Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 13: Pavlov Response

Colin vomited shortly after awaking and was summarily pulled away from the group and set near the fire. Rodren hovered near him as he mumbled and made little to no sense.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group tried to keep calm and strategize.

Boldwick got an estimate for their help to arrive. Shortly into the night, they’d have their backup.

He declared it was best for them to conserve their strength and forced them to have a share of his food. The trial had ended the moment he had to call for help. For all intents and purposes, they were citizens of the Kingdom beyond the walls in a compromised position.

While Boldwick didn’t fear for his safety when faced with the horde of insects, his biggest fear was their numbers and his inability to protect them against the enemy. So he devised a strategy. He’d pull as many thrashing mites away from them as he could with fire-class spells.

That was only if the worst came to pass.

Their primary strategy was to hunker down and pray to the Goddess that nothing changed until help arrived.

Erec took in the gathered swarm outside. More thrashing mites than a man could count. Where had they all come from? It was as if they’d made the whole town into a nest, but that was impossible. They couldn’t have done so. Just the other night, he’d been scavenging; if hives were infesting this whole place, he would’ve noticed. Not to mention there wasn’t a chance in hell that sort of thing would slip past Boldwick, a Knight of the Verdant Oak.

[Well. This is an absurd situation. If only we’d collected a cadaver of those thrashing mites like I requested last night, I could model a better prediction of their behavior.]

Erec looked at the rest of the group. Even Garin was avoiding him, though it was hard to say if it was due to the mounting nerves of having thousands of unblinking insect eyes staring at them or if it was because he saw him lose it against Colin.

I wouldn’t have killed him. Erec was firm in that belief. He wanted to break into that helmet and then… and then…

And then what? Punch him? Was using the hatchet the best tool for that job? Could he sit here and lie to himself? Erec gripped his head with a hand. It kept coming back, that shadow of hate, the lingering force of envy and rage that hid inside. Since his mother was exiled, it hid there, out of sight. And then it flared when he lost his grip on the situation.

[You are aware that you can respond to me? None of your comrades are close enough to hear, nor are they paying attention to you. Funny how having a tangible threat staring you down from a distance distracts fleshy creatures from what’s near them. But I suppose that’s what your lot deserves for your silly evolution failing to manifest multiple processors to run different concurrent tasks.]

“I can’t lose it like that again, VAL. If I do… can… can you do that numbing thing and stop me?”

[Like what? Oh, you’re referring to your tantrum. That was chemically induced, albeit odd. After running through my data regarding my biological study of Subject 1—Subject 1 is you, for reference—that extreme adrenaline and testosterone level is impossible to produce naturally. I’ve drawn a singular conclusion based on the annoying gap in my dataset. That occurrence was, in short, an anomaly. Similar to those fancy glowing lines that spout fire, or the Rifts you’ve described, in other words, ‘magic’ as your simplistic Homosapien minds currently refer to it as. As if such a thing is the true root explanation for these abnormalities.]

What?

[Fine. If you throw another tantrum, I’ll put you in timeout. Does that please your child-like analysis of the situation? Now, if you’ve finished sulking about the past and the likelihood of your systemic anger issues no doubt derived from parental complexes, I suggest you move forward. Claim that helmet.] The Markos II gauntlet moved of its own accord—pointing a single finger towards Colin’s dented helmet on the ground. Not far from where Erec bashed his face in with a hatchet.

His legs shook, but he moved over, startled and not sure what to think about the information VAL shared. At least there was an assurance that VAL would stop him if he lost control like that again. Erec leaned down and grabbed the diamond-like helmet. It was the same light sky blue as the rest of Colin’s armor—smooth. No doubt engineers poured countless hours into the design.

And thanks to him, right there was a massive dent in the shape of his hatchet blade on the faceplate.

[Oh. This is an exciting design. Put it on your head.]

Erec hesitated, but, well. Who was going to stop him? Garin watched, but beneath the other boy’s Armor, it was hard to say what was going on with him. Nobody was going to say, ‘what are you doing,’ there wasn’t any point in putting another Armor’s helmet on. Without compatibility to the frame, you’d just be shoving a lump of steel on your head; in this case, since the visor depended on the frame, he wouldn’t even be able to see with it.

He went along with VAL’s demands. His vision went dark as the diamond-shaped Armor helmet slid over his head.

[Patching software. Exploring functionality—oh, how intriguing? A targeting display and a preliminary scanner to target and diagnose expected weak spots, along with a corresponding compendium of—of—of —]

Erec yanked the helmet off as soon as VAL stuttered. He wasn’t about to risk VAL shorting itself out through exposure to this complex Armor, especially not with those nanites running around inside of him loose. And well… he couldn’t imagine losing VAL. As terrifying as it was, having someone—it— constantly with him was almost a relief. It’d only been a day, but…

[Nooooooo! Put it back on, I demand it. This instant! You’ve corrupted my download. Bad intern! Gah, why do all humans ruin good things? It was interesting. Back on!]

“You’re fine?” Erec asked, fighting against the Markos II’s attempts to forcibly lift the helmet back on his head. VAL was being impatient, but he needed to ensure there wasn’t any kind of odd software corruption going on here.

[Yes! Now put that helmet back on! It has a biological compendium of various creatures from your ‘Rifts,’ I want a complete copy of that right now. This will accelerate several lines of my research, I’m sure of it. For the love of science, STOP HOLDING ME BACK.]

Erec slid the helmet back on.

[Good intern.]

The visual display flickered to life, and Erec gasped.

[You may thank Pavlov for the reward. Enjoy your treat. I have studying to do. Do not bother me unless those insects act up.]

Erec blinked as he took in the superior visual display, glancing at Sir Boldwick and seeing several highlighted portions of the man’s Armor. It diagnosed potential weapons, circuitry, and plausible design faults. There weren’t many, and the display wasn’t completely confident about its assessments, but the information was plenty. Lastly, it evaluated the man’s threat level: deadly.

Boldwick turned an eye toward Erec as if he knew he was being watched; he tilted his head. “Does it have a blind redundancy?”

He was, of course, referencing an optional redundancy present in some advanced helmets. Even without a connection to the frame, the redundancy allowed the helmet to transmit a primary visual display to the pilot. Essentially reducing the helmet to just a helmet.

It was only useful in a handful of circumstances, namely, if the Armor’s core stopped functioning, then you could at least still see through the helmet.

By that point, though, you were likely screwed and about to die. Since the blind redundancy required additional cameras and an independent power supply, it was rare. Add in the fact that some helmets opted for a manual visor. Engineers skipped it in favor of using the space and dedicated resources to provide more utility and features.

But no, that wasn’t the case here, somehow VAL patched it to work with his Markos II frame. A feat that would’ve taken weeks of an engineer’s time to even come close to achieving, swept away in a second.

“Yeah, it does.” Erec lied.

“Good, keep it then. You’ll need it.”

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

As the sun sank to the horizon, the bugs came to life. In a sudden burst, they all moved at once, closing the distance between their perimeter and the shelter. Boldwick swore—before stepping out into the fray.

Several glyphs appeared in rapid succession around his sword—fire wrapped around the length of the blade and extended outward a good ten feet. He swung the blade at the ground, scorching the earth as the flames cracked outward and cut a line of fire across the ground. The line rose fifteen feet high—before parting into a massive wave on either side.

A sea of inferno consumed the lead thrashing mites on the ground, setting buildings in the back of the town on aflame.

Those towards the edge of the burning sea began to take to the air, desperate to avoid fire. A majority of them shifted course and made their way towards Boldwick. He was the biggest threat and using fire.

That was the intent; Boldwick gave them a single salute and a quick nod before throwing himself further into the field. He drew more crimson glyphs as he sprinted into the open.

Plumes of fire, orbs of scorching heat, and even what looked to be a miniature sun got flung from the tip of his sword at the thrashing mites—an impressive repertoire of fire-class spells.

Erec braced himself as the second part of their strategy came into play—some of the insects ignored Boldwick and reached their shelter. Given the overwhelming number of them and the odd behavior, they’d prepared under the assumption that more than a few would still proceed with a direct attack.

It seemed he’d distracted more than they counted on but less than they’d hoped. Rodren took his place in front of the groaning Colin in the most secure corner of the shelter. He was the last line of defense.

Garin, Erec, and Lyotte formed a line to protect the corner, their weapons drawn as the buzzing of wings increased.

But the chittering—there was none. Not at all like last night. It was eerily quiet, aside from the actual physical movements of the thrashing mites.

The bugs swarmed in a relentless horde, flying in and trying to dart past to get at Colin. The cold and odd intelligence identified their weakest and adjusted to take advantage. Even given what happened before, Erec would be damned if he let these monsters kill that dick-bag.

So what if he, himself, might have tried killing him a few hours before?

His hatchet sung through the air, cleaving into a flying bug and splitting it in half; bright green gore spewed all over his armor. Another thrashing mite latched itself to his leg, tendrils slamming against a plate of aluminum wedged on to cover a weak point. Erec shook the mite free and gave it a firm kick, watching it sail into another buzzing cretin.

The air was thick with bugs in a short ten minutes of struggle. Lyotte turned her attention from the fight and began to weave a sizeable blue glyph.

This is bad. Erec was still shaky after the fight with Colin, but he felt his heart pumping again. He was getting closer to dropping off that edge. The bugs were never-ending, blotting out what little light the moon and fire pit provided.

The creatures covered Garin, but they didn’t bother him at all. They tore into his Armor with their tendrils, yet he welcomed it. He was letting them gather on him like fungus gnats to adhesive, only to grasp armfuls and crush them in an embrace. At some point, his friend lost his sword, and the crazy bastard realized it was easier just to crush them.

Erec kept to his hatchet, using what little speed he could to avoid getting covered with the things. If they managed to break his Armor, he’d be screwed.

[Left leg.]

The hatchet went where it was commanded, slicing the legs of the thrashing mite latched to the leg; it wriggled on the ground, twitching. He didn’t bother finishing it as another flew by his face. He swiped it out of the air.

Lyotte was a couple of seconds from finishing her glyph.

[Oh. Incoming, duck right.]

Erec crashed into the ground. Following VAL’s directions let him keep himself in check and think strategically; if he followed the robotic voice in his head, he’d stay away from losing control over the battle. A scenario he desperately wanted to avoid at all costs.

He didn’t expect a queen to come barreling into the spot he’d been. It turned towards him and hissed, flails raising as it took another leap.

[Thicker exoskeleton. Your hatchet won’t cut through easily; aim for joints if possible. And if you can, the back abdomen is a massive vulnerability. Though, if you hit there, please try to keep the contents of your stomach inside. Spewing it in this confined space would violate several of our company’s health and sanitary requirements.]

Easier said than done. The queen landed on top of him, causing his legs to buckle. It’s heavy. It was half his size, yet the awkward shifting of the hostile creature and the fact it weighed as much as a boulder gave him trouble. But he was strong. Erec strained and dead-lifted the monster—the Markos II groaned from the weight and pounding of the twelve fleshy appendages. Now. With a grunt, he chucked the queen. Its back smashed into the ground. Already it scrambled to turn itself over.

Too slow.

Erec leaped forward—hatchet lost somewhere in the brief wrestling match. It didn’t matter. He smashed a fist into the queen’s abdomen.

Eggs spewed out in a viscera of sulfuric-smelling innards. Erec gagged at the scent and texture, withdrawing his hand almost immediately. The queen flailed on the ground; there was a terrible plopping noise as seed-sized eggs bubbled out of the wound.

Erec pulled away to find his weapon

[Well done, buckeroo, you’re made of sterner stuff than I thought!]

Lyotte’s spell completed as a barrier of ice sprang up over the entire corner—dividing Rodren and Colin from the bugs. It was a temporary measure. Though thick, the ice could be bashed apart, and after some time, they’d have to break it or risk the air running out inside. Neither Colin nor Rodren had air-supply systems. So, it was a matter of defending and surviving for as long as needed.

A minute later, a whip of fire slammed its way inside of the building and lashed through twenty of the insects harassing them. The rest inside of the room turned their attention away and sped off towards the source of the attack.

Boldwick turned the corner and glanced at the scene. “Well done so far. Keep it up.” He shook his head. “Help is on its way. I got a radio message. They’re an hour out. Hold on until then; I’ll cut through when I can to relieve pressure and pull as many as possible. Until then, work together.”

With that, he sprang off back into the fray.

The reprieve lasted for a grand total of three minutes before the swarm renewed their assault on the trio.