Chapter Thirty-Four – Rule

Chapter Thirty-Four – Rule

“If you look at a bird’s eye view of the first forty-eight hours of an incursion, you’ll be surprised to see how they spread. We imagine the spread as a sort of flood stemming from the centre and going out, but in reality, just like the plants they almost are, the Antithesis move a little more organically.

Some people compare it to breathing, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The process ebbs and flows, but it isn’t constant. The amount of resistance they meet will often dictate the speed of the spread.”

–Professor Heinlein, excerpt from a lecture on the knowledge gained from early Antithesis studies (thereafter called Alien Anthropology), 2028.

***

I came down to find the dozen or so office drones, Elisa, and Storm all just waiting around. There was a listlessness to them, like how I imagined people that knew they were dead would see the world.

They turned towards me when I pushed the door open with a shoulder.

I got a lot of stares, which wasn’t entirely new. I was a one-armed cyclops with a few strange scars and a tiny bit of an attitude problem. Getting stared at was pretty damned routine. “You’re all still kicking?” I asked.

Storm pushed off the pillar he was leaning against. “We are,” he said. “How did things go above?”

“There were a whole fuckload of aliens. Were being the important bit there. If we hurry we should be able to make it up without any trouble.” I pointed my thumb towards the ceiling. “Are you guys up for a bit of a jog?”

I got that they weren’t into the whole physical exercise thing, and who could blame them, but they didn’t need to look like I’d just asked them to take part in a puppy kicking contest.

“Come on, you can either get moving, or stay here and turn to alien chow.”

That got them moving with a bit more alacrity. As one big group, we trudged up the stairs, then spilled out into the backroom for the next floor up.

I had to admit, I enjoyed the wide-eyed looks they gave to the dozens of pulped, melted and torn up aliens dotting the cafeteria. What was less enjoyable was seeing knee-high birds pecking at some of the corpses and occasionally taking bites with razor-lined beaks.

“What are those?” I muttered.

Model Ones. They become quite common a few hours after the start of an incursion and will no doubt soon be the most populous Antithesis variant in the region. Their threat is negligible, though they can still be dangerous in large quantities.

“Can I shoot them?” I asked.

Certainly. It might serve to scare them off.

I pulled my Trench Maker out of its holster and paused to aim. I knew there was this whole thing with placing your feet just-so, and aiming down the sights, and I did try a little, but I figured doing what felt comfortable was better.

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Or maybe I was crippling my ability to actually hit anything.

I squinted, lined the reticule over one of the bigger crow-like birds, then bit the tip of my tongue before squeezing the trigger.

The Model One exploded in a bust of guts, strange feathers, and fire.

“Oh yeah,” I said.