten. If it helps, AI do not share any of the stigma nor shame over witnessing such an act. I find it rather interesting, as a matter of fact—like watching a nature documentary.

“… Nope, that doesn’t help at all.” I responded. “If anything, now I wanna go even less. That’s really weird, Lynata.”

Probably! A significant number of my compatriots are disgusted by biological processes, and are thus repulsed by such acts. However, I have always been captivated by the myriad ways that evolved biology has adapted to deal with the same set of problems across different worlds. There are over two thousand documented methods of biological waste disposal among Protectorate-registered species.

“Well that’s just peachy. I hate everything about this conversation.”

You started it.

***

The second floor was still clear of aliens after I finished up my business. It was actually pretty nice to walk around a store without having to deal with a bunch of noisy shoppers constantly getting in my way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the market for toys or furniture at the moment.

I leaned over the railing that led to the first floor, head on a swivel for any movement. “Anything down there?” I whispered.

“Nothing immediately near you.” Harry responded. “Two Model Threes are skulking around the back of the first floor, but the rest are at the front. Almost looks like they’re waiting us out.”

“If you wish, I could assist you in locating the Antithesis more efficiently.”

“Woah, that’s funky,” Harry stated. “Is that your AI?”

It took me a second to register that Lynata’s voice had come from the LAN call, sounding slightly different than when she spoke directly into my brain. “Uh, yeah. Harry, meet Lynata. What do you mean, Lynata?”

“Your ocular implants possess an augmented reality functionality—together with the established camera view, I can utilize that to give you real-time imaging of all Antithesis in your field of vision.”

“Oh,” I replied, “yeah, do that. Please.”

“It is done. I have also initiated an additional datastream, through which Mister Markus will be able to observe your progress through your augmentations.”

“He can see whatever I can?” I asked, glancing around to watch as wireframe representations of Antithesis appeared in my vision, revealing where they were through the walls. “Didn’t we just talk about that?”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“Listen, kid,” Harry answered first, “that’s a valuable way to gather intelligence. I can do a lot more if I can see exactly what you’re looking at, instead of just through cameras.” He paused as I focused on a clump of Model Threes hidden past several layers of counters and clothes racks. “Wow. Darn, I wish we had something like this when I was in the Guard.”

“Similar capabilities are indeed available to current militaries and private military contractors, although their sensor fusion functions are facilitated by mobile drones. There are several thousand catalogs that can supply you with the same ability, should you wish.”

“Neato, more things I can’t afford.” I replied flatly.

“For now. However, you’ll likely be able to purchase them in the very near future. Perhaps by eliminating that group of Antithesis in front of you?”

Harry piped up. “She’s right. I recommend heading to the back while you have the chance; those two Threes just split up, so you can hit ‘em one at a time.”

I furrowed my brow. “So I’ll be in the back of the store, with nowhere else to go, when the rest hear the gunshots and come running?”

“Huh, you might be the first Samurai I’ve ever heard complain about the points running to them.”

“Bite me.”

Harry just laughed as I continued to grumble. But I had to start somewhere, and this suggestion was probably better than charging directly into the big group of Antithesis at the front of the store. So I grudgingly stomped towards the Men’s Wear department, only belatedly realizing that maybe stomping wasn’t the best way to sneak up on some aliens.

I noticed the nearest Model Three perk up behind a rack of distressed cargo pants, staring in my direction. I froze on the spot, not even breathing as it started padding towards me. I shuffled behind a shelf of fancy shoes—momentarily distracted by their ridiculous price tag—before I refocused on the threat ahead.

The Antithesis noticed me immediately when it turned the corner, not even pausing before it silently charged at me. I brought my newly acquired pistol to bear, bracing it against the side of the faux-wood shelf before pulling the trigger.

There was a faint click, followed by my hand flinching down in anticipation of the recoil, but nothing else happened. My brain short-circuited for a split-second, having completely expected the weapon to fire. It took me a second to register that I’d never chambered a round after inserting the magazine. I swore and racked the pistol’s slide, but that gave the Model Three time to pounce.

It slammed into me, paws locked over my shoulders as I fell backwards. I saw stars as my head smacked into the (inadequately carpeted) ground. I could barely see the alien through them, but I could smell its fetid breath as it lunged for my neck. However, I’d maintained a steady grip on my gun this time. I pulled the trigger again, and this time there was a loud bang accompanying the action. The air was driven from my lungs as the slide rammed into my solar plexus, and I felt hot blood pour onto my hands from the hole I’d just created. Apparently I hit something vital, as the back half of the Model Three slumped on top of me, and it let out something that sounded like a whispered whine.

I tried to fire a second time, but the gun had apparently jammed from being sandwiched between me and the Antithesis. Before the Model Three could recover, I pushed it off and attempted to rack the slide again—taking a few attempts before my grip stopped slipping from all of the blood. The alien bared its teeth and attempted to snap at my ankle, dragging itself forward as I used my elbows to pull myself away. There was a flash of brass as I finally unjammed the weapon, followed by a much brighter flash as I shot the Model Three in the face. It immediately dropped, deader than a two-day-old meme.

“That stirred up the hornets’ nest, kid,” Harry’s voice was still clear to me, despite the ringing in my ears, as it came through my aug-gear’s connection. “You have some time before the ones at the front make it over, but you need to take care of that other one back there now.”

Right, the second Model Three. I spotted it crashing through a line of coat racks, making a beeline in my direction. I committed to getting the upper hand this time, firing through a plywood belt stand to nail it in the side before it could see me. The alien flinched as the bullet hit, causing it to tumble slightly as it came around the corner. I hopped around the belt stand, keeping it between us as I fired again and again. The thin material was no match for the high-velocity hollow-points, which caused thick splinters to spray out the other side as I emptied the magazine into the Model Three behind it.

I slotted in a second magazine before turning the corner, but I didn’t need it—the xeno was swiss cheese.

“Benjamin, I recommend immediate relocation. Even without the sound of gunshots, a majority of Antithesis models release pheromones upon death that will draw in more of their kind.”

“Get a move on, kid,” Harry joined in. “You have five chasers approaching from the front.”

They didn’t need to tell me twice. I booked it, trying to make sure that I was far away by the time the rest of the Model Threes reached their dead friends. Even half-deaf, I could tell that I was making too much noise in the eerily quiet store, so I took a second to kick off my blood-drenched shoes and tried to only run on the carpeted sections of the floor.

“Watch out, they split off; you have two flanking from either side.”

Harry’s warning had me glancing over my shoulder. Sure enough, the aliens had split into three groups, with a pair circling around in my direction. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were faster than me—I wasn’t going to get away, so I had to find a place to make a stand instead.

I found just such a place next to the dressing rooms: a few low-lying couches and a coffee table in a wide-open space, with long aisles in every direction giving me clear sight-lines. I was well-acquainted with the type of couch here; the same brand bought by every department store in Montana, which my last girlfriend had taught me how to camp on with the amount of shopping she did. The purposefully unpleasant, corporate-designed backrest was too low to be comfortable when sitting, but would be the perfect height for me to brace my pistol against when crouching behind it.

The wireframe tracking let me know exactly when the Antithesis were going to come around the corner, so I was able to fire a moment earlier. The braced shot was dead-on, smacking the first Model Three in the chest as it turned into the lane. The strike didn’t kill it, however, and it barely slowed as it changed its heading to speed towards me. Its buddy came around the bend half a second later, following its charge.

I started to freeze up with panic as the two xenos raced closer, but I forced that down with a deep breath. Instead of emptying my magazine in a panic, I steadily squeezed the trigger. The second bullet struck the first Model Three in its paw, sending it tumbling end over end. My third shot put it down for good, as it collapsed without a sound.

That was one threat dealt with. The second one, though, was still getting closer. I shifted and fired, but the Model Three jumped aside at the last moment, causing the bullet to harmlessly whizz past and ricochet off the floor. Now it was too close—I finally panicked, getting two more rounds off (both missing) before the alien jumped straight over the couch and on top of me.

I brought an arm up to ward it off, which the Model Three happily wrapped its teeth around. Mercifully, I fell on top of a discarded shopping bag full of clothes, saving me from another concussion as the Antithesis’s weight forced me to the ground. Less mercifully, its claws dug into my shoulder, tearing out great strips of flesh with each gouge. I screamed, but the sound was lost as I hysterically shoved my pistol under its chin and pulled the trigger. Green blood splashed me as the Model Three instantly went limp, and I slid out from under it.

I retched as I propped myself up on the couch with one arm, spitting out chunks of Antithesis gore. My other arm hung limply by my side, as any movement caused searing pain from the gashes in my shoulder and forearm. It’d been less than an hour since my last life-threatening injury, but the Nano-Regenerative Suite had done a good job of making me forget just how much this had hurt.

Luckily, this wound wasn’t enough to kill me. Although I was starting to feel a little light-headed, which probably wasn’t great. My shirt was starting to look increasingly distressed, too, with more holes than fabric at this point. The tie-dye of green and red blood wasn’t helping matters either. It was really sad, actually—this was one of the only collared shirts I owned. I’d mourn its passing. Maybe even give it a viking funeral to send it off.

Wait, why was I so worried about my shirt? The rest of me didn’t look any better. Besides, there was something else I was supposed to be more worried about. What was that again…?

“Benjamin, I am afraid that your blood loss is becoming critical. Additionally, the remaining Model Threes are closing in on your location. Please purchase medical utilities to assuage your condition. You can apply them on the move.”

“Get moving, kid! You don’t have much time!”

Their combined voices shoved me out of my stupor. “Lynata: Nano me.”

New Purchase: Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite

Points reduced to… 70

A box appeared next to me, perched precariously on the back of the couch. I fumbled to open it, grasping the bulky inhaler within and immediately taking a deep puff. I nearly fell over as the tingling overwhelmed my legs, but I held on to the back of the couch with a growl of frustration. The Antithesis were getting too close for me to waste any more time.

My current plan wasn’t cutting it. I barely survived dealing with two of the Model Threes at a time, yet I could see all three of the remaining ones linking up in a big group and heading in my direction. I needed something better, some way to funnel them…

I felt stupid when I finally realized it. I should’ve thought of this earlier. After making sure that the Antithesis couldn’t see me through the rows of racks and stands, I took off sprinting towards the escalators.

I was right. This sucked.