Chapter Thirty-One – Gold Star

Chapter Thirty-One – Gold Star

“Ah, hello there everyone!

It’s called A is for Ants, and it will knock off your pants!”

–Advertisement for A is for Ants, by Grasshopper, 2056

***

I wasn’t sure if I could drop the three or four metres to the ground in front of the mobile base without breaking something.

I probably could, my armour was pretty good. The problem was that I had a mental image of nailing a cool landing only for the mobile base to drive into me, and I didn’t feel like getting run over.

So I did the smart thing and climbed down the side where a ladder hung leading to a few feet off the ground. I jumped off halfway down, landed in a crouch, then took off sprinting to the front. The convoy was slowing down, just as Grasshopper said, which made it easy enough to catch up to the front.

I found Grasshopper ducking to the side as a model three leapt through where she was a moment ago. She pointed a gun into the alien’s side and emptied three rounds into its chest before it flopped on by.

More aliens were pouring out of the forest in ones and twos, but they were being intercepted by my B.E.E.S.. If they slowed down any, then Grasshopper casually planted a round into their heads.

“Good so far?” I asked as I ran up next to her and shouldered my Bullcat. My shoulder-mounted guns deployed and I checked my gear real quick, just in case. My bike was hovering just over the mobile base, if I was needed somewhere further back, I could hop on it and race over.

“So far, so good,” Grasshopper said. “Big group, four o’clock.”

I glanced to the right, then tensed up. A couple dozen model threes were rushing out of the woods, a model five trampling after them on huge, bulky legs. The entire group sailed over the ditch on the roadside, then scurried towards us. At some point they slid into the range of the nearest resonator, but that didn’t slow them down any, nor did the B.E.E.S. that flew over to the group and coated over them.

“Shit,” I muttered before shifting to the side and aiming down at the group. I opened fire, and for a moment all I could do was work to keep the recoil down as I sprayed them with pellets.

Skin was shredded apart, and one model three’s head burst like a melon being dropped onto a speedway, bits of the alien’s face flying all over.

My gun clicked empty, and I stepped back. “Myalis, reload.”

The Bullcat could reload automatically, the magazine in the gun dropping down and a fresh one teleporting into place. It still took a couple seconds.

Grasshopper hummed to herself as she ran towards the group. I almost screamed at her to stay back, but then, she was a samurai as much as I was.

The woman ran low to the ground. Halfway to the first model three she leaned way, way down, then she twisted around in mid-air so that she fell onto her back. The dozens of limbs on her suit clattered against the ground as she slipped under the first leaping model three.

She shot up and into its torso before her legs kicked up and she flipped back onto her feet. The entire time, her arms swung around, almost like she was dancing, and with every swing, she fired.

I blinked as a dozen aliens fell around her, pierced through their heads and the middle of their chests, all clearly dead. Then she spun and ran up towards the model five.

Grasshopper dropped both of her handguns, the two of them swiped out of the air by the arms on her gear. Reaching over her shoulders with both arms, she grabbed onto a pair of hilts pushed up by her equipment.

Two bright knives flicked out of the handles, each one longer than her forearm, and in one smooth motion, she stabbed down with both in an ice-pick grip and impaled either side of the model five’s head.

Grasshopper kicked off the alien, then retracted her knives. She placed the hilts at the base of her back, and retrieved her guns. “I like that sentence.”

“What?” I asked.

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I was impressed. Not even reluctantly impressed, just impressed.

“So far, so good,” Grasshopper said. “It’s an interesting sentence. It’s not particularly unique, but it’s still a fun expression.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Why did you run over to them? You have guns.”

Grasshopper looked away from me. “It looks cooler when you kill them from up close. I’ve been practising my gun-fu for months now.”