Chapter Fifty-Eight – Hot Stuff

Chapter Fifty-Eight – Hot Stuff

“You want the best? There’s nothing humanity can make that the Protector’s can’t make, but better. Cars? They’ve got, but they fly. Books? They have electronic books which are written on the spot by an AI. You want renewable energy? Spaceflight? Secure electronics?

I’m just happy that I’ll get to see some real life catgirls before I die.”

— Melon Usk, 2028

***

Monroe’s driving was nothing like Speedy’s. For one thing, he didn’t wait until the last second to move out of the way of every obstacle in our path, for another, he wasn’t driving with the pedal stuck to the floor.

“Myalis, can you tell me anything about this next shelter?” I asked.

Certainly. There are public records available for this one. It was created by the Blue Shade and Tennison Foundation for Canada. The main shelter was funded by a Samurai, though it doesn’t seem to have any non-human components in its construction. It is technically a municipal shelter, though the foundation oversees supplying it.

I nodded. “Cool, what about its location and such?”

It’s built over two floors, one on ground level, the other beneath. There is a building above it, a tenement house also run by the foundation. The shelter has a standard capacity of one thousand, but can hold twice that many for a short duration. With standing room, it can hold four thousand average humans for no more than six hours.

“Six hours?” I asked.

Monroe glanced my way. To him the conversation had to sound entirely disjointed.

The shelter has limited supplies of breathable air and its recycling system can only do so much before the carbon dioxide levels in the shelter begin to reach dangerous levels. Some people would die from what is essentially asphyxiation. After a sufficient number have died, the system would most likely catch up.

“Well… that’s pretty fucking nightmarish,” I said. Better than turning into a zombie though.

The main entrance is the least fortified part of the shelter. It opens into a killbox with fixed gun emplacements designed to hold out against a decent number of antithesis of lower ranks. There are other passive systems in place, such as floor-to-ceiling bars that prevent large models from entering the shelter.

I nodded. “Got it.” That sounded simple enough. If the shelter was meant to be used properly, then it probably had an easy way to exit too. Access from the street to the shelter would probably be easy too.

“Ma’am?” Monroe asked.

“How many of your guys would you need to keep the truck and the two cars safe while also bringing a few other vans closer?”

“More men than I have,” he said.

I chewed on my lower lip. “How are you in terms of weaponry?”

“We only have what we’re equipped with and the roof guns. SOP when going with a Samurai is to leave all extra non-mission-critical equipment behind. Ammunition-wise… Squad, ammo check.”

I waited as the soldiers in the back seat and presumably in the other car checked over their gear.

“We’re down to about one extra magazine each, not counting what we’ve got loaded.”

I pinched my nose. “I presume that’s not a lot?”

“It’s… not, no.”

I nodded, then reached over and yoinked a magazine from its slot around his waist. I weighed the box by tossing it up and down. “Myalis, how much does one of these cost?”

About one point. They’re standard rounds in a tin box. Nothing overly complex. They’re sufficient for Models in the single digits.

I tapped the side of the gun a few times. “Yeah, that won’t do,” I muttered. “Monroe, what’re you supposed to do when with a Samurai?”

“The procedures are pretty simple, ma’am. Never lie. Never omit any crucial information. Do as the Samurai asks unless it puts you in immediate danger. Try to collect all discarded weaponry and equipment left by the Samurai. And, ah, the actual procedures are quite long, but that’s the gist of it.”

I rolled my eyes and placed the magazine in the centre console. “Myalis, how many points do I have?”

One thousand two hundred and ninety three. Do you want to buy something?

“These guys will need guns. Something, uh, Trench Maker-y in price. Rifles, I guess.”

Kinetic, Energy, Direct Projection, Projectile, Esoteric? How would you like them to deliver death?

I snorted. “Got anything that lights stuff on fire?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

There are plenty of fire-based weapons. Though they tend to be prone to friendly-fire accidents. Perhaps Class I Plasma Casting Weaponry. The catalogue would cost you one hundred points.