Chapter Sixty-Two – Miniature Wargaming

Chapter Sixty-Two – Miniature Wargaming

“The main difference between a corporate army force and a national army force comes mostly from the ideology behind both.

In this essay, I will show how legislating for a shift from national to privatised armies is a net positive for the people who matter.”

–A Study on Profitable Militarization, The Kissinger Foundation, 2027

***

It was hard, dealing with Gomorrah’s crap while also feeling extremely twitchy and itchy all over.

The reflex package was definitely kicking in at the moment. I could feel it working across my entire body, but especially my fingers and toes, which I couldn’t stop from twitching slightly. Unfortunately, with the power armour I was in, that slight twitching turned into far more noticeable motions of my hands.

“Are you okay?” Gomorrah asked mid-way through the briefing she was giving me. She was mostly listing out the forces at her disposal. Not mine. I didn’t want to be in charge of jack or shit and no amount of Gomorrah shoving the responsibility my way was gonna change that.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I got a nerve replacement thing going.”

“Oh,” she replied with a nod. “That’s an annoying one.”

“Wait, you did the same?” I asked.

The nun shrugged. “Nerves, some changes to my musculature. I have sheathing over my bones too. I’ve started the skin replacement.”

“Really?” I asked. I remembered her mentioning something to that effect yesterday, but we didn’t go into it.

“Cat, do you have any idea how much time I spend next to fire?”

“I’ve got a decent idea,” I said. “More than the average person.” And a lot more than anyone sane.

She nodded. “Good. Now, do you have any idea how flammable skin is? Not to mention hair.”

“No, no I don’t think I know that, and to be perfectly honest I’m not sure I want to know.”

If it’s any reassurance, your new skin will be significantly harder to burn, though you’re not flame or heatproof. I suspect Atyacus will have offered his Vanguard a type of skin far more suitable to resisting that kind of threat than what I suggested to you.

I filed that away for never. “Well, whatever. Did you get used to it yet?”

“I’ve worn scratchier clothes. I can endure. My new skin’s nice, I think. You get to decide where hair grows back, which is useful as well,” Gomorrah said.

“Oh, shit, yeah. No more shaving your legs and armpits. That’s huge.”

Someone cleared their throat, and both Gomorrah and I stared across the holoprojector at a man in fatigues with a few extra markings on his shoulders. The general in charge of this operation.

Fortunately, Gomorrah and I had been chatting over a private channel. “Sorry, General. Stray Cat asked for clarification on something and I informed her privately. Anyway, as I was saying. Our current force disposition includes two battalions and an additional attached company.”

I raised a hand. “Sorry, dumb question. You’re tossing terms that I’m not familiar with around.”

Gomorrah glanced my way, then the projector shifted from a map to a collection of teeny-tiny models of soldiers and tanks and bigger vehicles. These split into three distinct groups. “The smaller semi-independent group is the recon company under Lieutenant Moreau,” she said.

One group flashed, and I recognized them easily enough. A dozen vehicles, mostly on the lighter side, and some fifty or so soldiers divided into smaller squads.

“Our second group is the Fifth Battalion, under Lieutenant Colonel Juno,” Gomorrah said.