Chapter Seventeen - Local Sorts of Problems

"Do you want to die like a coward, or do you want to die with a gun in your hands, god damnit?!"

--Winner of the New Militia of New Montreat under-16 recruitment poster contest, 2041

***

"Go on, bossman, what's the meat like?" I asked.

The general gave me a flat look, then gestured to the map. Saint-Jérome was laid out on it, the bigger buildings sticking out a little from the surface. Most of the city was painted in a dull orangey-green, with clearer greens around a blob to the south and along the northern wall.

"We've set up logistical locations here and here," he said. Two spots of blue appeared, one at the south of the city, the other next to highway 117. It looked like it was a few dozen metres away from where we were right now. "And there's a logistical route from the south to the north using the highway. It's above ground and easy to secure. Patrols are working along that route to keep it clear. So far we have no issues." A thin cyan line linked the southern logistics dump and the northern one.

I nodded along. I wasn't so stupid as to think that logistics weren't important. "How are we doing for supplies?" I asked.

"We have enough to keep all of the troops here garrisoned for three days," Thibodeau said. The general tapped something in mid-air, probably something on his augs, and a spreadsheet appeared on my own augs. Probably vetted by Myalis. "Our food and medical supplies are being stretched having to accommodate the local militia, but otherwise things are holding steady and within expected ranges."

"The militia?" Gomorrah asked.

General Thibodeau's lips drew into a thin line. "According to the Constitutional Act of 2037, all corporate and civilian organisations have the legal right to military aid in the formation of a militia. There are rules and stipulations that complicate such formations, of course, but Saint-Jérome definitely fits within the parameters for the creation of a temporary militia. Which means we owe them assistance."

"Are we talking about a serious militia, or just people trying to get free food?" I asked.

"Both," he said, sounding a little waspish.

"Sir, if I may?" Juno asked before turning to address us. "The militia here are civilians, police officers, security personnel, some retired army and PMC. They've formed a small guard contingency. Most of them are... what do we call military LARPers?"

"Oh," I said. Dudes in tacticool, got it. "Well, if they keep people somewhat safe, I guess there's no harm?"

Juno shrugged. "They can shore up locations of low importance for us at the cost of being inefficient and annoying to handle."

"Moving on," the general said. "We've managed to clear the obvious antithesis threats throughout the city thanks to your push earlier today. Now we're doing a two-part quick sweep."

I glanced at the others. Hedgehog was the only one who seemed to know what that meant. "What's that?" I asked. Fuck it, I'd play the role of group idiot then. I was kind of suited for it.

The general didn't seem to mind. "We're currently sweeping the city street-by-street and looking into every easily-accessible building. The Tenth Engineer corp is inspecting the city infrastructure as well. This sweep is meant to be fast. If aliens are noticed, an appropriate amount of force is called in to deal with them."

"Have you found any?" Gomorrah asked.

"One in four buildings has an alien presence," he confirmed. The map lit up with hundreds of red dots, most of them between the middle of the city and the southern end. "The sweep has only reached the centre of the city so far. Tagged buildings will be part of the second phase of the quick sweep, which involves sending in armed cleaning crews to verify that there are no spreading aliens."

"Corpse clean up?" I asked.

Tinwhistled leaned forwards a little. "We've commandeered the city's garbage removal trucks, some of their loaders, and every pickup we can get our hands on that has a decent bed-size. We're taking the bodies here." She gestured and a yellow circle appeared on the south side of the city, just outside the walls. "Wind should carry the stink away from the populated parts of the city, so we should be alright."

"If you need any assistance with the incineration process, let me know," Gomorrah volunteered.

Tinwhistle nodded. "Alright. Shouldn't be an issue, we've been doing this since before you were born with few issues."

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"Few?" Gomorrah asked.

Tinwhistle grinned. "Had a year where the antithesis we picked up after this one incursion were fire-proof."

"Really?" Gomorrah asked.

"Well, more fire-proof than usual. Had to pump up the heat a lot. Incursion started in an automated metal foundry. Temps in there were high as hell. My theory's that they evolved to endure the heat better or something."

Likely just variation models. If you want a better explanation, just let me know.

I nodded, and Myalis seemed to catch on.

The Antithesis models that you're used to seeing are all variants. Technically Variant-Earth. They are adapted to a moderately high oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere with sunlight within the range typically found on Earth's surface. They are adapted to thrive on Earth. The actual, normal variant of the Antithesis are designed for lower-oxygen environments. These are, overall, very minor adaptations that do little to change the makeup or appearance of the average Antithesis model. A hive that starts in an environment with an elevated temperature will, of course, make some slight modifications to itself and its progeny to better survive in that environment.

That was a bit more of a lecture than I'd planned on getting. The general was nattering on about something to do with logistics with Gomorrah chiming in, so at least Myalis' rant was well-timed.

Actually, it had been a while since she last went on a long explanatory rant about something, so maybe she was just... rant-deprived or something?

That information wasn't meant to make you feel smug.

I switched the mic in my helmet off so that no one else would hear us. "Calm your byte-sized tits, I'm just finding your way of acting funny."

Yes, mocking me is certainly a good move which will have no reprisals or poor consequences.

I rolled my eyes. She was such a drama queen. If she really wanted to mess my day up, she'd do it, not just threaten it.

"Saint-Jérome should be cleared out of any lingering Antithesis within the next two days," the general said.

"That's good," I said. "So the army will hold here for that long?"

"With... other news coming from the Martian front being what it is, yes. It was determined that staying relatively close to New Montreal would be for the best," he said.

"Is that news classified still?" Gomorrah asked.

It earned her a look of concern from just about everyone in the room, excluding the Brigadier General himself. "Yes, it is. It's leaked, of course, but we're keeping a lid on it for now. We need to prepare a reaction to the news that'll keep everyone's minds in the game."

"Are we expecting some mass panic?" I asked.

"No. The Family and the government are both preparing things to quell any sort of panic. A new Family-endorsed Samurai-made gacha game will be launching in three days, there's a few major sporting events coming up, and I've heard through the grape-vine that some political scandals have been cooked up. The entertainment corps are all-in on the big distraction."

I blinked. "Holy fuck, are we the bad guys?"

Gomorrah looked at me, then shook her head. "No. We're doing this for everyone's own good. It's different."

"Actually, there is one more thing that might be of interest to you," the general said. "We've noticed a small town nearby, Saint-Colomban. The town should have been overrun, but the antithesis have met resistance. It's not corporate, from what we can tell."

"A samurai?" I asked.

"Possibly. We'll be sending someone to meet with them tomorrow morning. With Saint-Jérome retaken, the local antithesis population has been drastically reduced, there are fewer of them pushing towards the town. They'll keep until morning."

I frowned. "Wouldn't sooner be better?" There could be a newbie bleeding out over there, and this moron wanted to sit on his thumb instead of checking things out.

"That's the soonest we can get a negotiation team ready," he replied.

"Fuck that," I said. "Gom, we're taking a detour on the way back home, alright?"

"I suppose. And please don't shorten my name to Gom," Gomorrah said.

I nodded and pretended like I wouldn't forget that. The meeting was winding down anyway, so I gave the bunch of them a fake salute then stomped my way out of the tent.

I hadn't noticed it, but the sun was set now. "Dammit, I'm going to be late for supper."

***