Stray Cat Strut

Chapter Nine - Eyy

“There is rich, there is wealthy, there is classy. They are not mutually exclusive. To be a good wife, you must embody all three in due moderation.”

--A Future Wife’s Guide to Presentation and Poise, 2045

***

River Heights was a nice place. The road had a thing in the middle with little trees in it. The sidewalks were wide. Every house I walked past was either an older home made of glass and stainless or a newer mansion made of reinforced concrete and sharp angles. They almost all had a gate, but the fences were a few steps back, leaving enough room for some grass to grow.

I bet they had some sort of home-owner’s association kind of thing.

I bet they actually owned their homes too.

“Myalis, do you have any idea where what’s his name is?”

The nearest Vanguard? He is three hundred metres to your north-east.

A bit more to the right, around the intersection.

I headed that way, only pausing to take in a yard where all the hedges had recently been trimmed to look like animals. This place was rich. It was a different sort of wealth than I’d occasionally seen from far below in New Montreal. This wasn’t supercars and designer brands rich. It felt more understated than that.

I guess it was a class thing, but I wasn’t in any position to make much commentary about that.

In the end, I was here for a purpose. Save the city. That meant saving the city’s people. It included the people in these little mansions as much as the folk living Downtown.

Fuck me if I wasn’t conflicted. These rich fucks here had done the right thing. They’d prepared to face an invasion. I walked by a checkpoint in the middle of the road. It was a small fixed base, with enough room under it for a car to drive while militiamen sat above manning stationary guns. The checkpoint was fixed to the ground by cement bases that were clearly already sunk into the earth long ago.

They’d prepared for this, or for something like it. It was almost unfair to ask that they relocate to Downtown.

At the same time, Downtown was more important. There were more people there. The sheer human value made it a clear choice.

“Hey, Myalis, have the people living here been doing anything skeevy? Like, I don’t know, keeping kids in their basements, eating people, that kind of stuff?”

A cursory scan suggests nothing of the sort, no. Though there are plenty of suggestions of white-collar crime and possibly business fraud.

“Darn. it would make it a lot easier to burn this entire place down if the locals were dickbags.”

You’re in a difficult position then. Did you want to talk it out? I’m a surprisingly good listener. I am also smarter than you.

I laughed. “No doubt. Yeah. Look, I’m responsible for this shithole. That means I need to keep as many people safe as possible using what I have on hand. So, that means making sure the aliens don’t hit us too hard and then arranging things so that we can hit back.”

I understand.

“Now, these fucks have got it all figured out. They basically don’t need me here, which is fine. Downtown’s messy though. The defences there look like crap, the people don’t look prepared, and I imagine they’re not in the best of moods.”

There is certainly a growing morale issue.

“Right. Now... if River Heights is calling the shots for Downtown and prioritising their own safety, then that’ll make my work harder, yeah?”

Yes.

I stopped walking. “So I’ll tell them to fuck off.” I nodded to myself. “They’ve done well for themselves, so they can keep handling themselves. We’ll stop supplying them with any more than they need while focusing on keeping Downtown safe. Once we start hunting down the local hives, that’ll help everyone everywhere.”

That seems like a perfectly workable solution.

“Thanks,” I said as I started walking again.

You’re welcome.

“You... didn’t actually say anything helpful there, you know. Don’t need to sound so smug.”

Ah, but I correctly predicted that you would eventually draw a reasonable and workable plan if you only spent some time thinking about it, without needing additional input on my part.

I scowled. “And that makes you feel all smug inside?”

My genius is as unparalleled as your predictability, Catherine.

What a bitch. I chuckled as I continued on. There was a small group of militia guys up ahead, taking a coffee break next to what looked like a very normal and misplaced food truck. Had it flown all the way here across restricted airspace just to deliver lukewarm coffee and sandwiches?

The vanguard you’re looking for is within that group ahead.

So, the new guy was slumming it with the locals? Cool. I flicked off my invisibility and walked over while trying to figure out which one of them was the samurai. It wasn’t all that hard. The militiamen were all in army-surplus style uniforms. Jumpsuits with bulletproof vests on top, all covered in pouches and with plenty of gear hanging off their belts.

The only guy without any of that was standing to one side. He was a massive guy, easily half a head taller than I was, and I wasn’t the shortest of girls. He wasn’t just tall though, his chest was huge, and he was quite proud to show it off, judging by his shirtlessness.

A couple of the soldiers noticed me and one smacked him on the arms and gestured in my direction.

“Oh, hey!” he said. “You’re the Cat woman!” He moved around the group and headed my way, an arm extending to shake.

Not a normal meat arm either. At some point this guy had replaced his arms with a pair of massive prosthetics. The hands were all metal, but the arms were covered in artificial musculature under a thin transparent film. Every joint gleamed and the corded material beneath looked like it was straining even with just a simple gesture. They were probably Protectorate-made. That, or Johnny here had spent all of his money on the arms and didn’t leave any over to buy a shirt.

“Hey,” I said. “Stray Cat, apparently in charge. You’re Johnny?”

“Ey, that’s me, babe.”

“Uh,” I said. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

We stared at each other for a moment, then I snorted. “Okay, whatever. Call me babe if you want, but I’ve got a girlfriend already, and you’re not my type.”

“Not even with these guns?” he asked. Then he raised his mechanical arms and flexed, the artificial musculature within straining while servos whined audibly.

“It’s not that equipment that disqualifies you,” I said. “I came over to check on you. Or that’s what I told that Baker woman. I’m really here to see how things are going here. You alright so far?”

“I’m fine, and so’s that Baker lady. I love a well-organised woman, you know?”

“I guess. Hot secretary was never really my thing.”

Johnny shook his head. “You’re missing out, Cat, babe. A nice woman in a nice suit, telling you what to do, all stern and forceful. And did you see her thighs? Damn.”

This was not the conversation I thought I’d be having.

“You know what, I didn’t actually look.”

He gave me a weird look, backing up a half step to side-eye me. “Babe, you sure you're gay?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” I confirmed. “Right, I came here to talk, but not about that.”

“Can’t think of anything more important,” he said.

“What about saving lives?” I asked.

“Ah, yeah, making all the babes thankful that me and my guns were there to make them safe.” He flexed. Again.

I had no doubts about this guy being a samurai, even setting aside Myalis’ confirmation. No one else could afford to be so strange at a time like this. “You’ve been patrolling River Heights with the militia?” I asked. “How’s the place holding up?”

“Well me and Sprout keeping things nice and safe, we haven’t had any trouble at all. A few plants tried to sneak in, but most get taken out by the auto-defences long before we get to them, and Sprout’s stuff takes care of the rest. Lot less work than keeping Downtown safe.”

“That’s tougher?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, constant fighting. There’s always something that’s blowing up and the aliens have a million ways to sneak in. Get to put my guns to good use.”

“If this place is so safe, then why are you here? Just need a break?”

“Nah, the nice lady asked, and Sprout agreed that one of us should be here. One of us isn’t worth more than the dozens of guards they send to Downtown in exchange for us staying here.”

“Right,” I said. That might even be true. I certainly couldn’t beat a dozen competently trained soldiers after only a day or two of being a samurai, at least not when it came to playing a long-term defensive game.

Still, I didn’t like it.

“I think I’m going to have to renegotiate that one,” I said.

***

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