A Displaced Samurai

The attrition rate of new Vanguard on their first incursion is approximately 20%.

Apparently, even the Protectors sometimes misjudge how much difficulty their recruits can handle on their first mission.

Or maybe they are doing it on purpose. We do not really know their motivations.

-- General Scott, West Point military academy.

With nothing else left to prepare, we set off down the stairwell. Brad, Jenna and me led the group down the building, carefully checking each corner before moving on. A few floors down, we heard movement in the stairwell below us.

You will get the most points if you shoot enemies yourself. If other people kill them with weapons you provided, you will get only a small percentage of the points. This can still add up over time though, perhaps to the point of repaying the weapons.

Good to know. I told Brad and Jenna to let me do the shooting unless we were in danger of being overrun. Ordering John around seemed pointless, he had to watch his steps down the stairs and it took his full attention.

On the way down, I asked Elya questions about herself and the Protectors. I had read quite a bit about them, as I loved Science Fiction and the Protectors were essentially SF in real life. Actually, the market for sci-fi literature had taken quite a beating from their appearance, because who needs fiction if the real thing is right around the corner?

“Elya, you told me about uplifting humanity. Shooting alien invaders is obviously important, but that alone will not improve things long term. So what are the means you offer your Vanguard towards this purpose?”

Most importantly, we share technology through Vanguard who have proven themselves. Through the point system, you can not only buy weaponry, but also blueprints and scientific textbooks. This does not entirely prevent the technology from falling into the wrong hands, but we've found that it does reduce the risk quite a bit. It is rare that a Vanguard hands dangerous technology to persons who would abuse it.

This sounded really exciting. Science had been something I had loved since my childhood, and by shooting enough annoying plants I could earn access to things my professors could only dream of! But where exactly did these near-magical technologies come from?

“Elya, tell me more about the Protectors and their history”

Much historical data has been omitted from my database. What I can tell you is that their species is millions of years old and leads a galactic-wide compact that is older than human history. Their mission is to help other species to grow and eventually reach the galactic stage. But rather than directly interfering, they prefer to work through agents they empower. The Vanguard, such as you.

“And what about yourself? Are you entirely in my head or is this just a sort of thin client I carry in my brain?"

There is no external server I rely on, if you are worried about losing connection. But much of me is behind a dimensional shunting mechanism that allows me to have far more circuitry than would normally fit in your head.

Occasionally a Model 3 peeked out from beyond a corner. I got about a fifty percent hit rate on those with my Hummingbird, the critters were good at ducking behind cover. A few minutes later, I had gone through another two Hummingbirds and nine now very dead Antithesis. Another two had lurked behind a corner, but Brad and Jenna had dispatched them with aplomb.

Targets eliminated by allies: 2 x Model 3

Reward for providing the weapons… 2 points

New balance... 130 points

As we came down from floor 29 to 28, I saw an office door standing ajar. It appeared to lead to an open plan office, with perhaps a dozen cubicles. The light was on and slurping sounds came from inside. In the reflection from the windows I could see a few unmoving bodies and a fat ugly worm that was eating one of them. An unpleasant stink wafted over from the office.

The worm is a Model Eight. An unaggressive harvest and transport unit for biomass. It will not attack you, even when provoked.

I also saw at least three Model Threes. One of them was ambling past the door, then it turned around so it was sticking its ass out towards me. I lifted the Hummingbird. As soon as the reticle turned red, I let the missiles fly. The rear half of the Three was ripped open and it lost control of its hind legs. Never had it been more fun to rip someone a second asshole.

Its buddies did not appreciate the proctological intervention. Five of them came boiling out of the office. I got two of them with the last two shots in my Hummingbird, but before I had the replacement in hand, the Death’s Hand on John’s chair opened fire. Within seconds, the remaining three Antithesis flopped to the ground. I felt a touch of annoyance at missing out on most of the points. At least I got three because I had provided the weapon.

Brad and Jenna checked out the remaining corners of the floor and came up empty, while I peeked into the office with the dead office drones. Searching the office, I found a total of three dead people but no more Antithesis.

That left the worm. I refused to let this disgusting thing live. But before I could start wasting my Hummingbird ammo, John came up to the door. That gave him and his belly turret line of sight to the worm. I managed to cover my ears before the Death’s Hand started peppering the Model Eight with bullets. It took almost two magazines until the ugly thing stopped twitching. A disgusting slime seeped from the bullet holes. It stank like a public toilet combined with a pile of rotting meat, and I barely managed to keep my dinner down.

Some other people in our refugee trek gagged from the stench and one girl actually lost her dinner. Otherwise we got past the floor without further incident. Things were suspiciously quiet on the next six floors. But I expected it would eventually get loud again. I asked Elya: “Do you have some hearing protection to offer? Not too expensive, we are on a budget.”

There are one-time use ear plugs in the general class 0 catalog, no unlocking required. These are better than their human-made equivalents in that their dampening factor increases with sound levels. They will, however, soon accumulate dust and grease and become clogged. A box of ten will cost you one point.

“Yes please. Also, is there a way I can talk to you without everyone listening in?”

By “speaking” without pushing air through your vocal chords.

While we were talking, a small plastic box arrived at my feet. I fumbled with it one-handed until I got it open. A bunch of small fluffy cylinders that looked like cigarette filters were inside. I stuffed one into each ear. The sound from the group was slightly muffled, but still easy to hear. I gave the rest to some other people.

Another floor down, we heard activity again. We were on floor 22, and at 20 the layout of the tower changed. It got wider, and the stairwell stopped at this level. In the center lay the shattered remains of the Three I had kicked over the balustrade an eternity ago.

I asked Alan for directions again, as he seemed to know the building well. “There are two other stairwells that lead further down, one to each side of the floor” he said.

“Which one will get us closest to the shelter entrance? I’d like to avoid crossing the lobby in the open.”

“The one on the east. It will take us right to the basement with the shelter.”