Chapter Four - How to Stall the End of the World

“Words like ‘Caucasian’ or ‘African American’ became far too loaded and controversial, not to mention inaccurate as time progressed. So, in order to alleviate some of the issues that came from the use of these words, a system was created that properly categorised a person based on ethnicity, origin, and appearance.

It worked similar to the dewey-decimal system that categorised books, with multiple sets of numbers meaning different things. The system could accurately convey a person’s history and ethnicity in a single string of letters and numbers.

This was widely viewed as a terrible idea and was quickly discontinued.”

--Professor Adams, lecture on the Sociological Impact of Titles in the Information Age, 2029

***

Major Hunt pointed to a seat near the middle of the table. There was a little hovering placard in front of it that had my name on it. Well, it said ‘Stray Cat’ which was sort of my name, at least in present company. “That’s your seat,” she said.

“I guess so. Where are you sitting?” I asked.

“Backroom. There’s a feed of this meeting room. It’s where all the less-important people are sitting and listening in,” she said.

“A Major doesn’t rank high enough to participate?” I asked.

“Not here, no,” she said. She smacked me on the shoulder before moving past. “Good luck, samurai. And remember, the first priority is making those xeno burn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I watched her go for a bit, then moved over to my designated seat. It happened to not be too far from Gomorrah’s, so I was able to see her mask and nod as I sat. We were just far enough that conversation aloud would be awkward though.

Gomorrah nodded back, then turned to Franny. “Want to go hang out in the back? I’m sure they’ll make room for you.”

“Better back there than up here,” Franny said. She patted Gomorrah on the shoulder. “I’ll see if they have anything worth eating around here. I’m feeling peckish.”

Gomorrah whispered something back, but I chose not to listen in, that was until she turned back towards me. “Did you handle everything that needed handling?”

“Not even half of it,” I said. “You get your own stuff in order?”

Gomorrah took a deep breath, then let it out as a long suffering sigh. “No. Not everyone took the news as well as I would have liked. Then again, I could hardly expect them to. The nuns are already run ragged taking care of the people we saved from the sewers. We’re going to end up with a lot more people that need saving in the next few weeks.”

“They do a lot of post-incursion stuff, right?”

Gomorrah nodded. “They’re still sending some sisters out to deliver blankets and supplies to people from the last incursion. The timing here is kind of terrible.”

“Huh, yeah, I guess. Anything I can do to help?”

“Kill the aliens fast?”

I chuckled, and a moment later, Gomorrah joined in. “Should have seen that answer coming,” I said. “Hey, change of topic. You know any of the other samurai here?”

Gomorrah gestured to the end of the table. Cause Player was there. His armour had changed. It was still green, though a darker chase, and it looked a lot more streamlined and angular than last time. A bit more scuffed too. The number 117 was stenciled onto his right breastplate, and he seemed to be talking to a bluish hologram hovering over his hand.

“Right,” I said. “Haven’t seen him since Black Bear.”

“It’ll be nice to have him around,” Gomorrah said. “He’s versatile, and I think we might need that.”

I nodded along. There were a few others in the room. One in the corner, lurking in the shadows. He, or at least I figured it was a he from the shoulders and stance, had form-fitting black armour on, with lots of belts and straps across his torso. He had a long polearm hanging over his shoulder too, some high-tech thing that I couldn’t guess the function of.

“I don’t know him,” Gomorrah said as she followed my gaze. “The woman on the ceiling is Grasshopper.”

“Ceiling?” I looked up, and blinked.

There was indeed someone squatting upside down on the ceiling. She wore light brown and beige armour, covered in little spikes. Her helmet had two large black spheres on the front. They looked like comically oversized eyes from below. She turned her head, almost mechanically, and faced me.

Grasshopper raised... lowered a hand, and waved.

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I waved back.

“She’s a ranged specialist,” Gomorrah said. “Been around for a couple of years.”

“Neat,” I said. “Not a celebrity sort?”

Gomorrah shook her head. “She’s known, but she doesn’t run after attention. Mid twenty-thousands on the leaderboards.”

That still placed her way higher than I was on the popularity charts.

“Who’s he?” I asked, pointing to someone not too far away. I wasn’t entirely sure if he was a samurai at all. He had armour made of white plates on, decorated by thin black lines that seemed to almost be painted on. They formed an intricate, almost tribal pattern across the armour. His helmet was on the table, leaving his long brown hair free.

He turned my way and grinned, showing off perfect teeth. “I’m Sam-o-Ray,” he said. “You can ask, I don’t bite.”

“Uh, hey,” I said. “I’m Stray Cat.”

“Pleasure to meet you, little sister!” he said. His voice was the kind that couldn’t be contained, and it boomed out of him with genuine geniality.

“And I’m Gomorrah,” Gomorrah replied. She nodded to him and he smiled right back, unaffected by the frowning mask she wore.

“Ah, I am meeting so many companions today. It’s a good day, despite all the news, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said. I didn’t quite know how to deal with someone so optimistic and happy. Well, no, Lucy could be that way, but I wasn’t going to deal with this guy the way I dealt with her. “So, those patterns on your armour, is that for like, a shield or something?”

He blinked, then tilted his head back and laughed. “No! No no, little Stray Cat. These are my tatau. I have them printed onto my armour as they are on my skin. I would much prefer to be without the armour, but my pride won’t stop a bite, and besides, it’s cold around here.”

“Huh, that’s neat,” I said.

Sam-o-Ray nodded. “I thought so too.”

I was going to ask him a few more questions, just shit to pass the time, when someone cleared their throat. A man was standing at the front of the table, gesturing to others to find their seats. He was a tall fellow, with a well-tailored suit and a crown sitting atop his head.

“Hello everyone,” he said. His voice was transmitted across the room to a few speakers tucked away in the corners. “My name is Jolly Monarch. I’ll be the one directing this meeting.”

Another samurai? He did have a few interesting scars on his face, but his darker skin hid them well. I guessed that the crown was something of a give away.

“We don’t have all that much time, nor do I want this to go on for too long. As of right now, every hour we have has to be used to its utmost, and that means wasting as few as possible. For that reason, we won’t be going over introductions and will begin right away. We’re a few minutes ahead of schedule, but everyone that will be here is here already.”

Jolly Monarch gestured, and a hologram flicked to life above the table. Earth, floating in empty space while rotating in a slow circle. Red dots started to appear on the surface, mostly around that big space that I vaguely recognized as Russia, then spreading out in every direction like a ripple. The last place to be covered in little dots was South America.

“Sometime in the next seventy-two hours, we expect to get hit by approximately three thousand stealth incursions.”

“Fuck,” someone lower down the table said.

Judging by the murmurs from the non-samurai around us, they hadn’t all gotten the memo. I glanced around, taking in a lot of people in suits and more in military-like uniforms. There had to be reps from half a dozen PMCs in the room.

“Our focus,” Jolly Monarch said. “Will be this area.”

The holomap changed to a view of New Montreal from above, as well as a big circle around the city. It extended out maybe a hundred kilometres in diameter.

“The New Montreal area is, in terms of sheer space, minuscule. But it also represents the location where nearly a hundred million people live. Our task is to set up a defensive perimeter around the city to keep it safe while also preparing strike groups that will head out and destroy any hives in this area.”

A second circle appeared, maybe twice the size of the first. As the hologram panned out, it overlapped with some other circles next to other cities to the south, east and west.

“Now that we’re all on the same page,” Jolly Monarch said. It was pretty damned clear that we weren’t, but he seemed eager to plough past that. “Let’s figure out exactly how we can stall the end of the world. Shall we?”

***