Fieldwork Notes of a Combat Vet

Knock knock knock.
…
Knock knock.
“Alanis, you in there?”
The young girl shielded her eyes from the early morning sunlight with cupped hands as she tried to sneak a glimpse into her best friend’s window. Wispy cirrus clouds stretched across the pastel sky towards the east, and to the west, the brightest stars of the night had yet to fade away. The grass was still wet with dew, and the earliest risers among the songbirds were out along the lawns nipping at worms and bugs, or in the trees proudly regaling tales of nights passed. The air blew crisp and cool, but Rasselas wasn’t one to chill quickly. She was about to start up knocking again, but just then, there was a small stir from the other side of the window.
“Password, please?”
She looked to and fro down either side of the street to ensure there were no other prying eyes or listening ears to be found, then leaned in just a little closer to whisper,
“Kingfisher.”
“...Correct.”
There was a low, 60hz hum for a few seconds, then a thunk and the light rattle of a crank chain as the garage door began to lift. The girl backed away from the threshold by a good few feet. As the door rose along its track, more and more of the room beyond was revealed. Just like any other average garage, upon a concrete floor could be seen typical commodities such as oil pans, service jacks, engine fluids and the occasional loose tool – as the door ascended further, however, the walls were revealed to be painted in a gentle shade of periwinkle, and the various shelves along the spaces perimeter were strung with fairy lights and littered with books and art supplies and all manners of naturey knick-knacks and craft projects. This was all grand, really, but to the unfamiliar eye it would have been near impossible to focus on compared to the form that occupied the middle of the room.
Carefully washed down tread links with rubber track shoes, a sandy beige prow, well used tow ropes and cables, and most glaring of all, a 120mm smooth bore gun. Pointed directly at Rasselas.
Rasselas didn’t mind for a second, however. Hers was just about the same – just rifle bore, instead.
Both tanks stared at each other for a good few seconds with unwavering resolve – the Challenger 2 outside with her optics of deep fiery red, and the Merkava MK 4 inside with a shade of rich sapphire that, in all fairness, complemented her walls quite well. For a moment, it almost felt as though this was a staring contest that could go on forever. Eventually, though, Alanis let slip a chuckle, and both girls all but physically fell over laughing – Rasselas swung her turret away and clutched the base of her mantlet as if to try and stifle herself, and  Alanis rocked back on her suspension.
“Okay! Okay!” Alanis finally reached a hand out and shook the other tank for a moment, “Enough of that! What’re you out here for, got plans?”
“Oh, you bet!” Rasselas beamed, and began to reverse back out of the small gravel driveway into the street, wheels squeaking and pebbles popping in and out of her treads. “Randy gets up in an hour, and when he does, he said last night that he’s gonna give us some extra allowance money for until we get our checks from Mr. Mullins - for the field work at his place.”
“Wait, really?” Alanis elevated her barrel and turned her turret slightly off to the side somewhat inquisitively, and drove out from the cover of her garage to follow after, “I thought he was done giving us pocket money.”
“Apparently not. His words,” There was a slight audible crackle that began to populate her aural actuator, and her own voice was temporarily replaced with that of a man’s. “A few of the neighbors have really started appreciating your work around town lately – so have I, so I thought I’d give you girls something extra for the week. Don’t use it on anything serious, okay?” The sentence ended with a light chuckle, and the crackle was cut off with the end of the voice splice.
The Merkava exhaled a brief puff of air from her forward vents, as if a sort of wordless exclamation, and replied, “Yeah, I really thought he was done doing that – guess not! How much did he say?"
“He hasn’t yet. I figured I just grab you now, then kill time for a little bit so we’ll already be up and about by the time his alarm goes off.”
“And that means-“
“Maximized time for… THIS!” The Challenger suddenly lashed out with one of her arms – Alanis did her best to counter it with her split-second reaction time, but unfortunately, it was reaction time that her peer shared. Rasselas’s hand made contact with the top of her right fender, and as quickly as an old-vesseled main battle tank could, she kicked her engine into its fastest gear and high-tailed it down the road. Backwards. “You’re it!”
* * *
Early morning light had just begun to sneak in through the blinds, and a small noisemaker on the floor next to the nightstand played an ambient track of the gentle pattering of rain. Around it was an only somewhat messy room, with the not-quite-dirty-enough-for-washing clothes strewn about on the dressers and office chair, the half-sorted boxes of old memorabilia whose owner had yet to decide their worth, and just enough loose fuzzies on the olive green shag carpet to make one think, “y’know, I should probably get the sweeper, but… it could also wait for tomorrow.” The walls were adorned with a charming, albeit somewhat dated red and beige wallpaper, and the curtains loosely hung in front of the two windows were only picked out with a slight effort to match the flooring.
Gently, the hollow veneered wooden door was pushed open from the hall, and a pudgy little merle dachshund poked its nose through the threshold. It sniffed the air in the room for a moment before pushing the rest of the way through the door and trundling his way over to the stairs on the bed made just for him. At the top step, he hopped onto the burgundy sheets, and lifted his paws high to combat the plush comforter as he journeyed to the head of the man who lay asleep.
“Oh - oh no! Kiss attack! No!” The man laughed, and reached tiredly at the little dog that’d begun to lick his cheek, scratchy with the bristles of a 5 o’ clock shadow. At last successfully grabbing the small canine, he lifted them up and gingerly shook them side to side. “Now I really need to wash my face, you little jerk.”
He planted their paws down onto the bed beside him, and stepped out of bed into a pair of brown suede slippers. His grey t-shirt was slack with age, and on the front was silk-screened the logo of one of his friend’s auto-body shop, and on his lower half was simply a black and blue flannel pair of sweatpants. The little dachshund trotted along at his feet as he shuffled into the kitchen and began to fix himself a pot of coffee; rinse the coffee grounds from the day before out of the percolator, grab the bulk tin out of the cupboard to refill it, grab the creamer out of the fridge – his soul wasn’t quite inky black enough for black coffee at his age just yet. As the percolator had just began to gurgle, he decided to reach out over his countertop to slide open the window. The birdsong was always nice this time of day, right? The cool air began to seep in, and he took a deep breath. Yes, truly this seemed like it was going to turn out to be a fine d-
SCRREEEEEEEEECHHH
Just his luck.
“Hey! HEY! Girls, slow down before someone makes a noise complaint!”
“Sorry Mordecai! Be back before dark, promise!” Alanis shouted behind her, just before disappearing down the side road that Rasselas had careened into.
He was half way to climbing up his countertop as he hollered after the two ex war machines, and it was almost tempting to commit to the act and jump out the window to give chase. Almost. Once upon a time, he naively entertained the idea of chasing after them, but when yours and the neighbor’s girl can both run at least 35 miles per hour on pavement, it’s a fantasy that dies off quick. Now, there wasn’t much he could do except pray that they didn't deal any significant property damage or get speeding tickets before they calmed down. He might as well stay home this Sunday morning. If the cops get called again, they’ll at least know where to find him.
“…Damn. What are we gonna do with them, Fisher? Huh?” He asked the dachshund a little hopelessly.
* * *
In terms of small town names, the one they happened to find themselves in had a fairly fitting one: Hazard, in Perry County, Kentucky. Before the population reshuffle started, it had a modest population of around 4,400, but today, that number was closer to 7,000, the vast majority being humans. As a matter fact, last Rasselas and Alanis checked, they were the only MAI in town. Oh well, all the more space for them to tear through the streets! Rasselas’s treads screeched and shed rubber at the speed she cut the street’s corner, and with what miniscule lead she had on Alanis – whom had an average higher road speed than her, alarmingly – she took the risk of turning herself around before proceeding down a side street adjacent to the main road. In the crisp and quaint hour of six AM, the residents of Broadway street were abruptly awakened by the roar of two unfortunately, unfortunately familiar Hydroengines.
“So where do we have to go in an hour?” Alanis asked the Challenger 2 after they’d cleared a fair distance, and began to tear down a side street.
“We can always check up on Mr. Mullin’s fields, right? Pretend we’re there to scare off the deer from his crops, I don’t know. See you there!” She took another turn down a sharp-winding dirt road, and floored her pedal.
“Not if get there first!” Alanis shouted ahead to her, and there was a deep clunk before her engine spooled higher, and she began to close the gap between the two of them.
“No!” The Challenger 2 did her best to stave her off, but it wasn’t long before her lead was overtaken. “Ugh! You beat me every time, it’s not fair!”
“Get a better engine maybe, not my problem!” She put a finger to one of her turret optics and streaked it downward like she was dragging on her eyelid.
Thinking that was that, Alanis sped off and disappeared down a side road that stretched out west. For a good few seconds, her engine was audible running just as hard as before, then, it was audible that she was... braking. Very, very hard. Road block? Some dumb signage? Rasselas scoffed at the thought of either; this was her chance to retake the lead again. Maintaining her speed, she rounded the bend that her friend had disappeared past and – oh.
Make that two tanks coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. Even past the Merkava’s hulkng silhouette, she could spot the flashing red and blue light bar of officer Campbell’s squad car. She couldn’t decide if she was supposed to be horrified or relieved. On one hand, officer Campbell was arguably the “best” cop to get pulled over by in town, if you wanted to look at it that way. By looks, he was a physically fit man that couldn’t be older than Randy and Mordecai, whom were both in their early thirties now. His hair was a fair blond, and was styled in a barebones buzz-cut. In general he was a fairly nice guy, who’d secured a positive reputation among the townspeople as a “model public servant.” Most importantly, however, he was an ex infantryman from the war with firsthand experience with MAI on the field. That meant, among just a handful of the town’s other residents, he was a little more sympathetic toward them than most. Rasselas, once fully stopped, paused for a moment for courtesy’s sake before driving – slowly – to sidle up with Alanis to speak with him. Campbell had his clipboard out, not a good sign, but here’s hoping, and he was idly chewing on the end of his pen pretending not to notice the tank’s approach until she’d parked in her new attentive position.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised.” He sighed, eyes unmoving form their place on the paper, “Someone really aught’a start writin’ you two speedsters up, for all the running around town ya do, not even speaking of the road damage.” He took the pen from his mouth and pointed broadly with it towards their treads. Both AI looked down somewhat sheepishly as if to follow, despite the fact their own tread-faces fell within their blind spots.
“You did end up getting tracks pads like I asked for last time, at least. Yinz have that going for ya.”

“Yeah, we did good on you there, right?” Rasselas spoke first, some optimism in her tone, “Come on – I swear you won’t find us driving like this out here again, we just got a little carried away, we were just playing tag!”
“Oh, right-” Alanis turned to look at her friend, optics grinning, and promptly smacked the front of her fender. “You’re it.”
“Timing, Al!” She grabbed the Merkava’s hand and shoved it back over to her own hull. After taking a moment to brush off her fender, she pushed the dust out of her front vents in a sigh and continued. “Like I said, when you let us off with a warning, we listen to you every time, right? Really, you’ll never see us misbehaving on this road again, okay?”
She pushed her optics into a hopeful, awkward sort of grin as Campbell looked her up and down, and put a hand to his hip. Now, this is a very careful game she’s playing here; if she can play her cards just right, read the room well enough, she can maybe, just maybe get them wormed out of thi-
“On this road? Yeah, you listened to half of it, but y’know what you two still haven’t done for all the times I pulled yinz over?” He pulled two slips of paper off his clipboard and stuck them to the closest part of each tanks’ hull, and smiled. “Slowed the hell down. Keep those safe for your old men, will ya?”
It was hard to dumbfound an MAI – let alone two at the same time – but these two sure acted the part as officer Campbell strolled back to his cruiser with a smug little wave, and stepped into Laurent’s driver seat. ...Oh, right. The squad car was CoreAegis, too. They turned their bar lights off, and began to maneuver an odd little three-point turn to head off in the other direction, pale lavender optics occasionally shooting them a neutral glance. They were the real quiet type, civilian born, and the product of some short-lived program briefly after the war to integrate some more LAI into civilian life. They were... not received by the public all that well, so less than two hundred ever made it out around the country. Despite this, the people that they were paired off with tended to warm up to them fairly quick, even the civvies. As they finally straightened up and took off down the road, at about a hundred feet out, they tried to whisper something like, “I just don’t think they’d have learned if you never actually followed through with it. Don’t be so soft on them all the time, they’re grown.”
“WE CAN STILL HEAR YOU!” Rasselas shouted with hands superficially cupped at the sides of her mantlet, and she skidded her treads out on the gravel to kick up a few rocks toward them. Laurent and Campbell pretended to ignore her, but she could see the pupil of Laurent’s rear optic ever so slightly constricting at the comment. After they disappeared from view – that took a while - she peeled the yellow paper slip from her front glacis plate and pretended to scrutinize it for longer than a millisecond, then looked at Alanis as she did the same.
“We’re not-”
“-showing these to Randy and Mords.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
While the two were parked, they had a great deal of time to process the scenery around them. It was a rare stretch of relatively flat land in contrast to the mountains that loomed beyond, and it was mostly tree-less, unused pasture. The ragweed towered in full bloom competing with the goldenrod and milkweeds, while smaller flowers like daisies, Queen Anne’s lace, buttercups, and so many more they didn’t even have the experience to recognize filled in the dense carpet of life beneath. Bugs of all shapes, sizes and clades jumped and flew between stalks and flowers with a certain clumsiness that was graceful in its own unique regard, and as the sun heated away the morning’s clouds with the full force of its still ascending light, the whole scene below almost appeared to put off its own vibrant halo of glow. This was a creed of effortless, natural beauty that had existed alongside both AI for their entire lives; long before either was even a fathomable idea, and it would exist long after they had rejoined the earth as formless rust and dirt. Now, however, in their first summer as truly free individuals, no longer held by the shackles of war, it was if they were experiencing it in its entirety for the very first time.
Even if summer was nearing its end, its curiosities never seemed to tire. There, flittering between the common milkweeds, Alanis had begun to eye a butterfly that was particularly captivating. Its wings shown in mostly an inky, matte black, but towards the ends, it transitioned into a deep, rich sparkling blue. Blue? Not truly, just a very carefully evolved trick of the eyes when the light reflected from its surface, she could deduce. Nevertheless, she hadn’t ever seen one before, and it was quickly becoming an item of great interest.
“Hey, R?” She asked somewhat aloof once she managed to peel her dominant optics away, and continued when the Challenger 2 returned her look. “I think I know what I wanna do with my cut of the fifty dollars.”
“Something to do with - ?”
“We should buy some butterfly nets.”
“I think we’re running on the same wavelength again.” Rasselas grinned, and her engine growled as she began to turn her hull around back towards town. “Glad we got that all figured out in time for Randy’s alarm. Where are we gonna get butterfly nets, though? I guess I’ve never really thought about those things as something to buy yet.”
“Not sure, we can just ask your brother when we get to his place, I figure.” Alanis shrugged, and drove off after her back into town.
Now that they weren’t barreling through town at top speed, it was just a little easier to get a good look at the neighborhoods that they passed through so often. One of the first houses to always greet them coming from Mr. Mullin’s farmlands was Dr. Brewer’s place. Given that it was somewhat on the outskirts of town, it lent him the ability to buy up a sizeable chunk of property; in just a few months, some of the residents would likely be knocking on his door for permission to hunt, as a matter of fact. Just last year according to him, Mrs. Simmon’s girl managed to take down a gorgeous eight-point during archery season towards the south end of his woods. Rasselas and Alanis had been on his property a few times, but rather than for the hunting, it was to help pull out some old trees from near the thickets into the front yard to cut into firewood. Very nice area! – Before they turned that portion of the forest into a mud pit for a month or so with their treads. …It looked fine now, but Brewer wasn’t too pleased, initially, with the unavoidable after the fact.
Going further along that same road, and entering into the more dense portions of the residential neighborhoods, they’d pass the home of the Hensleys’. A humble, weathered little two-story home sandwiched among others not much different from it, yet, in contrast, the trim and doors were painted in a bright lime green in an odd complement to its beige siding. It had a lovely garden out front as well, where about this time of year the zucchini, cucumbers, and tomatoes were starting to ripen in near overabundance. Overabundance to the occasional point that neighbors may find not-all-that mysterious, unprompted bags of produce on their front doorsteps. It was a little early in the day yet, but on the weekends it was a common sight to see the three kids out playing in the yard or sometimes in the street. It was here that the two MAI learned so many of the schoolyard-esque games that they were familiar with now. The first day Mrs. Hensley saw her two youngest boys out in the front yard scribbling chalk drawings onto Alanis’s sideskirts, and her eldest girl comparing bows affixed with hairbands on Rasselas’s gun, she about had a heart attack on her own doorstep! She called officer Campbell, luckily, and he was able to calm her down and explain – She’d never seen a real military AI before, was all. After that, she and her husband ended up being an awful lot nicer than the McKinney’s; they’d been friendly with their kids once upon a time, but when their parents found out, they’d gotten grounded just for associating with the two of them. Real unfortunate, but they were just scared, they didn’t know any better.
Now approaching their home street, they passed a little single-story ranch house; faded baby blue siding, white trim, bordered by a mulch garden bed that’d seen better days. A young couple from Louisiana had just recently moved in from the relocation program, but in the time between the MAIs’ and their arrival, there had once been an old man that lived there. Just like them, he was a veteran, but rather than the third world war, he’d served in Vietnam. Rasselas had met him the first time just weeks after she and Randy had moved in; he was out in the front yard plucking weeds from between his heliotropes with an old radio playing rock and roll cassettes. She said good morning, and after he startled, he said it back, and began some small talk. The next day, she brought her brand new friend Alanis over, and the almost daily tradition was started of visiting to exchange stories about their times in combat. Rasselas and Alanis appreciated finally having peers to vent to, and Mr. Nguyen was just appreciative of having company over to pass the days after having been living alone for so long.
132 days are how many times they’d visited with each other in that yard, and the stories shared numbered almost six-fold. Mr. Nguyen retold in great detail the bloody battles in the jungle, the jets’ engines howling and the helicopters’ blades pulsing overhead, the organic folly of deafening gunfire and the grinding of tank tracks and more. Rasselas and Alanis, although for both their time in the service was little, their infallible audio-graphic memory allowed them to remember every engagement they had ever fought; their first fires upon the enemy, their first kills, their first wounds, the deaths of their first friends… To recall such things was tender, but to allow them to be forgotten was worse.
It was rather difficult to offer snacks in thanks for two instruments of war sitting in on your stories – instead, the old man had opted to create more lasting gifts for them instead. Even now, they still both had flowers in their front yards that came from his very own garden, small pieces of war memorabilia like patches, buttons, and equipment, and more origami cranes than they could count on their shelves (That’s a lie. There’s 174 between the two of them.). Today, however, Mr. Nguyen had since passed. Rasselas could never help but to peer into the old house’s windows every time she drove by, almost trying to convince herself that she swore she caught a glimpse of him in the kitchen putting together a quick meal, or in the living room reading the Sunday paper. It would never again be true, however. She was all too well acquainted with death to have any sense of whimsy, or optimistic imagination left behind for it. The Challenger noticed her speedometer lowering as she came parallel to the windows, and returned pressure to her throttle before it was too terribly noticeable to the young woman preparing breakfast in the kitchen inside.
What’s done is done, as they say, and life goes on. Speaking of which, Rasselas’s house was finally coming into view, and it seemed like Randy was already standing outside. In the further developing morning light, from the end of the street, they could see that he was already dressed for the day; typical khaki cargo shorts, a pair of once white, now dirty tennis shoes joined by calf-length black socks, and a light blue and white floral button-up with wooden buttons. Minimally cut since the war’s end, his reddish blond hair was beginning to threaten to cover his ears and eyes, but he never seemed to care enough to go further into town for a cut more than he cared for taking a drive out to whatever local swap-meet was going on. Well, regardless of how casually he was dressed, there was something about the look on his face that didn’t sit well with either AI.
“Did you ask him to be waiting for us?” Alanis shot the other tank an odd glance from behind.
“No – seeing me gone, he probably figured I’d still be back in time for our little agreement.” Rasselas shrugged, and the both of them drove on until they were able to park on the curb along the front yard. As they both slowed to stop, it occurred to them that – Randy was possibly, mildly displeased. He put his thumbs into his pockets, and slowly walked up to where they had stopped.
“Mordecai told me that you two were going a little fast this morning.” He spoke bluntly, and eyed the dominant optics of each tank.
Alanis’s pupils shrank for a split second in a kneejerk reaction, but she quickly corrected herself. Anyone else may have been none the wiser, but he already knew that Randy wasn’t so easily caught off guard. His own eyes met hers for a second, and he just sighed.
“Did anyone see you besides him?”
“I don’t think so.” Rasselas replied in a feigned innocent calm, “At least no one gave us any trouble – we just went to Mr. Mullin’s fields and back.”
“No one did?”
“No.”
“No one at all, not even Mr. Campbell?”
“Nope.”
“I thought he patrolled that spot on the weekends.”
“Must’ve been busy somewhere else, we didn’t see him.”
The two stared at each other a good few seconds – a considerable stretch for one – Randy maintained a stern, almost accusatory glare as he looked up into the face of his little sister, and Rasselas did well to keep her air of calm and slight indifference. After so long, Randy conceded. He gently slapped his hands to the fronts of his legs, and slowly spun around on the heel of one foot. The war of petty mind games may be won today, but who is to say that it will ever be over….
“Okay, fine, I’m gonna trust you. THIS time. I assume you already told Alanis what’s up if you dragged her along this early in the morning.” He reached into his left pocket to root out his wallet among all the other things he tended to keep there for the day. “Do any brainstorming what you’re gonna spend it on?”
“Definitely, yes!” Alanis spoke up, “We saw some really pretty butterflies at Mr. Mullin’s when we went by, we were figuring we might get some bug nets.”
“Gonna be little field biologists today, huh? Maybe if you find anything interesting you can bring it up with Ms. Charser on the south side of town. I think I remember her being into bugs, or something.” He rambled somewhat idly, as he produced his wallet and began counting a few bills – mostly 20s, 2010 issue, 2008 issue, some 2011s, all fairly well worn to an appropriate degree for their ages.
“Ohh I do remember her!” Rasselas quipped, “When we went to the town fair earlier in the spring to do those wagon trail rides for the school fundraiser, she brought her nieces out. They passed us a few times over the night, and Alanis said she did hear her talking about insect conservation and thought it was neat.”
“Then it sounds like you have your day pretty well figured out, especially if you can get talking with her.” Finally, the man extended his hand out with two twenties and a ten in cash. “I know it’s pocket change to you these days, but-“
“Oh no, no! This is plenty, you didn’t even have to do this at all; I promise, we appreciate it lots.” Alanis grinned.
“I mean, if you think it ain’t much, you could always-“
“Don’t push it before you take it.” Randy cut Rasselas off, and smiled with his lips pulled thin, waving the bills in his hand.
Rasselas pushed up her optics in her best attempt to copy the expression, and pinched the cash between her thumb and index finger – just one of which was about as wide as the man’s wrists. In the split second she had between grabbing them and replying, as was usual for well adapted human conversation, she gave them another quick visual inspection. Sure these aren’t fake, this isn’t a prank? Last she’d want was to wait until they were at the store to figure that out. …Nah, he’s not that much of an asshole – wait, this is the one that’s supposed to have a band, right ? – no, no, it’s fine, these seem legit.
“Very charitable of you, brother dearest. We will spend this most dutifully.” She replied in jest with a tone mimicking a clenched jaw, and opened up her driver’s hatch to stow the bills somewhere in her hull. Using her internal turret optic, she watched her utility arm place the bills into a small bag affixed to the left of her steering column before returning her attention outside again. “Oh right, too, where would we be able to buy bug catching stuff around here anyways?”
Randy shot her an unamused mix between a half-assed grin and a snarl, then looked around either end of the town in a somewhat indiscriminant manner.
“I don’t know, I’ve never exactly been on the market for that stuff in recent times.” He shrugged, “You could always just try one of the general stores downtown – they always seem to have dinky little toy aisles in them, or maybe the local bait and tackle, but they might not be open this early on a Sunday.”
“Welp, one of those will just have to do – come on, Alanis beat you there -!” She cut herself off for a moment, in a fraction of a second so vividly remembering the little sticker that she had haphazardly shoved into her hull, and stole a glance as Randy’s face was actively contorting into an expression of irritation. She had initially brought her arms up in a gesture that hinted her readiness to run off, but slowly lowered them. Putting on a strained, forced grin, she corrected herself. “We wiiiiill drive there at a reasonable pace!”
“Yeah, I was just about to say I would have preferred that anyways.” Alanis played along somewhat more convincingly. She began to turn out of her parking spot along the curb, and pick up speed to a reasonable driving pace down the road. “Let’s go try that tackle shop first, they might have some heavier duty stuff that would be easier to use.”
* * *
7am now, the town was beginning to wake up more and more as residents left in their cars to their hourly jobs. As the two tanks cruised through narrow neighborhood roads, they’d sometimes be pushed to idle off to the side as the occasional little tin can sedan approached from forward or behind, and wait until they’d safely passed before they could continue on. Even if cars had been around for quite a while, Hazard wasn’t ever much of a place built for them. The automotive industry, however, didn’t have much of a track record for caring about how their products would impact the communities where they drove. The thought crossed Alanis’s mind again – not terribly long ago, she’d heard talk from the alliance and their regional representative that mixed transit options were going to be pushed alliance-wide – bike lanes, buses, trains, the works. This, however, would be pretty far off for a little town like theirs, and she wondered lightly how they would go about roads just for tanks, if they were so inclined. Eventually, in an awkward stop-and-go method compounded by the cars gradually beginning to share their route, they got onto a wider road that would take them right to the bait and tackle they’d settled on before.
“Oh, I think we’re about to drive up on it to the left here.” Rasselas turned her turret slightly to peer at Alanis over her side. “Randy said no promises that it’s open, though.” Slowing their pace as they approached the building, it slowly came to their attention that there weren’t any lights on inside, and getting closer yet, they could read the fine print on the hours infographic – Sunday: 12-6PM.
“Darn, better luck next time, I guess.” Alanis raised her gun in a shrug as they came and went past the shop.
“Yeah sure, but next time isn’t useful to us, we need those nets now!” The Challenger huffed. “Come on, we’ll go downtown. They’ll probably have better taste in when to have fun.”
Luckily getting into downtown, the roads were plenty wide enough to accommodate everyone. Just like much of the eastern reaches of the US, Hazard sported a quaint little historical downtown with tightly packed storefronts – all interconnected, but each adorned with its own distinct stonework and decorative flourishes. This time of year, each now-antique lamp post supported a pair of large hanging baskets overflowing with delicate little pink and white flowers, and artificial garland was wrapped in spirals along their full heights. Was it tradition? A new development? Who knew, they hadn’t been there long enough to figure that out – it was cute, anyways. Down to the individual business, some put in a little work of their own to keep with the theme, and brought out their own potted flowers or standing planters. A personal favorite set-up for both AI was Tigg’s, a little coffee shop on one of the corners along main street, where the employees had each made their own little fairy gardens that they added trinkets to regularly.
“There, that one!”
Rasselas pointed ahead, toward an old, rickety looking little building. It stood alone and detached from the bulk of the street’s businesses, about a block’s distance away from the last interconnected storefront. Perhaps once upon a time, it’d been painted, but now all that was there of its exterior was bare, treated wood; darkened with age. Overall, it carried the energy of a quaint little small town general store, just as it should’ve, with a flat, slanted roof, simple four-paned windows on either side of its main doors, and a solid wood canopy that spanned along its front – luckily quite tall, for them to at least make it to the door.
“Are they even still in business?” Alanis raised her gun inquisitively and looked to Rasselas, just as they were slowing to close in on its entrance. “It looks a little run down.”
“Hey, don’t knock on small-town businesses now.” The Challenger retorted, “Up-keeping old buildings is hard sometimes, and besides,” She outstretched her arms to gesture towards it, “I think it vibes with the rest of the place pretty well; has a cool vintage, rustic feel to it. Anyways, let’s see if they’re open!”
They approached the doors to the store, and after an apparently typical amount of shoving each other around and light bickering, they were close enough to wedge themselves alarmingly close. With a great care to not contact its frames, both MBTs crossed their guns through the threshold of the swinging doors – much to the dumbfounded shock of the on-shift cashier, whom, upon catching glimpse of the scene, scrambled to intercept them. From what Alanis could gather from the inside layout in the precious seconds before contact, it was either a somewhat unkempt chain store, or a smaller mom-and-pop establishment that had seen its fair share of wear over the years. It mostly comprised of food and drink items or cheap clothes, but as she adjusted the focus of her optics to the uneven lighting, she was able to spot what looked like a cheap little toy aisle – bingo!
“What do you two think you’re doing? You’re gonna scare customers away! Shoo, you big hunks of metal!”
“Oh, afternoon, ma’am.”
“Hello, ma’am.”
Both tried to reply as coyly and inoffensively as possible. For a civilian looking woman, she was pretty bold compared to most. Average rural townsfolk tended to give a wide, sort of god-fearing berth to the MAI they understood so little about, or would at least try to feign pleasantries over the abject fear in their eyes that they were so, so poor at hiding. This one, however, showed little more than annoyance through and through. Perhaps, she knew a little more than she let on.
In terms of appearance, Alanis and Rasselas agreed that she must’ve been in her late 40s, early 50s, or somewhere in that ballpark. Her hair – tied into some kind of loose bun – was mostly brown, but it was spattered with sparse locks of silver, and the emerging wrinkles on her face were to an extent exacerbated by the scowl she’d painted upon herself. To play into her hands, perhaps, both tanks’ suspension hissed as they lowered themselves and rocked back on their treads by a few inches.
“We are customers though, ma’am.” Alanis explained with her best inside voice. “We were wondering if you had any butterfly nets?”
“Yeah, and bug catchers! My gunner Randy gave us some pocket money to spend wherever we wanted.” Rasselas added. Her volume control left a little to be desired. The storekeeper raised an eyebrow, and looked like she was doing her darndest to maintain her glare, but her expression loosened up just enough to notice.
“Oh. You’re Randy and Mordecai’s girls, go figure.” She replied bluntly, “…How old are you two again?”
“Twelve, both of us.” Alanis stated.
“Isn’t that-“ She brought up a hand to do some finger math. Likely, she was about to say something like- “Doesn’t that make you two mentally 25 or 28, in ‘MAI’ years, or whatever it’s called?” Pronouncing MAI, she treated it less like an acronym and more like a title, saying it like ‘May’ as opposed to ‘M.A.I.’. She was most certainly either civilian, or just hadn’t partook in WWIII.

“Yeah, but it’s still quite young in human years.”
The storekeeper slowly slipped her hands into her apron pockets, and scrutinized the ‘faces’ of the instruments of war in front of her. After an eternity of about seven seconds, she sighed, and began to walk towards the back of the store.
“...What color butterfly nets do you want?”
* * *
“Ok, ground rules? Anything?”
Both MBTs had parked themselves off to the side of the back country road in a shallow ditch, just shy of the field they’d scoped out a few hours ago. The sun had since begun to heat up the tops of their hulls and turrets, and the grass had mostly dried out – nice conditions for a classic little bug hunt. In one hand, Rasselas gently held her pink butterfly net, and her matching catcher in the other; very, very gently, seeing as she didn’t even need more than her thumb and one finger each to hold onto their thin plastic handles. Alanis was poised similarly with her own bright green set, lightly tapping the end of her net upon the top of her upper glacis plate.
“Contact by nets and catchers only, right?” The Merkava queried. Rasselas looked down at her hands, gear at the ready, and then out into the field for a moment before returning her look to Alanis.
“Definitely yeah – because I think,” She glanced down at her hands one more time, “Our hands are so big, and their bodies are so, so tiny. We might crush them if we try to touch them.”
“So absolutely no touching.”
“No touching. Anything else?”
“Wait, if we can’t touch them, we can’t even drive in the grass, can we? Because there’s gonna be so many in the grass.” Alanis asked worriedly, “I’d never even thought about that before, how many little bugs have we crushed just by-?“
“No matter! No matter now!” Rasselas picked up on her sudden upset, and quickly extended both her hands out to grab the Merkava by the tops of her fenders. “We will not be going in the grass – today, is the day we make amends on our bug-ignorant pasts. We’re gonna be SO nice to these bugs, it’s gonna knock their tiny bug socks off, okay?.”
She hardly had time to fret before she was laughing at the remark, and set down her net and catcher upon her hull to grab onto Rasselas’s arms.
“Yeah, you’re right! We’re gonna be so nice to these bugs!” She exclaimed, then started her engine and began backing up along the slope of the ditch into the field, still gripped onto the other bot, “Come on, let’s go already!”
As both tanks drove up the small ascent to be level with the field – one driving forward facing, the other in reverse - they were offered a slight barrier of mowed grass along its border, and a single strip of mowed grass that spanned along its center to make two islands of untamed growth. Their catching range was going to be limited by this, but the challenge just made it all the more fun. Even from where they sat now, their keen optics caught sight of hundreds of bugs already hopping between and flying above the wild grasses of both sections.
“Look – look right there! You have a really cool green one on that leaf!” Only after a few seconds of scanning the foliage, the Challenger was already frantically pointing out a bug just within her friend’s reach.
“What?! Where – there!” Alanis darted her eyes excitedly, and upon spotting the little insect, she hardly took any time to think before swinging her net over it and pinching the end shut. Quickly, she brought it to level with her side optic, and let out a delighted chuff from her vents. “Oh, good eye! This is a pretty one.”
Rasselas had already begun speeding over to where the fellow AI had parked, and it was as if she were trying to climb over top of her in order to get a good look at the glimmer of iridescent emerald caught in the net. It was definitely a beetle of some kind – a mean looking little thing, too, since it had such large eyes and mandibles. At first, it appeared as though it were the same shade of shimming green all over, but upon further inspection, the end of its wing casings had some little white spots on it. Six spots in total, as a matter of fact.
“You need to keep that one to show to Ms. Charser. I bet you that’s gonna be one of the coolest ones she’s ever seen.” She spoke over her shoulder.
“Oh, for sure.” Alanis replied matter of factly, “If I can just-“
She tried her best to open the bug catcher resting on her upper glacis with one hand, and after a good while of fiddling, managed to get the slide door pushed off to the side. Then, she put the face of the net overtop of the front of the open catcher, letting go of the part she had pinched shut so she could gently shake the net’s tail. The beetle inside began to skitter wildly to and fro as it was jostled, and ran side to side within the net as if it showed little interest in going anywhere. Stubborn little thing! She shook the net just barely harder, and canted the tail upward in hopes that it’d lose its footholds and sort of fall into the net instead. The sturdy bug held fast to the additional shaking – for a while, at least, until – finally! Their little hooked feet popped loose from the mesh, and they started to take a gentle tumble towards the catcher below them. ...Rookie mistake, this whole operation would seem to be, however. As if the world went into slow motion, Alanis watched in abject horror as the beetle’s carapace bounced off the face of the catcher, and when it returned to its feet, it squeezed out a small opening between the catcher and the net.
“No, wait – no!” She yelped as it opened up its elytra midair and began to fly away – trying to reorient the net quickly enough that she could try to re-catch them – but it was no use. That was a pretty fast bug.
“Damn! You must not have held the net close enough.” Rasselas huffed somewhat irritably, then darted her optics around the grasses nearest to them. “I don’t know if we could find that one again, crafty jerk. Don’t sweat it though! There’s probably, like, a hundred other cool types of bugs in this field!” She added, patting Alanis on the fender.
“Yeah, probably.” Alanis sighed, and joined her in looking over the field again. After a moment, her gaze landed on a spot about 40 feet to their left. “How about your turn this time? Look over there!”
Even from here, Rasselas could make out that she was pointing at a butterfly. Its wings were a striped pattern of black and white, and near the end of its body they had two reddish spots. Their wings spread out to their sides in a somewhat triangular shape with little tassels of sorts on the end. It was a pretty big one too, as far as butterflies went! As it rest on the underside of a leaf on a tall, spindly looking plant, it slowly flexed its wings open and closed, showing flashes of vivid red each time it closed them. It had to be one of the prettiest butterflies she’d ever seen, now that she had the time to take in all of its details – and now, she was dead set on catching it.
She approached as carefully as she could, and it was by some great stroke of good luck that the insect wasn’t startled by the rumble of her engine as she brought herself within an arm’s distance. Approaching however, was only half the battle, as she was well aware. Learning from the prior encounter with the elusive little beetle, she readied her catch container first. Then, with both hands... carefully pinching the rod of her net with two fingers each, she raised it into the optimal swinging position. She was lining up her shot – the butterfly continued to hold its ground upon its leaf, and she was about to go in for the catch when – it took off! She was taken aback for a moment, but her supreme processing time wouldn’t allow her to lose. She quickly recalculated her swing, and went in for the catch. In the net, the butterfly flitted its wings wildly as she took one hand off the net’s rod to cinch over the end. Nothing but confident at first, that feeling quickly started to waver as she noticed its wings beginning to show wear from hitting the net’s mesh. If she didn’t get it in the catcher soon, she’d have to let it go before it tore its own wings apart.
“Al, did you know their wing’s were that fragile!?” She anxiously queried the other tank.
“I’ve never caught one before, how would I?” Alanis replied in kind, gripping the rod of her net almost tightly enough to crack it. “Just get it in the catcher already – wait – I'll help!” She hurried over to sidle up with the Challenger, and picked up the bug catcher from her glacis plate.
“I’ll help hold the net closed around the sides; you just worry about getting the butterfly in and closing the door, alright?” Alanis suggested.
“Right, let’s do this!” Rasselas agreed.
As Rasselas lowered the net and brought it toward the other AI, Alanis put the front of the bug catcher into the mouth of the net and pinched the mesh shut around it. With a much more secure transfer method in place, the Challenger unpinched her side of the net, and tried to get the butterfly to move as gently as possible. Holding the tail of the net straight out, she poked at the mesh until the little bug began to move toward the catcher. After a few tense seconds of sporadic flight, they finally found their way into the catcher, and she quickly slid the door shut behind them. Score! The two AI high-fived, and Alanis held up the catcher so they could both see the butterfly inside. Luckily now, it seemed to have calmed down, and was resting on the side of the container.
“I think we have a good system going here!” Alanis remarked, “We should stick to it, catching them together. Maybe take turns on who uses the net and who uses the carrier?”
“Yeah, I think I could get behind that.” Rasselas replied thoughtfully, “Way better chances that our catches don’t get away. Guess that means it’s your turn.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice – look over there!”
The two tanks made their way around the perimeters of the field for hours, whether they’d spotted a bug to catch right away, or even lie in wait for some to come within arm’s length to catch. Astounded by the great diversity of all the little insects they were encountering, they could have stayed there all day, even: wasps and bees with brilliant pearlescent chitin, beetles with big mandibles and horns on their heads and elytra in near every color of the rainbow, butterflies with the most intricate of patterns on their delicate powdery wings, even the flies – which they’d always been told were drab little pests – proved to be just as interesting, beautiful, and diverse as any other bugs they saw. There even came a point where they seemed to have caught too many! Letting a few bugs go was difficult – especially when they tried to control which ones left the catchers and which stayed, but by the end of their time in the field, it simply meant that they left with only the prettiest of their catches. By that point as well, they’d even managed to catch other shiny little green beetle, like the first that had slipped away from them.
As much as they’d have loved to stay until the sun set, they still had plans to return to town and show Ms. Charser their bugs. With the sun slowly beginning its descent to the west, they figured it was time to call it a day and make their way back. Upon descending to the road, it occurred to them that simply driving and holding the carriers might be a bit too much wind for their little six-legged friends. To remedy this, Alanis took both and stowed them inside her hull, making sure that they were nestled in a spot where they wouldn’t get bumped around or knocked over. Taking the same route home as they had earlier, they passed all the same houses. Dr. Brewer was still at work, but they got to wave to Mrs. Hensley while she was out weeding in her garden. The couple from Mr. Nguyen’s old place were out now, as well – shoveling old mulch from the flower beds out front. Both tanks waved as they passed, and the couple did the same, albeit a bit awkwardly. Progress! They’d probably be stopping by to chat before they knew it.
Finally making their way further into town, they rolled up into Ms. Charser’s driveway, who’d already began peeking out her window – likely clued in by the low rumble of their engines. She had a humble little ranch house; olive green siding with a brownish trim, and a low porch that stretched across almost the whole front wall. The driveway was to its left, and snaked past the side of the house into the back yard where her one-car garage sat. The grass all around it was quite tall, but that was clearly deliberate, given the great diversity in native grasses and wildflowers that populated it. As Rasselas and Alanis put on their brakes, she closed her blinds once again, and her door opened just a moment later.
She was a younger woman – perhaps in her early 30s, and she had her curly black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Apparently not yet having changed out of her work clothes, she was wearing a cheerful yellow blouse with small white polka dots on it, paired with a modest solid white skirt that reached down to her calves. Really, the outfit was reminiscent of something a school teacher might wear – was she? They didn’t know enough about her to guess. Regardless, their first introduction was seemingly going well – the two were quite used to the locals being much more apprehensive to speak with them at first – maybe they were all finally starting to get used to them?
“Can I help you two... tanks?” She asked hesitantly, both hands gripped to her door.
“Yeah. Actually!” Rasselas replied, “Sorry if it’s a little out of the blue, but we found some cool bugs for you to look at! Oh – Rasselas and Alanis, by the way. She’s Alanis.” She pointed to the Merkava, who waved from behind her.
“Oh, really?” She opened the door a smidge wider, eyebrows slightly raised. “How’d you know I like them, I can’t recall us ever talking?”
“We heard you talking about them at the fair last spring.” Alanis piped up, “And my dad Mordecai said that you did earlier today – he's the one that suggested coming over here to show you.”
Alanis pulled the bug catchers from her hull, and held them out toward her. Evidently, she enjoyed bugs enough that the apprehension toward talking with a pair of tanks must have evaporated on sight. She disappeared back into her house for a moment, and returned outside with a pair of flats on. Descending the stairs in almost a sort of hop, Alanis lowered the catchers to her eye level, and she picked one up to look inside it.
“Wow, you’ve got some nice ones in here! I already see that six-spotted tiger beetle, and – oh! A zebra swallowtail, and...”
She proceeded to go on about the bugs they’d caught, giving them as much information and trivia on them as she had air in her lungs. Native ranges, their various life stages, their diets and evolutionary adaptations that made them perfect for their environments – and Rasselas and Alanis were more than eager to be able to sit through all of it. Turns out, Ms. Charser – or Sarah, as she later informed them - might not have been a teacher, but she’d been passionate about entomology all her life, and wanted to get into the field professionally some day. The three of them ended up sitting out in the front yard until the sun had begun to go down, and maybe even a little later than that. Sadly, despite the MAIs’ untiring wells of energy, Sarah still had to go to work tomorrow – and they bid their farewells. Not before releasing the bugs, though, of course. After all, part of being a good scientist was taking good care of your subjects! By the time they were due to leave, the three of them had already agreed that they’d be turning this into a regular occurrence – the two AI were happy to go out and keep catching bugs, and Sarah was just as pleased with the idea of sitting down with them to identify them.
As Rasselas and Alanis made their way out of the driveway and continued back to their homes again for the night, they conversed in excitement about all the kinds of bugs that they might catch next weekend.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
...Two weeks later.
Rasselas is startled awake as there’s a firm, brief series of knocks at the door to her garage. Taking a fraction of a second to adjust her eyes to the early morning light and regain her bearings, she slowly moves toward the door and peers out its windows. Randy is standing outside, looking up at her with arms crossed, and he doesn’t look all too pleased. Shit. He’s got time to stand around, so there’s no use in trying to wait him out. Reaching over to the side wall, she pushes the door actuator, and the parties on either side wait in an awkward silence as it slowly lifts and stows itself away. Once the door comes to an abrupt stop and its motor stops groaning, Randy takes a step closer.
“Care to explain what this is about?”
He held out a white envelope, and with a moment to inspect it, Rasselas could already see the bold red ink on the bottom that read, “SUMMONS.” Oh no.
“Look-look-look I can explain just give me a second to-“
“No. No! I thought we talked about this! You cant just keep toying with the law and-“
She tried to tune him out while she was fumbling with the controls of her radio to contact Alanis. It took a moment, but soon enough she was hollering over their comms frequency for her to wake up. Not very soon later, the garage door down the street was opening up, and the Merkava poked her gun and prow out the front.
“ALANIS! I thought you paid these off!” She drove a few feet out of her own garage - Randy quickly sidestepped out of the way without even breaking his cadence of lecturing - and she held the summons letter up for her to see.
“I did! I swear I wrote checks and sent them in!”
“Checks – Checks? Did you look at the balance on the account?”
“……..SHI-“