The Fat Man and the Ghosts

Frankly, Im not very keen on it.
Really?
Really. I mean... it pretty much involves my taking on an entire squadron with nothing but my bodyfat protecting me.
It's all about the technology, though. Look at it this way: they'll have no idea what they're up against, while you'll know exactly what you're up against. You'll take them completely by surprise!
Yes...
Look, you'll take down half of them before they even see you.
Yes, but what about the other half?
There's a program for deflecting bullets.
Isn't it expensive?
Well, just be carefull not to get shot at too often.
Thanks... I guess... I guess I'm just not used to this sort of thing. I mean, I've done a lot of crazy shit in self defense, and I've killed more than a few times. But this is... very different. And besides, what makes you so sure they won't have a real defense?
We've done surveillance. None of them is shaped for it like you are. Look, I've gone through your scripts myself, like you asked, and I've added a few tricks of my own. No-one I've ever met could take you down while your fight is on.
You know, I've been meaning to lose weight.
Don't make me laugh. Just run some artery cleaning and cardiovascular strengthening progs and you're the healthiest man on earth.
Okay, but, about this plan...
Look, I would go if I could, but my count is low, and I've been starved for weeks. It'll take me months to get back in the kind of condition you're in.
Alright, alright... it's just, it seems like a lot of killing for one uplink.
What is knowledge?
Power.
And what would they do to us if we had the uplink?
Kill us. Alright already. Just... don't be surprised if I come back a lot thinner.
Heh. You'll always be a fat man to me.
How sweet. We get in, we suck the net, get what you're looking for, and get out. There's no organic matter within 10 miles of here, and you can almost taste the pixiedust.
Tell me about it. Fighting it off shows up as a line item on my calorie budget. Believe me, I don't want to hang around here any longer than necessary.
Kama... what if they make a sacrifice?
They can't. That's the beauty of it, Dima, any undefended carbon goes to the pixiedust, to feed the ghosts. They can't get more than five percent of it.
What a god-awful wasteland.
That's why you have such a huge advantage.
...I keep forgetting that I should be proud of my blubber. It makes it so hard to move around most of the time.
It's not blubbler, it's wealth. Portable power, potential energy.
So... are you ready?
What the hell. I'll shoot you a line when it's clear.

An ancient sattelite dish sits on top of a metal hut in the middle of a small desert, roughly a 20 mile hole in the forest where nothing can grow. As the fat man lumbers out of the shadow of the trees under the cover of a starless night, he whispers a few words into his headset. His movement is suddenly more graceful, he seems to glide across the desert, ignoring the odd holographic ghost that pops up to stare at him or entreat him or attack him, in madness. Ignoring also the thousands of probes, his scripts easily fending off their advances. He glides like a shadow toward the hut.

Shapes show up on his display, moving along foxholes surrounding his target. He pulls a focus ball out of his pocket and holds it close to his face, and he whispers a few more commands, before giving it a gentle toss in the direction of the hut.

Silence. Screams. Shots.

All at once, the desert basin comes alive with ghosts, as the pixiedust starts gnawing into the freshly dead bodies.

"Reward to be paid by Microsoft Corporation for--"
"Help Me!"
"Please..."
"I'll kill you now!"
"Thank you for taki--
"No!"
"You, you killed me!"
"Stop!"
"More! Give me more!"

Thousands of ghosts, across the desert, suddenly feasting on the fallen soldiers, all of that energy running into their deranged personalities. Kama has never seen anything like it.

Mayra wakes up. She's been sleeping for a hundred years, after writing her last script. She doesn't like living in a computer. That's why she sleeps, saving up her calories and letting the other ghosts waste them on passerbys. She alone made a plan, and now she's executing it. A fresh surge of energy puts her over the threshold, and her script starts running, scanning. 30 humans at the hut. 25. 20. 15. Too dangerous. One human far away, on the edges of the forest. Her focus ball starts rolling that way, and then picks itself off the ground as it builds up speed. Energy to spare.

Dima sits down in a foxhole, breathing hard. The other QMan is dead. There are 8 soldiers left, and they're busy shooting the ghosts. Whenever one of them gets near Dima, they drop, and Dima shudders. Already he's noticeably thinner. His face is white and he's shaking. Around him dead bodies are disintegrating under the pixiedust. Ghosts are springing up all around him, yelling at him, attacking him, trying to hack his defenses. His programs keep him secure, snuffing out several of the peskier ghosts. So many. So many. He shuts his eyes and covers his ears, shivering, as his calories are sucked away into his fight program.

Kama's display puts up a warning, and he feels a familiar burst of adrenaline as his defenses kick in, sucking at his living tissues to fend off the attacker, he can't even tell what's going on, but it hurts.

Mayra brought her dust with her, but she barely needs it. This human is weak. Her reserve of energy is much greater, and soon the script she had been able to suck, the crowning achievement of her body's last 5 minutes of life, will be set loose on his brain.

Dima finally opens his eyes. He coughs, and a little blood comes up. It happens, he's told. He orders his scripts to stand down to level 2 alert, and stands up carefully. He feels weak, but also lighter than he's been in years. They say the extra weight just goes into the atmpsphere, but he doesn't really understand the chemistry behind it. No-one else is alive. The ghosts have mainly gone quiet, only a few screamers and a few drones are left in the area. They can all be ignored. He steps inside the hut and surveys the scene. There it is, the uplink, in all it's obscene glory. Just another console. He dictates a brief message to Kama.

Kama is reeling, but he's not out of tricks yet. The attack is strong, but simple, just a push to force him to spend his defenses. With a word he launches a counter-attack to stop his opponent's heart. Nothing. Crap.

Dima gets no response. After a couple of hours he logs on and takes a look around.

Mayra's script fails. The host is dead. She's spent.

The fat man leaves.

Updated 8/23, changed whitespace in initial conversation to make it clearer who is talking.