The Autumn War Vol. 02: Remnants

"I've not had a problem with your soldiery," Fletcher replied sternly. "But-"

"But what?" Bluejay demanded, spreading all four arms as he let his rifle hang at his side. "I'm too nice? I do my job too well? I don't complain when you call me a fucking Bug? What do you want from me, Fletcher?"

"This was what I wanted," he replied, watching the furious insect. "A reaction."

"You want a reaction?" Bluejay snapped. "How's this for a fucking reaction?"

He stepped into a punch, striking Fletcher in the jaw with one of his upper arms. The speed and force of the blow took Fletcher completely by surprise, sending him toppling backwards into a nearby booth. He crashed into the table, upending it, abandoned glassware shattering on the carpet around him as he was showered with drinking vials.

Ruza was on him in a moment, hauling him to his feet by his chest rig, staring down Bluejay with fierce eyes as if to dissuade a follow-up. Bluejay was still fuming, but he seemed to deflate a little once the realization of what he had done washed over him. He had struck a superior officer.

Fletcher stood unsteadily, reaching up to nurse his bruised jaw. Xipa and Gustave just stood there, not sure what to do or which side to take. When Fletcher opened his mouth, it wasn't to reprimand. The Earth'nay began to laugh to himself, much to the confusion of everyone else in the room.

"Yeah, that was a reaction alright," he chuckled. Now, it was Bluejay's turn to cock his head, unsure of why he wasn't being chewed out. He still had his fists raised, as though he expected Fletcher to come back at him. "I pegged you as a Drone that was just running on different software," he continued. "Humans are emotional, they get angry, they have a sense of pride and fairness. That turn the other cheek bullshit isn't going to earn you any respect. Now, I see that you're exactly what you claim to be."

"You provoked me until I hit you to...test me?" Bluejay scoffed. "You could have just fucking talked to me."

"You might have just told me exactly what I wanted to hear," he explained. "I needed to see the human in you for myself. You can't fake a reaction like that."

"So, what now?" Bluejay asked warily. "You gonna make a report about how I assaulted my commanding officer and get us all sent home?"

"No," Fletcher replied, stepping closer as he warded off Ruza with a wave of his prosthetic arm. "I earned that lick. It's on me." He extended a hand, Bluejay eyeing it hesitantly. "If you can forgive me for being a dickhead, I'd be glad to have a Jarilan on my team."

Bluejay still looked confused, but he took Fletcher's hand, the two shaking on it.

"You've got a weird way of making friends," Bluejay muttered, but he seemed relieved.

"I guess it's my turn to take watch," Fletcher said with a grin, making his way past Bluejay as he headed for the door. The insect turned to Xipa, giving her a shrug.

"Broken circle, no good for anyone," Gustave rumbled. The meaning was lost on Xipa, but he seemed pleased by the outcome of the confrontation.

She made her way to one of the booths, finding the plush cushions almost untouched by the ravages of time, shrugging off her pack before sinking into their soft confines. They were in a relatively safe place now, and she could finally relax completely for what felt like the first time in days. If only there was still a little dried herb left, but any stores they had in the back rooms would certainly have rotted away by now. When this was all over, and they had driven the Bugs off Kerguela, the first thing she'd do to celebrate was have a long smoke.

CHAPTER 3: SNARE

"We're coming up on the signal now," Xipa warned, the group stopping in the shadow of a towering building that pierced the clouds. Its ornate facade was carpeted in red moss, all of its windows broken, its off-white carbcrete giving it the appearance of some long-dead thing. Ahead of them, the streets converged on the city center, an open park area that covered maybe five or six thousand square meters. Just like what they had encountered in the prior bands, the plants here had overgrown their bounds, creating a thriving forest that spilled out to tear up the asphalt. Rising up from the dense canopy in the center was a sculpture of glass and steel, twisting into the air to form a giant seed. Most of the panels were broken now, but Xipa could still make out the way that they transitioned from blue to green, refracting the light to create a border between earth and sky.

"I don't know about this," Fletcher muttered, shielding his eyes from the sun as he glanced up at the tall buildings that surrounded them. "If I was going to stage an ambush, I'd do it here. There are a million windows that have a perfect view of the park. Someone could be standing on a roof with a fucking rocket launcher, and we wouldn't even be able to see them from down here."

"The transmitter is right in the middle," Xipa replied. "We have little choice but to proceed."

"Maybe I could take a look," Bluejay added.

"If you're going to do it, do it quietly, Jay," Fletcher replied. Bluejay blinked back at him, taken aback by how he was being addressed now. "The last thing we need is you getting shot out of the sky."

"Full-spectrum scan," Bluejay suggested. "Infrared, FLIR, motion detection."

Fletcher nodded, then began to raise his rifle, flinching away from Ruza as the feline tried to put a furry hand on the barrel.

"Calm down, you fleabag. I'm not gonna fire it."

The team began to look through their scopes and visors, scanning the trees ahead and the windows that towered above them. Xipa switched to her visor's heat mode, the world taking on shades of black and blue, increasing the magnification as she scanned the windows across the park. Nothing stood out to her, but she couldn't check every damned window in the square. After a few minutes, they stopped, Xipa glancing to her companions from atop Gustave's shoulder.

"I got nothing," Fletcher announced. "Anyone?" Everyone shook their heads, and he sighed into his helmet. "There are too many places that a critter could hide. That sniper Bug didn't even put out any body heat when it was stalking us. We'd never be able to pick it up at any kind of distance."

"Let me lead the way," Bluejay suggested, gesturing to his antennae. "I should be able to sniff out any ferals before they get into visual range. Not the snipers, obviously."

"Watch yourself," Fletcher replied, giving him a pat on the back. "I want everyone keeping their distance. Should make it harder for a boobytrap or an explosive to catch us all at once."

They formed a loose wedge with Bluejay at its tip, Xipa hopping down from Gustave's shoulder as they advanced, the team staying maybe five meters apart. Tension melded with her excitement. They were so close to their destination, but this was easily the most dangerous leg of their journey. There were almost certainly Bugs still inside the city walls, and they'd all be heading here.

She shouldered her XMR, sweeping it back and forth as she bobbed through the bushes, the red leaves rustling beneath her clawed feet. Gustave was off to her right, his massive cannon at the ready, while Fletcher walked to her left. He was unarmed, apparently heeding Ruza's orders despite how naked it must have made him feel.

They pushed through the dense trees, the sculpture rising up in front of them as they neared the absolute center of the city.

"What is the purpose of this structure?" Ruza wondered, breaking comms silence.

"Decorative," Xipa replied. "It's supposed to represent the seed from which the city would grow."

"Quiet," Fletcher hissed. "Jay, anything?"

"Just plants and animals so far," the insect replied. "There's a lot of pollen in the air, lots of mushroom spores. Makes it a little harder to get a read."

"There!" Xipa exclaimed, pointing towards the sculpture. "I see the beacon!"

Above the canopy was a small, yellow device - a box about the size of an MRE with rounded corners and a little black antenna. It had been attached to one of the structure's exposed supports with what looked like electrical tape. A cable trailed from it, spiraling its way down the metal beam, taped in places to keep it from coming loose. It vanished from view inside the sculpture, Xipa hurrying closer as Fletcher extended a hand to stop her in vain. When she peeked through an opening that had once held a pane of glass, she saw that the insulated cable was connected to an emergency generator that was sitting in the middle of the mushroom-covered floor. She could hear it chugging along. It was an old portable model that ran on biofuel, intended to be used in areas where there was no electrical grid.

"I knew it!" she chirped, turning to glance back at the rest of the team as they closed in to get a look. "Someone jury-rigged this beacon to keep broadcasting!"

"What does that mean?" Fletcher asked, following the winding cable with his eyes.

"Don't you see?" she demanded, practically hopping on the spot with excitement. "The beacon is positioned above the canopy! These trees weren't here at the time of the invasion! That generator runs on biofuel - it couldn't possibly have been left unattended for more than a few days. Someone has been coming here to refill it!"

Something landed in the tall grass at Bluejay's feet, rolling to a stop.

"Grenade!" Fletcher yelled, the device exploding before they had a chance to react. A cloud of noxious gas erupted into the air, quickly carpeting the area in an obscuring shroud. It looked like a Bug gas grenade, Xipa leaping away from the swirling haze. Everyone had been wearing their helmets with the visors down save for Gustave and Bluejay. The reptile was already pulling his hood over his long snout, but Bluejay was writhing, clawing at his face with both pairs of hands as he stumbled backwards. He flailed, whipping around like he was swiping at invisible flies, his eyes wide and unfocused.

A far-off shot rang out, a sticky web expanding to coat the Jarilan in its shimmering strands, quickly tangling the disoriented insect's limbs. He toppled over, still squirming in the grass. As Xipa spun around, aiming her gun at the source of the shot, she realized that they were surrounded.

All around the team, concealed hatches were opening up, the wooden panels covered over with grass. Figures cloaked in red foliage rose up from the dugouts beneath to aim weapons at them, Xipa catching glimpses of molded resin and shining magnetic rails. These were not Bugs, however. From beneath a cowl that was sewn with autumn leaves, she saw the green snout of a Valbara'nay.

There must have been two dozen of them, the team taken completely by surprise. Ruza slowly set his XMR on the ground, Xipa and Fletcher following suit, the barrels of the strange weapons following their every movement. They raised their hands above their heads, Fletcher glancing over at Gustave, who still had his cannon raised.

"Put that thing down, you oversized iguana!" he hissed under his breath. "You're gonna get us all killed!"

Gustave seemed to consider for a moment, then gradually lowered the enormous weapon to the ground, raising his leathery hands in surrender. It was still attached to the drum magazine on his back via the ammo belt, but the gesture was enough to stop them from being ventilated on the spot. Their captors were climbing out of their dugouts now, their bobbing gait and their long tails confirming Xipa's suspicions. Even with so many guns pointed at her, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of relief and pride. She was vindicated.

"I hate being wrong," Fletcher muttered as one of the survivors raised the magnetic rails of a Bug rifle to his face.

One of the strangers approached Xipa, the long cloak that she wore trailing on the ground behind her. Now that she could get a closer look, she saw how red leaves and mosses had been sewn into the fabric for camouflage, not dissimilar from how the sniper Bugs used their silk to blend into their environment. Beneath a shadowy cowl, Xipa could make out the end of a gas mask, a pair of large, square filters hanging off the snout. As the stranger pulled the hood back, she saw that it was a mask of the kind used by the City Guard when tackling fires, designed to filter out smoke and dangerous chemicals. The transparent visor was scratched in places, worn by use, but Xipa could see the wearer's violet eyes peering back at her.

In the woman's hand was a Bug plasma pistol, an amalgam of camouflaged resin and organic components, the magnetic rails shining in the dappled light that made it through the canopy. She pointed it at Xipa, who tried not to flinch away, keeping her sheaths under control.

The rest of the survivors had closed in, keeping the team in their sights, scrutinizing the strange aliens. Bluejay was only now recovering from whatever had been done to him, lying still as one of the camouflaged women approached him, his eyes tracking her warily. From beneath her cloak, she drew a savage weapon, a one-handed hammer of the kind one might have expected to find on a construction site. She wielded it like a pick, raising it above her head with the claw facing the ground, preparing to bring it down on Bluejay's skull.

"Wait!" Xipa demanded, her suit panels flashing orange in alarm.

The masked woman raised a gloved hand, the feather sheath on her forearm fanning out in a wordless signal for her companion to halt. The hammer-wielding woman paused, waiting patiently for further instructions, Bluejay closing his eyes in silent relief. Xipa turned her eye back to the masked woman, slowly moving her hand to the visor release on the side of her helmet. When nobody told her to stop, she popped it open, grimacing as she caught a foul whiff of whatever they had hit Bluejay with.

"We heard your distress signal," she insisted, watching the woman's eyes play across her burns curiously. "We're here to rescue you." A flutter of amused lime passed through the woman's exposed feathers. Apparently, she wasn't impressed by her saviors. "A lot has happened since the invasion," Xipa continued. "I have a lot to explain, but I can't help you if you kill my flock."

"Your flock?" the woman scoffed, her voice muffled by her mask. "What about the mealworm?"

"The insect?" Xipa asked, glancing over at the bound Jarilan. A half-truth would be more expedient than arguing for his personhood right now. "It is domesticated - a tool that helps us sense the enemy's pheromones. It answers to me."

"Unless you have a leash for your pet, it stays bound," the stranger hissed. "If we find that it is poorly trained, perhaps we will boil it and serve it for supper."

"You want to tell the rest of us what all those angry parrot noises mean?" Fletcher asked, one of the women jabbing him in the ribs with the pronged barrel of her Betelgeusian rifle.

"I'm trying to convince them not to eat you," Xipa replied, keeping her unblinking eye on the masked woman. The stranger cocked her head at the sound, having never heard the Earth'nay tongue before.

"Oh, great," he grunted as he resisted the urge to rub his side. "Lovely welcome party, by the way. Tell them that I appreciate their hospitality."

"Shut up!" Xipa hissed.

"You will come with us," the woman announced, giving another wordless signal with her feathers. Her companions began to force the team to move out at gunpoint, two of them gripping Bluejay by his legs, dragging him through the undergrowth like a sack of fertilizer. More of them retrieved the XMRs from the ground, pausing to relieve the team of their sidearms, confiscating everything that they could recognize as a weapon. They turned the strange guns over in their hands, inspecting the unfamiliar devices before stowing them beneath their cloaks. Gustave was surrounded by half a dozen of the cloaked Valabara'nay, who were all pointing rifles at him, the comparatively tiny creatures not sure what to do with the towering beast. Fortunately for them, he went peacefully, lifting his cannon by the barrel. They had little choice but to let him carry it, as even a whole flock wouldn't have been able to move the thing.

They knew exactly where they were going, heading off into the park, the masked woman keeping her pistol trained on Xipa as they marched through the trees. Even as they walked, more hidden Valbara'nay revealed themselves, invisible in the foliage until they chose to move. More and more, they reminded her of her people's distant past. They signaled silently to one another with their feathers, a tradition that still saw use in modern Commando units as a faster alternative to radio while in visual range, and they scaled trees just as their hunter-gatherer ancestors had done to avoid predation. This time, they weren't hiding from animals, but Bugs.

She caught glimpses of their clothing beneath their capes as they moved. A few were wearing old guard uniforms, the precursors to the pressure suits now used by Commandos. None of them were intact, holes and burn marks covered up with patches and slapdash repairs. They were old, maybe as old as the occupation. Had they been maintaining them all this time?

Others wore a mishmash of civilian clothes and makeshift armor with thick padding that likely served as a kind of stab vest to ward off Bug daggers. There had been no military armor at the time of the invasion - no ceramic plates that might dissipate the heat from a plasma bolt like the ones used today. Some had guard helmets as part of their suits, many of them with cracked or damaged visors that had been crudely patched with sealant, others sporting all manner of gas masks and respirators. There were masks used by welders and construction workers, industrial cleaners, even a mask from what looked like a clean suit - anything that might stand some chance of warding off Bug chemical weapons. Those that had bright colors or identifying markings had been painted over in shades of autumn to match their camouflage.

They wore hand-crafted rigs and bandoleers from which spare ammunition and tools dangled. They each had some kind of melee weapon hanging from a loop on their hip, not the traditional knives, but claw hammers and cruel blades that were shaped like needles to better penetrate stubborn carapaces. Xipa marveled again at the diversity of their weapons. Many were wielding guns of insect design that must have been claimed from their enemies - easily identifiable by their organic components. Curious. Neither the Valbara'nay nor the UNN had ever successfully maintained captured Bug technology for any length of time. Their weapons were alive, and they quickly died in captivity without proper care. Many of the strangers had spare plasma canisters, which suggested that they could keep them working long enough to be reloaded, at least. There was even one woman holding one of the long, unwieldy rifles used by the snipers, which explained how they had been able to fire the net at Bluejay.

Others were wielding laser rifles - old models with integrated backpacks, the same kind that Xipa remembered using on the day of the attack. They were just as old and as scuffed as the rest of their gear, the trailing cables repaired with electrical tape where the insulation had worn away. It was a miracle that the batteries still held a charge.

When Xipa had imagined survivors, they had taken the form of frightened flocks subsisting in hiding, not as an armed force that prepared ambushes. How many Bug squads had they taken out to arm themselves so? The scene that Bluejay had happened upon back in the restaurant - that must have been their doing too. How had they stayed hidden all this time? More importantly, how had they escaped the wrath of the occupying Bugs?