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Arc 3, Chapter 10 -- First Contact

  Throw me to the wolves, and I'll come back heavily armed.

  --Commonly used proverb in Samurai Forums, 2040s

  ***

  I opened up the feed of the Albatross that circled overhead. A small river, the Chehalis, cut its way between the trees, under a bridge, and then over some rocks. We had a few drones closer in, but not many. Most were focused on scouring the dense forests to our back and sides.

  In the command chat, each squad and platoon reported ready. “Any update on when they’ll be here?” Carlson asked.

  “We just had a sighting. Our best guess is about two minutes.” I said.

  “We’re still working on a count,” One of the decurions expanded on my report. “This grass and undergrowth is giving even Xenovir’s drones fits. We’re estimating around eight models in the teens, probably M-12 and M-14; sixty-some around the size of an M-5 or M-6; and four hundred smaller ones. There’s been no sign of aerial models, typical of what we’ve seen for this hive. Most of the small stuff will be the standard mix of Threes and Fours.”

  I found my eyes drooping as the reports rolled in. The heavy exercise of the forced march combined with the sudden stop and wait lulled me towards sleep.

  A shiver ran down my spine, jerking me awake as the reports cut off mid-sentence. The AR data vanished, and I heard Tarkan and the others muttering curses. Adrenaline rushed through me, driving away the drowsiness. I scanned the treeline, looking for the aliens I knew were close.

  

  --You can, but it will only work for a short range due to the frequencies they use. And there can be some damage to the bot that will need fixed when you get home.

  

  The feed from my Dragonflies was still solid, and I watched as five M-3s pushed their heads out over the creek, just as the military channels came back to several confused questions. “I’m doing a short-range piggyback on my gear. That should get around the EMI for this battle. No promises on future ones,” I explained.

  “Perfect timing; the show is about to start. Drop the bridge.” Carlson’s voice cut through the command channel, as calm and cool as the small river in front of us.

  A loud rumble matched the smoke that engulfed the old steel girder bridge. When the breeze blew away the smoke, a pile of twisted girders and asphalt spanned the river where once a bridge had stood.

  The quarry lit up in AR with a dozen colors washing the ground. Several lines also pointed out critical arcs where active defenses or ranges of certain weapons became effective.

  In our private conference, Kaitlyn raised a question: [“Several viewers are asking why they didn’t wait until the aliens were on the bridge to collapse it?”]

  [“The captain’s trying to draw attention away from the ford right beside it. And since it’s slightly to the east, we don’t want them to veer to that side for an easier crossing if we can help it.”] I subvocalized my response. [“Don’t ask me why he didn’t blow it before this, though.”]

  [“He explained that in the command chat a while ago. He didn’t want any Anti’s to hear and break away from the lure to investigate. Since the horde is practically here, it won’t matter if they hear it or not”] Ginny said.

  The brightly colored drone came into the quarry clearing and circled around the quarry for a minute before ending over the left corner, where it dropped the trailing ribbons. [“Lure in place,”] Tara reported as the drone lifted up and over the line of troopers. The hours of constant concentration showed in her weary voice.

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  [“Good job. Take a break and let the EYRIE run patterns for you. I doubt we’ll need more fancy flying during the battle,”] I told her.

  [“Give me a few minutes to get them programmed into Junior,”] she replied.

  [“Junior? Did you name another drone?”] I rolled my eyes, glad that they were hidden behind my visor.

  [“No, that was Teia. We just shortened it.”] Kaitlyn cut in.

  I shook my head before reporting the lure’s deployment in the command channel, in case an officer had a sudden attack of selective blindness.

  A pair of Threes tumbled into the water and floundered a moment before righting themselves and swimming to the far side. Despite the strong current, they crossed it and climbed into the bushes. As if pulling a cork, this soon led to a flood of the lower-numbered models pushing into and past the stream. They trampled the brush and smaller trees underfoot, forming a path.

  “Fire Two,” Carlson commanded. Another rumble, and smoke rose up, rolling down the trees on our side of the river. The trees, some of them topping thirty meters, tipped over and smashed into the ground, falling every which way. Amid the fallen trees lay the crushed bodies of dozens of antithesis. The swarm paused long enough for the trees and dust to settle before rushing towards us again.

  “Martin, give my compliments to your men; that chaos is going to slow them down nicely. And someone remind me to send a note of apology to the Department of Highways for the sins we have and are about to commit.” Not a single tree had fallen over the river, but also no two fell in the same direction, leaving a tangled maze of branches and trunks to slow down the aliens.

  The aliens pushed through the debris and bounded across the field. When they neared the last treeline, I minimized the video feed and scanned the bushes. A flicker of movement heralded their crossing, and I heard Carlson order the last charge blown.

  Smoke raced across the quarry and down the treeline, which erupted in smoke and fire, sending the pines falling away from us. A few brushes caught fire from the included incendiary bombs, but I didn’t waste much attention on burning undergrowth. I focused on the antithesis pouring into the quarry and opened fire.

  The purple arrows that pointed to my desired targets all aimed out of my sightline. For now, I ignored them and selected the heavier models. Since they were still out of effective range of the guided flechettes, I used the upper barrel with the magazine I had the least hope for: the Napalm rounds.

  Three shots in, I could tell that this would not be my favorite. The rounds shattered on impact, even on the softest body parts, and left behind a substance that burned at high temperatures. That would be disabling for a human when the pain and fear of burning would override any will to fight. The antithesis just smoldered on unflinching. Rather than waste the rounds, I ejected the mag and pocketed it. Soon a new magazine of red-tipped rounds nestled in the slot.

  To my left and right, the troopers also opened fire, and their rifles filled the air with short bursts of lead. At the same time, the louder, longer bursts of heavier machine guns broke out, and the bright lines of tracers reached out to the swarming aliens.

  By this time, several of the heavier Model Sixes had pushed through, and the lighter rounds of the troopers sparked off their armor. My small-caliber rounds loaded with High Explosive slipped through the gaps in their armor and left large holes when the round exploded. “Not gonna lie, finally getting to one-shot an M-6 feels good.” I said as I scanned the quarry below.

  Some M-5s pushed out of the tree pile clumped together, and I put my claim on them in CILS. Though it was still full, I swapped to a larger magazine and sent the chambered HE round at a distant M-6.

  --The Hyper Compression rounds are much larger than what you’ve been shooting. You should brace yourself.

  Nodding, I leaned into the rifle more and took aim on the left side of the small group. The trooper’s constant crack-crack of rifle fire was interrupted by occasional bursts of rapid machine gun fire. Then my rifle boomed out and echoed off the distant hillside. As if teleported, I found myself half a meter back from the edge, balancing on the back of my heels, and nearly falling into the brush behind me.

  The fire around me paused as troopers looked on in shock. Tarkan flipped me the bird. “Fucking Samurai, warn us next time!” he said before setting down his rifle to put on hearing protection.

  [“What was that?”] Kaitlyn asked. [“He took out three of the Model Fives!”]

  [“Hyper Compression round,”] Corie answered. [“The twenty-millimeter round is a hyper-compressed mass of shrapnel in a thin containment shell. On impact, the compression is released, sending out shrapnel at high velocity in all directions.”]

  First priority, I stepped up and assessed the damage. The round had shredded the model I hit, and two more were also down, though one still moved. Other aliens out to several meters also showed deep gashes from the shrapnel. I braced firmly and aimed at the other side of the clump. “Here we go!” I warned the troopers nearby and fired again.

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