Chapter Seventy - A Respite

“Samurai don’t stay human.

Don’t misunderstand, they’re still very much people. It’s just that you cannot expect an older, more experienced Samurai to be a normal human being.

From prosthetic replacements for missing limbs to incredibly advanced body augmentations, over time, a Samurai will leave their mortal human shell behind and turn into something entirely different.

Is it any wonder that some have a hard time sympathizing with the average person off the street?”

--Allan Pascal, online lecture on the psychology of body augmentations, 2031

***

Myalis had a lot of options to go over. Her tone didn’t quite change from its usual calm cadence but I had the impression that she was quite excited by the prospect of turning me into some sort of walking cyborg machine. “I don’t know,” I said to her last suggestion that I just get rid of everything inside my torso and replace it with a single machine. “I’m kind of fond of some of my internal organs. They’ve been with me my entire life.”

It’s merely more cost effective in the long run to replace everything in one fell swoop rather than piecemeal.

“What if... I don’t know, someone shoots me with a magnet?”

The system is hardly that failable. Also, someone could shoot you with a far cheaper standard bullet now and have the same impact on your lifespan at a much reduced cost.

“Point,” I said as I reached the end of the bridge. I looked around another sort of open-concept concourse. “You think we can take the elevators up?”

The elevators are still reporting as functional. On the subject of internal augmentations, it might all be a moot point. The more complex additions would require an operation’s suite to be installed, or else a series of drones to accomplish the operations and some time to recover afterwards. It would be unwise to do so in a battlefield.

“Then why are you pushing it so much?” I asked as I started following the signs towards an elevator bank.

I’m getting you used to the idea now, so that it’s easier to convince you later.

I snorted. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” I said.

Of course not. I’m merely thinking ahead. From your profile, I think it’s safe to assume that one of your goals in the near future will be to heal and fix as many of the injuries and defects that your kittens have, correct?

Stepping into the elevator, I paused for a moment as the doors shut on their own and I started moving up. “Yeah. Yeah that’s one thing I’ll definitely be doing soon.” The points I’d accumulated would be enough, I hoped. Some of the kittens only had little problems that I was sure a few meds could fix. Some had more complicated issues. Missing limbs would require some good prosthetics and the like. But I could afford them if I was a little more frugal with my points.

In that case there’s a good chance that you’ll be investing points into medical catalogues already. I’m just ensuring that you make the best out of them.

I crossed my arms and waited as we climbed up a few dozen floors. Myalis was... probably being as honest as she could be. The AI really did have a tendency to try and help, even if sometimes I questioned her intelligence a bit.

“First thing’s first, I’m going to need to replace my hydra guns,” I said. Raising up my new arm, I poked at the mangled remains of the right-side mount. “Maybe something with more bang.”

That’s not a terrible idea. Might I suggest a more comprehensive system than the plain Hydra?

“Now’s the time,” I said. I had points to burn, especially if they would keep me alive. “I do like the shoulder mounts.”

Then perhaps a full suite instead. Four arms to replace the two you have. You could also dip into your Plasma Casting Weaponry catalogue for something a little more dangerous than your Lancejets. I’m afraid that there aren’t that many subtle weapons in that category though.

“The plasma rifles weren’t very loud,” I said.

No. But their bullets glow. That might be outweighed by the advantage brought by purchasing a set of weapons that don’t require standard ammunition to fire, using gas and pellets instead. You could purchase a set of weapons with a greater rate of fire and the ability to fire an order of magnitude more projectiles before reloading.

I felt a grin tugging at my lips, one that was really helping get past the pain of my last battering. “That sounds nice. Maybe mix and match? Two plasma... smg things, and a pair of bigger, meaner guns. Something that won’t just annoy the next double-digit I run into.”

There should be some options like that in your Kinetic Handguns catalogue. Perhaps a Kneebreaker. It’s essentially a pared-down light anti-material rifle.

“Those are certainly words I’ve heard before,” I said.

The elevator stopped with a cheerful ‘ding’ and the doors slid open while I was reaching for my Trench Maker.

It fires very big bullets very fast. I’m afraid I can’t simplify it more than that.

I snorted and shook my head.

The floor we’d stopped at was filled with similar shops, so I was greeted by the eerie jingles of a dozen empty stores as I stepped out and looked around for something to jump out at me.

To the left. And as for the Kneebreaker, it’s just about the hardest-hitting handgun you have. It fires an osmium ball through... the explanation will be pointless. It’s a small railgun.

“Aww, you can explain things if you want,” I said. “I know how much you like explaining all the little unimportant details to me.”

Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you as a Vanguard. I could have been paired with someone who at least had the intellect to understand all of my explanations. It’s a good thing you’re mostly enjoyable and your penchant for making things explode is so entertaining.

I felt a bit of a twinge in my chest, one that I suspected wasn’t from one of my many new injuries. “Well, I like you,” I said. “So as Lucy would say, you’re stuck with me.”

She would have been a much nicer Vanguard if she had the right drive.

I glared at the empty air before me, though there was no heat in it. “Hands off, she’s mine.”

I don’t have hands.

“You know what I meant,” I said with a warning shake of a finger.

“What did you mean?”

I jumped about a foot in the air and looked around like the last deer caught in the headlights of a semi. My attention locked onto a pristine and unruffled Gomorrah who stepped out from a passage ahead. “You’re alive,” I said.

“I don’t think there was any doubt about me surviving,” she said. “You, on the other hand, look like you took a dip through the first few circles of hell. Are you injured?”

“No more than usual,” I said.

She shook her head. “That’s not reassuring.”

I grinned back at her, looked around, and on spotting a nice little restaurant with some seats out front, made my way over to a nice bench where I could take some weight off my feet. “I’m a bit tired,” I admitted. “But I’ll be fine.”

She looked me up and down. “Take your time,” she said.

I was about to respond when a familiar clicking came from around the corner. I looked over in time to see Dumbass the First and Dumbass Two skittering around the corner, both of them hanging onto one end of a familiar rifle. “My Whisper!” I said.

The Dumbasses came by my side and I picked the rifle from their back and looked it over. It had gained some scuffs and the bipod legs at the bottom were fucked, but it looked usable still. “Nice work, Dumbasses.”

The drones spun around in a little dance while I set the gun across my lap.

“You’re a strange one,” Gomorrah said. “You need help replacing some of your gear?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say no,” I said. “I think I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Gomorrah pulled out a seat next to mine, then she looked over to a glass display with some sodas behind it. “Temptation has a hold on me,” she muttered before walking over to it. With an unexpectedly swift kick, she broke the glass front and pulled out a pair of sodas from the rack behind. She placed one onto the table next to me before sitting down with her own.

“Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t peg you as the vandalism sort.”

“I’m thirsty,” she said.

“I bet you are,” I replied with a wiggle of my eyebrows that would have made Lucy proud.

She scoffed and reached up under her hood. Her mask came off with a hiss, and the stern woman’s face was set aside to reveal a beautiful young woman. She had high cheekbones and the sort of symmetrical face bordered by messy blonde hair that could drive someone mad.

“With a face like that, I don’t know why you wear that mask,” I said.

She glared at me, the look a lot stronger now that I could see her piercing blue eyes. “It’s because I’d like to keep my face the way it is. With the amount of injuries you accrue you ought to think of armour yourself.”

I hummed. That was an idea. But it would need to wait for me to calm down a bit.

***