"And what are you idiots doing here?"
"What does it look like, asshole?"
"Being lazy fucks?"
"Nah, bitch. Being on standby. It's a military speciality, fuckwad."
"What, wasting credits sitting around on the tarmac and sunning yourselves, blockhead?"
"Lotsa hurry-up-and-wait in the PMC, birdbrain."
"Well, fucking do something useful, grunt!"
"We are, rubberneck. What'cha think would happen if we had to carefully drop tasks first when the sirens go, smartass?"
– Dialogue between the soldiers-at-standby of a Private Military Company and one "concerned citizen" during the Global Invasion of 2057
***
After Leah's promise, the quality of the battle shifted.
She wasn't taking pleasure in the act of mutilating the Twenty-Eight anymore. Leah just considered what had to be done, and solved the challenges as they arose.
I found myself calmed down and, drained as I felt, I probably would've fallen asleep with my cheek resting atop the redhead's bust while her hands cradled my head and back. But we were in battle, Quantized Tinea was shelling aliens, the howitzers would want reloading any moment now, and I did need to figure out what tools we were lacking.
Each Fourteen she slaughtered was worth several hundred points due to the single-digit models riding within, and our counter very quickly ticked up past five thousand points.
"Hey, Leah," I asked.
"Mhm?" she answered. The spider switched direction again, and I smiled as her soft flesh jiggled beneath my head from the change in momentum.
The little hairs across my nape stiffened as the esoteric recoil-shunting-thing bit reality with monochrome fangs and forced it to hold still, and finally, shivers ran down my spine as the cannon heralded death with a reverberating gong. I witnessed a glittering rainbow-mirage version of us be thrown dozens of meters and shatter against the trees behind us.
What-Was fled my brain on fraying synapses. But extrapolation and simulation replaced cognitive confusion, fed from theoretical knowledge and calculations as the Quanta constructed new, artificial memories, and my natural brain eagerly absorbed them and fixed the holes within its own patterns.
I remembered experiencing the impossible, and knew that I knew nothing at all. But somehow, I did, and that was all my psyche needed to just…shrug and keep on trucking.
The bulk of my attention analyzed the battlefield and saw that—75 mm high-explosive fragmentation grenades raining on them or not—Daddy-Long-legs was going to be inundated with single-digit models soonish.
I wanted to be out and able to act before then.
"We've got a lot of points. I'm gonna get those wings growing, alright?"
"Mm!" Leah patted my back and smiled. "I'll try and keep from tossing you about."
Giggling, I kissed her collarbone and got up, steadying myself with a hand against the curved dome of the mech's abdomen. She was still strapped into her crash couch with my DIY five-point harness, which would keep her safe. But as long as she kept her prosthetics equipped, she wouldn't be able to close the shell of the pod.
Hmm. That may be a problem if she ever needs to escape from Daddy-Long-Legs… Gonna suggest a new pod later, I guess. A bigger one.
Meanwhile, I'd make absolutely sure that it wouldn't come to that. Good thing I was a Vanguard, too, huh?
"I'd rather you didn't even risk putting yourself in a bad position, okay? I'm not even sure I can bruise anymore," I giggled.
She tossed me a thumbs-up with glittering eyes, and it suddenly struck me how relaxed she looked. Not a trace of the previous anger and hurt.
She really, really doesn't waste time acting on new convictions, does she? Guess I shouldn't waste time either.
I looked around myself, and got busy filling up the 75mm magazines again.
"Okay, Tynea. What do we need for the whole wings combo?"
The wings themselves are merely a download for your Iterator to print the editors. You will require a lot of sustenance, along with certain specialized organometallics that your body cannot produce. Class II Medical Utilities, and the mobile surgery kit. Jump jets, and the parachute. Protection for your sensilla in battle, and to enhance acuity during turbulent weather.
Finished with reloading the auxiliary cannons, I sat my rump down in front of Leah's pod and secured myself with a few bands of silk across my legs and hips, before glancing across the battlefield again.
The Fourteens were not only dead, but so shredded by the passage of the gravitic projectiles that they'd mostly ceased to exist. Plenty more were crashing through the distant trees, though, along with other double-digit models. They'd probably join the battle in the next ten to fifteen minutes.
The Twenty-Eight was hanging on, and without other tall enemies around, Leah was having some difficulty getting her esoteric shells to soak up enough mass to go critical during their arc. They just bounced off of the beast's armor, one after the other.
Low profile enemies are an issue for the Hatchet's heaviest armament. Noted.
At least the lumbering monster wasn't lumbering anymore, what with having lost two legs.
"Let's get those wing-roots growing, Tynea. How long do I have to wait until I can go mobile?"
A plastic box popped into my lap. It had two dozen transparent lids covering as many compartments within. Each one was filled up with colorful pills, and the lids had a variety of numbers and labels printed on them.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
You'll need to consume these pills over the next few weeks, one load per day. They'll provide you with whatever your body requires during the relevant phase of the wings' growth. Please start with the first one, top left.
That one was by far the largest compartment and had about three times the content of any other cell. Makes sense, I supposed, if I'm gonna grow the first bits a lot faster.
I popped its lid, smiling wryly as I was reminded of those old Christmas calendars the girls in the Klan would lug around and trade pieces of chocolate between each other. I guess it's my turn today, huh? I thought with a quiet chuckle as I woofed fifteen chunky, rubbery, rainbow-colored balls one by one. Friggin chew toys. Woof.
They dissolved into fluids in the middle of swallowing, which was really weird. Waterfalls in my throat. I'd swear there was more fluid in my stomach than I'd put solid balls into my mouth.
The autosurgeon will accelerate the growth of the first and second segments of all four wing-limbs, as well as the new brain and inertial sensor at their roots. This will take ten minutes, and most of your body will be numbed during this time.
Like local anesthesia, huh? Probably a smart thing, considering that growing pains were a thing and these growth rates sounded insane.
Most of your bionites and nutrient mix will be used up during this procedure. The rest of the arms and the wing membranes will grow over the next thirty days.
Aw, back to smol jigglies. Oh well.
"Hmm… Am I going to have to practice using these new limb things? And, uh… What will they look like?"
The new brain will manage the new limbs, and your Aerial Maneuvering dream training already covered the jets' use.
"Neat."
You'll have the first and second part of each wing arm, from the root to the second joint.
Tynea sent me a video file. I recognized the designs of my new body as Tinea. But the wing membranes were removed and the root arms' lengths were reduced by perhaps two thirds, leaving me with four extra scale-covered arms sticking out of my lower back, just above my tail.
"That looks so weird without the wings. Naked. Can we do something about that?"
Certainly. In fact, attaching the jump jets and the reusable, self-stowing parachute, should help.
And it did. They looked less like weird, deformed extra arms, and more like attached robotic limbs, covered with sleeves of webbed tubing, a series of thrust nozzles, and a compact pack strapped between the root joints. The pack appeared to hold the parachute, with strings leading from it to rings attached at the end of each arm.
Steering lines? I assumed.
"Uff, I have no experience parachuting, Tynea, and I don't recall that being part of the aerial maneuvering training."
It was part of the Class I Piloting: Atmospheric Personal Vehicles dream lessons. You'll find usage of the parachute quite natural, once you get to it.
"Oh." I scratched my head. "Okay. I don't remember that, like, at all."
There were thousands of vehicle types, after all. It won't be an issue.
"I see. Um. Let's get to it, I guess?"
If you recall my earlier comment, one thousand points for the jump jets package will allow me a great deal of modification. What do you want their strength to be? The parachute is included.
"Right." I fell silent to think for a bit. If I was gonna be Daddy-Long-Legs' support, I'd have to be able to stay up. Rather than me relying on Leah to have a place to land safely, it'd be her relying on me to keep her path unobstructed.
"Loiter time, I think? Hours and hours."
That will require additional defenses for you, too.
"Mm. Maneuverability, perhaps? Can you make the parachute one of those square ones? The steerable ones."
It is already. Would you prefer maneuverability or the most efficient descent rate possible?
"Uh… Is that how long it takes before I hit the ground?"
It's how far you can go for every meter you lose in altitude. How long you can stay up depends a lot on the weather conditions.
"Oh. Can I use the jump jets to regain height? And what happens if I have the parachute out and need to move fast?"
The canopy is designed to stow itself during battle. But the larger the canopy, the more efficient it is at conserving energy, and the longer it takes to snap shut. The jump jets can be used as motors with the canopy deployed, but this does ultimately reduce maneuverability compared to stowing the parachute for maneuvers.
"Okay, fuck it. I know little about fighting in the sky, Tynea. Give me something that allows me to stay up for hours while dodging gunfire and aerial beasts."
Understood. Here's the list of purchases as I would recommend. I'll include the kit of nutrients in your lap:
Unlocked:
- 300 pts, 1 tkn; Class II Medical Utilities
Total cost: 300 pts, 1 tkn (Tinea)
Remaining points: 5003
Remaining tokens: 1 (Tinea)
Purchased:
- 2000 pts x 1; Class II 'Origami' Saturniidae Moth Wing
- 120 pts x 1; 'Foundation' Medical Kit, nutrients and materials for quickmorphing
- 700 pts x 1; Class II 'Skitterway' Autonomous Mobile Surgeon
- 1010 pts x 1; 'Second Wind' Combat Canopy and Jump Jets: Class I Moonsinger Technologies Auxiliary Enhancement for 'Origami' Saturniidae Moth Wing, modified for power and endurance
- 200 pts x 1; 'Solids' Kinetic Muffler Mark XIII: Class I Moonsinger Technologies Auxiliary Enhancement for 'Picket' Plumose Antennae
Total cost: 4030
Remaining points: 973
"Expensive as hell, huh? Well, plenty of aliens around. Looks good to me, buy it."
Done. I've already set your Iterator to produce the viruses. Please hold still for the autosurgeon.
Three additional boxes clattered against the floor of Daddy-Long-Legs' living space in front of me, and one immediately came to life. The metal…suitcase of a spider stretched six limbs, popped out what looked like several cameras on a stalk, and turned to look at me.
Leah swerved and the other, smaller, box smacked into its side and sent it scrambling for traction with flailing legs. I snorted as my tail flashed out to stabilize it, even as I grabbed both of the other cases and sat on the pill kit before they went ballistic again.
The Skitterway skittered along my tail and climbed up my back, and wrapped four of its legs around my shoulders from above and below. The remaining two legs stretched some sort of fabric sheet between themselves, laid it against my back above my tail, and then inflated it. The balloon completely deadened vibrations and I couldn't see through it, not even with my antennae.
"Huh. What's it doing, Tynea?"
It's creating a sterile environment within which to operate on you. You'll momentarily lose control of your legs and tail, Tinea. Your arms, shoulders, and head will be fine, and the autosurgeon will keep you upright.
"Gotcha."
The thing on my back beeped once, and then a hot wave washed through my lower torso and my legs, followed by…nothing. I tried to look over my shoulder, but found I didn't have enough mobility in my torso to do so. The medical suitcase was keeping me still.
"Is it working now?" I asked.
Yes. Ten minutes.
"Okay…"
Well, this was boring. I didn't even get to see my samurai shit doing samurai shit.
Boo.
***
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