Chapter Twenty – Nanomachines, Son

Chapter Twenty – Nanomachines, Son

“Fuck logistics.”

Corporal Dimitry, Russian Eastern Incursion Front, 2029

***

First, nanomachines. Specifically nanobots that can be used in an offensive capability.

“I need a catalogue for that?” I asked.

The only nanomachines you’ve used previously were specifically designed to dispose of antithesis corpses. This is an entirely different use-case.

“Yeah, but those were also nanostuff,” I pointed out.

Cat. The ones you want to buy for this hive are as different as a doorhandle is to a spacecraft. While both could technically be called machines, the degrees of complexity between them makes keeping both in the same general categorization idiotic and misleading.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, yeah, fair enough.” I imagined the nanobots we were preparing to deploy were going to be somewhat more complicated than those I’d used before. They needed to travel to specific places and wait for a specific signal before they started anything. “Any other catalogue I should look into?” I asked.

Two come to mind. Basic Defensive Infrastructure for quick-to-install defences. Then, Civilian-Grade General Combat Equipment. That last one is for the civilians, obviously.

“What does Civilian-Grade mean, exactly?” I asked.

The catalogue mostly has helmets and armour that’s relatively cheap, capable of keeping a civilian informed and connected while also keeping them safe from the weakest antithesis. These are not rated for the level of combat a Vanguard would expect to face, and aren’t designed to last very long. The catalogue includes weapons that are meant to be so easy to use that a child could operate them with barely any instruction without harming themselves or others.

I reached the top of the escalator, then nodded along. “Alright, fine. Grab the catalogues.”

New Purchase: Class I Nanomechanized Warfare
Current Points: 94,564

New Purchase: Basic Defensive Infrastructure
Current Points: 94,264

“Nice,” I said. “Hold off on buying stuff for a minute, though,” I said. There was a predictable number of militia men loitering around a set of shops that had been taken over. Someone installed steel plates before the windows and blocked the rest off with planks, leaving only one way into the area, with hip-high sandbags stacked up around it. Anyone coming in would have to get past the guys with rifles by the entrance.

Fortunately, I had someone running out to meet me already. A fresh-faced woman, maybe three or four years older than me, who came to a stop next to me and snapped a salute. “Second Lieutenant Smart, ma’am,” she said. “The General said you would need some assistance.”

“Hey Smart,” I said. “I think we all need a bit of help right now.” She laughed and I stared at her for a long couple of seconds. That hadn’t been funny. Was I dealing with my own yes-man? Yes-woman? Yes-cute-girl-in-tight-uniform?

I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. I preferred it when corporate stooges were angry at me, that meant I was doing the right thing.

“Did the General give you an outline of what’s going on?”

She nodded. “Yes ma’am. We’re looking for volunteers for your high-risk mission now. It might take a few minutes to gather everyone. The vehicle for their transportation is being readied as well. We just need the equipment they’ll be using.”

“Good,” I said. Then I looked at the shops they’d taken over. A clothing place and a sporting goods store. The shelves had been pushed around and it was pretty clear that they’d done some last-minute renovations to make the place more suitable to their needs. It also looked like they’d set up a clinic of sorts and some spaces for their people to sit down and relax in.

That was all fine, but I needed more room than they could afford.

“Smart,” I snapped. She straightened up as if I’d pinched her. “I need tables. All across here. Get me every nice flat surface you can find. It’s not time for sitting around and looking clever, so get those guys over there working too.”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” she said as she followed my gesturing hand. I was just making a vague wave across the floor we were on. Half of the area was taken up by one of those open spaces that looked onto the floors below and above that malls liked so much because it made them look so much bigger.

The Second Lieutenant ran off to do as I’d asked, which was something I could get used to. In the meantime, I turned my attention towards Myalis. “Nanobombs first,” I said. “Enough to mess up the hive. I think price is a secondary concern here. Besides, they should pay for themselves.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

They should, though don’t expect them to be too profitable. Vanguard receive fewer points the more degrees of separation there are between themselves and a kill they score.

“Huh,” I said. “Okay, I guess.” Was it a way to keep samurai from making a literal killing without having to do any killing? I supposed that I’d been losing points here and there while using drones.

Don’t worry. Most of the drones you’ve used have been deployed in close proximity to yourself. And any trap, explosive, or mine that you lay yourself doesn’t suffer from any point-based penalties.

“Is it all there to slow progress down, or to discourage us from sitting at home buck naked while making a fortune?” I asked.

Why not both? Besides, you’re not as interesting when you’re cooped up at home.

I snorted. Chalk one up to the “Protectors using us as entertainment” theory. Which honestly never sounded plausible. If humanity could have story-telling AI that rivalled the combined minds of every poet and author ever put together, then the Protectors could generate their own drama without having to involve the likes of me.