Troops, what troops?

They hit us from every possible entrance, some body-armoured UN thugs even came bubbling out of the super secure exits in the storage rooms.

We all knew that resistance was futile, so we surrendered without a fuss.

As they lined us up against the wall under threat of snub-nosed machine guns, I again felt a sense of alienation from these preppy kids fretting about what would happen next. I was first out the door of the attack helicopter on the night that the USS Nicholas took those oil platforms during Desert Storm.

Conflict held no terror for me, but what happened next scared me like nothing else had ever scared me before. As the troops were zipping riot cuffs on to us, the fire sprinklers started spraying a fine mist, nothing like the water that they should have.

In no more than 10 seconds everyone in the room’s skin started going pink, then bubbling and erupting in gouts of gore. Jen and I stood there, speechless, apparently immune from this plague.

NanoSwarm seemed to be in Beta, now.

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