Chapter Six – Forbidden Bath Salt

Chapter Six – Forbidden Bath Salt

“A river red beneath the moon,
Carves through the land, a sorrowed tune.
It flows where hope and dreams are slain,
In its wake, only shadows remain.

Red River Armaments.
Violence is Poetry.”

-Ad for the Red Moon auto shotgun, 2041

***

“I suggest violence,” I said. That had a few of the others turning my way, so I shrugged and decided to explain. “Look, if we sit on our thumbs and spin, then we’ll never get anywhere before the aliens gather enough biomass to eventually overwhelm us.”

“Sit on our… oh, I get it,” Princess said. Then her face reddened. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“Do you have to be so crude?” Knight asked.

She didn’t seem to mind so much earlier, when Princess wasn’t around. Was Knight that bothered about the purity of her sister’s mind or something? I could recall a few people that were scandalised about the language we used at the orphanage, but that generally only encouraged us to be even more vulgar.

“Right, point is, if we sit here, we’re gonna get… fricked? No, I’m sorry Princess, I’m not censoring myself, that shit’s fucked.”

“It’s okay, Miss Stray Cat,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone but yourself.”

That earned her a look from a few of the others. Tankette especially seemed a little worried. “Uh-huh,” I said. “So, if we sit here, we die. Or worse, we’ll have to call in reinforcements to bail us out in a few hours, maybe a day if we fight hard enough, right? Myalis, can you give us rough estimates here?”

Certainly. Based on the number of model twenty-twos, I can reach certain conclusions about the size and capabilities of the hive producing those models. These are, of course, very rough. Several factors come into play. The distance from the hives to their advance, the approximate age of the hive, the local available biomass, and the hive’s temperament.

I nodded along. The others did too. Myalis was transmitting live, her voice coming from all of the little speakers in the room at the same time. Somehow it didn’t sound like shit despite the varying quality.

On the lower end of that spectrum, it is entirely possible that a relatively young hive has dedicated all of its production to the birthing of the nine visible model twenty-twos. This would have taken a small hive three to four days, less if the initial models started to produce assistants from the moment of their birth. This scenario is unlikely.

“And the high end?” Gomorrah asked.

On the opposite end of the same spectrum, but weighing for the currently visible number of antithesis in the region, it’s possible that there is a medium-to-large sized hive that has split its production, creating several model twenty-twos in order to expand faster whilst also keeping up the production of a variety of other models. This scenario is also unlikely.

“So, what’s likely, then?” Crackshot asked. He reached under his hat and gave his hair a scratch.

The most likely scenario is something closer to the middle of these two extremes. A moderate-sized hive producing two to three model twenty-twos a day to assist it in expanding while also producing smaller models in order to gather local biomass and protect its main structure.

I nodded along, and started to think of what to say next. Surprisingly, Hedgehog cut in before I could think of anything half-way smart to say. “I know these aliens,” he said. “From experience. They’re not smart. It’s wrong to give them more credit than they are due. Not to say that they’re weak. They’re not, not when there’s enough of them, but they’re also not able to think. They act on instinct. If this hive’s acting this way, then there’s something in its environment that’s pushing that.”

“Myalis mentioned the hive perhaps creating these model twenty-twos to expand further,” Gomorrah said. “What would make a hive want to expand?”

This time, it was Atyacus that replied. He always sounded kinda smarmy to me. “A hive that is growing in an environment that’s not conducive to its growth but which is aware of areas beyond it that are capable of sustaining it will usually attempt to either move itself, grow towards the richer environment, or will dedicate all of its biomass to creating the instruments necessary for a new hive to be born in that better location.”

“Like a dandelion growing between the bricks,” Tankette muttered.

I glanced at the maps on the table. “Are there any shitty places for hives out there?” I asked.

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

Gomorrah leaned back. “Prévost is to the north and a little west, along the highway. There’s nothing special going on there. An evacuation was called, and most of the city’s population moved out, but there’s a militia and some locals still there. They’re not reporting anything special.”

Lieutenant Colonel Juno’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said.

“Oh what?” I asked.

“I… shouldn’t say,” he replied. He looked up, meeting my eyes, then nodded slightly. What… what was that supposed to mean?

He wants you to ask him anyway, Catherine.

Oh, he was being fucky. “Tell us anyway,” I said.