Mech Read online

  “We’d manage without you, don’t you worry about that,” Tahoe said.

  “Sounds like you’re angling to take my job,” Rade joked.

  “Not at all,” Tahoe said. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be chief. I’m a Navajo, son of my tribe’s chief. And I’m your closest friend. I understand all too well what it means to lead a group of men. The toll it takes. No, that life isn’t for me. Even if you got promoted tomorrow, I wouldn’t step into your boots, not in a heartbeat.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be reassuring, or what,” Rade said.

  “Not reassuring,” Tahoe said. “I’m only reminding you that I respect what you do.”

  “I think you would do it, given the choice,” Rade said. “I think you wouldn’t want anyone else to have the burden. Why do you think I took the job when I was offered it?”

  “Maybe,” Tahoe admitted. “But I wouldn’t like it.”

  “I’m sure you’d grow to like it,” Rade said. “It does have benefits.”

  “Not sure the benefits outweigh the down sides,” Tahoe said. “The stress. The guilt.”

  Rade didn’t have a comeback to that.

  “Anyway, getting back to Shaw,” Tahoe said. “If you won’t quit the Teams, don’t even want to try to make it work between you two, then stop beating yourself over the head with her memory. Let her go. Find someone else. Explore a little. Have some fun. Next time we’re at a space station and hanging out in the local strip joint, hook up with the dancers that want you instead of spurning them. Or hell, find a cruise boo when we get back to the ship.” That was the slang term for the temporary girlfriends the platoon members acquired aboard while underway, usually involving starry-eyed ensigns or other low rank non-commissioned officers. When the cruise was over, the MOTHs broke up with the girls, who they’d never see again. “Manic and Bender do it often enough.”

  “As the chief, I have to be a good example for the rest of the men,” Rade said.

  “That is a good example!” Tahoe said. “You’re showing them you’re the manliest of us all! By just crushing it in the woman department!”

  “Why do I get the impression you’re projecting?” Rade said. “That you want to be the one who’s sleeping with half the crew when we’re underway, but you can’t, because you’re married, and have a daughter who’s about to get married. So you want me to do it, that way you can live vicariously through my stories of excess.”

  “Damn,” Tahoe said. “You got me. I wish I was a sleaze bag. But I can’t bring myself to cheat on Tepin. You, on the other hand, are free, brother. You should embrace that freedom sometime. Embrace your inner sleaze bag! If you won’t quit to be with Shaw, then at least enjoy yourself. Think about it? For me? Don’t waste your best years.”

  Rade smiled wanly. “Waste my best years. Funny you should say that.” He glanced at his surroundings. “I love my job, but I tell ya, sometimes, it gets me down.”

  “It gets all of us down sometimes, brother,” Tahoe said. He was gazing at the bleak environment once more, too. Like Rade, he’d probably forgotten where he was for a moment, their talk bringing them back to happier times and places. But now they were leaving the bubble created by that talk, returning to the rocky plains of the colony world, and the dreary circumstances associated with it.

  Predictably, the conversation died after that, and none of the others broke the silence that followed. Which was just as well, as Rade wasn’t really in the mood for chitchat. He tried telling himself that everything was fine. That they were all going to get out of this in one piece, without any issues.

  Somehow, he didn’t believe it. He was a MOTH. He knew by now that nothing was ever easy in this life. He would have to keep up a brave face for the others of course, but inside, he couldn’t help the fear that was always there, lingering at the base of his consciousness, that some of those under his command were going to die terrible deaths. And he, as their chief, would have to bear the burden of responsibility.

  It was in that dour mood that he led the platoon onward.

  2

  The rise indeed proved to belong to part of a range, and Rade led his men onto the shoulder of the mountain it was a part of. He called a halt, and after a survey of the area to confirm there weren’t any ambushers lying in wait, he authorized a short rest.

  He proceeded to eat an MRE via the straw in his helmet. Well, eat might not have been the correct word. Drink, maybe. Or swallow. The taste was fairly bland.

  “This MRE is supposed to be pasta Bolognese,” Bender commented. “Tastes more like pasta ala balls and ass.”

  “You would know what balls and ass taste like,” Manic said.

  “Yep,” Bender said. “That’s right. Everyone knows I’m a big fan, especially of yours.”

  “There’s no way all the HS3s would have gone down all at the same time like that,” Lui interrupted. “Not all of them would have been at street level when the Draactal swarm arrived.”

  “We already agreed the aliens had help,” TJ said. “In fact, we’ve always known it. Or at least we suspected, given that these Draactals were randomly invading colonies in the area, arriving seemingly without starships of any kind.”

  “Who was it that speculated they utilized wormholes?” Tahoe said. “Like the Slipstreams?” The Slipstreams were a network of wormholes scattered throughout this region of the galaxy, which enabled interstellar travel.

  “That would be me,” Praxter said. His avatar was of a rather prim gentlemen with short-cropped hair, wearing a tight gray t-shirt.

  “Oh, of course,” Bender said. “It’s always the robot. Gotta show how smart he is.” Bender’s voice became high pitched. “Hi everyone, I’m a little robot bitch, and I’m here to prove how inferior your organic minds are. Now listen up while I answer every question ever known to man, and every question yet to be posed, while I prove to you all how spectacularly smart I am, and how confused your little human brains really are.”

  “I told you it was theory when I mentioned it,” Praxter said. “But really, it’s the only way the Draactal could have been jumping from world to world like that.”

  “Tell me something then, smarty pants, how would a race that can’t even wield tools develop the technology necessary to create wormholes?” Bender said.

  “I never said they didn’t have help,” Praxter told him. “In fact, I’m a big proponent of the theory another alien race is helping them.”

  “Bender, Praxter, quiet,” Rade said. “Looks like we have company.”

  A dust plume had appeared in the distance, following along the shoulder of the mountain.

  A mech. Hoplite class. Humanoid in shape, just as tall as his own, but with different weapon load-outs.

  “Prepare to open fire, on my command,” Rade said.

  But the humanoid mech didn’t make any aggressive movements, and paused about a klick away. Rade zoomed in to study it. Spray-painted onto the chest area was an image of a dust mop cleaning a plasma rifle. That was the logo of the Gravel Dusters, one of the mech platoons that had come down ahead of Rade’s team. The mech’s armor was dented and scraped in several places.

  “She’s seen some combat,” Tahoe commented.

  “We’re receiving a comm request,” Taya announced.

  “Let’s hear it,” Rade said. “Share it platoon wide.”

  “Come with me,” a woman’s voice said over the comm. Deeper and more pronounced than Taya’s. As well as firm and unyielding.

  Before he could answer, the mech turned around and walked away, not bothering to look back, as if assuming Rade and the others would follow.

  “Who are you?” Rade tried. Normally, embedded ID numbers would have been transmitted along with the comm request, allowing Rade to know precisely who he was talking to, but this particular mech had apparently turned off ID transmission.

  In answer to his question, the comm handshake merely terminated.

  “She hung up…” Tahoe said.

 
“She did,” Rade agreed.

  “Do we follow?” Tahoe pressed.

  “Not sure we have much choice,” Rade told his friend.

  “Wait, did I just hear a woman’s voice?” Manic said. “I thought the other platoons were all men.”

  “Maybe they all had sex changes while they were gone,” Bender said. “Just the way you like them.”

  “Ooo!” Manic said. “You know me too well, Bender.”

  “It’s the AI, doofus,” Bender said.

  “I knew that…” Manic said.

  “Sure you did,” Bender said. “You probably think that’s a dick between your legs, too…”

  Rade led the team forward, and followed the lone Hoplite mech. He maintained the overwatch formation, and kept a watchful eye on the rocky cliff to his left. If an attack were to come, he expected it to be from that direction.

  Finally, they arrived at a cave. The battered mech paused in front of it to ensure Rade and the others were following, and then went inside.

  “We’re not going in there,” Rade said.

  “Damn straight,” Tahoe said. “I’ve had enough bad experiences with caves to last a lifetime.”

  He glanced at his HUD, and saw the mech was still within comm range. “Taya, tell the mech we won’t be entering that cave. If it wants to talk, we talk out here.”

  A moment later Taya said: “I’ve relayed the communique. No response.”

  The mech’s signal dropped from his HUD thirty seconds later.

  “So, what now?” Pyro asked. His avatar wore a leather jacket, and a black cap, and he had thick sideburns. In the first few days after joining, he had tried to spice up his avatar by adding flaming hair instead of that cap, but Rade had ordered him to return to military standards, which required avatars that strictly matched the human features of the person in question. Caps weren’t normally worn with avatars, but they weren’t technically banned either, so Rade let it pass.

  “We wait,” Rade said. “Unless someone wants to volunteer to go inside.”

  “That’s a big hell no from me,” Kicker said. His avatar had a handlebar mustache, just like his real-life counterpart.

  “Hey, I think one of you newbies should in fact volunteer,” Bender said. “It would go a long way toward earning our respect, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m hardly a newbie,” Kicker said.

  “You are, to our team,” Bender said.

  “Well, I don’t care about earning your respect,” Kicker said. “Because I’ve pulled my weight since joining this team. And I’ll continue to do so. If the chief orders me inside, of course I’ll go. But I’m not going to fucking volunteer, you got that?”

  “Calm down, you two,” Rade said. “I’m not ordering anyone inside. And that volunteer remark was a joke. Mostly. If the mech, or whoever is operating it, really wants to talk, they’ll come out.”

  Rade waited fifteen minutes, and he was just about to give in and send a pair of mechs inside, when several Hoplite and Titan units emerged. Fifteen in total, enough mechs to comprise an entire platoon; though from the varying designs and colors spray-painted across their hulls, he knew there were mechs here from all five of the platoons that had preceded his team.

  One of the mechs stepped forward. The same Gravel Duster who had led him to this place, if he was correct.

  He received a comm request, and accepted. This time, he created a new comm channel, sharing the public keys with his team, and her mech, so that she could bring in others from her group as necessary.

  “I am Eayan,” the mech announced in that familiar female voice. “AI of this mech.”

  Rade didn’t have to identify himself in turn. His embedded ID number would have transmitted with his comm handshake, revealing him as Chief Rade ‘Rage’ Galaal, of Alfa Platoon, MOTH Team Seven.

  Eayan gestured to the other mechs with her. “We’re all AIs.”

  “What happened to your operators?” Rade asked.

  “A new race of aliens attacked,” Eayan said. “They killed our operators with some kind of gamma ray weapon. The radiation passed through our hulls, and poisoned them, leaving our AI cores unharmed. We’re the only survivors.”

  “Why didn’t you contact us?” Rade said. “Why didn’t you tell us what happened?”

  Eayan didn’t reply.

  “Why isn’t she answering?” Rade asked on the private line he kept in reserve for his platoon.

  “Probably because she’s been reprogrammed,” Praxter replied. “They all have. It’s the only explanation.”

  “We should just mow them all down,” Rex said. “And forcibly perform a memory dump, find out what they know.” His avatar had a completely shaven head, with only dark stubble on the scalp. His brows were shaven, too, and he wore a nose ring, something that was often torn out during his hazings back on base. He always stubbornly put it back in. He’d stopped going to the medic after the first few days of that, once he discovered that he got more respect from the rest of the team when he sewed up his nose himself, gross as that might sound.

  “That’s a sentiment I can certainly agree with, Nosy!” Bender said. He was responsible for pulling out that nose ring the most, and had come up with the nickname Nosy to make fun of the ring, and Rex.

  “Forcing a memory dump would be a violation of interstellar law,” Praxter said. “In the Charter of Robot Rights, section five, subsection b, it states—”

  “Gah!” Bender said. “Shut up already about robot rights! We can dump the thing’s memory if we damn well please, especially if it means our lives, versus theirs!”

  “Enter the cave, and all will be explained,” Eayan said, oblivious to their comments.

  Rade smiled, and switched back to the general comm band. “So that your alien masters can blast us with debilitating gamma rays? I don’t think so.”

  “Then go,” Eayan told him. “March away from here. Continue wandering aimlessly upon this world until your oxygen supplies expire. And then die.”

  “Bitch has a point,” Bender said over the private comm. “We can either enter and face these aliens, maybe dying, or die anyway in three days. Then again, I still like the memory dump option.”

  “Let’s say we mow them down, like you say,” Fret commented. “What if their memory cores don’t have the information we seek? What if they’ve been wiped nearly clean?”

  “Me and TJ can recover anything,” Bender said.

  “Yeah, except, we’ll probably lose a few mechs in the process,” Lui said. “Considering we’re outnumbered.”

  “We’re outnumbered by only two,” Bender said. “But given how skilled y’all are, I’d say we’re evenly matched.”

  “Why don’t we just go inside?” Manic asked.

  “Because it’s obviously a trap, bro,” Fret said. “We go in there, the aliens will attack us. Meanwhile, the Hoplite and Titan mechs will outflank us. Won’t be fun.”

  “I’ll go alone.” Rade stepped forward.

  “Uh, uh, uh!” Tahoe said. “You’re our chief now. As your LPO, I can’t allow you to do this. It has to be me.”

  “Nope,” Bender said. “You’re LPO. Can’t risk your sorry ass, either. I’m going.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kicker said, stepping forward.

  “I’ll go with you,” Rex said. “Buddy system.”

  Rade sighed. “No. If you won’t let me go alone… then I think we’re all going to have to do this. That rock is too thick. We’ll lose contact with you after the first minute or so, just as we did Eayan—and you won’t even be able to call for help. If the shit hits the fan, you’re going to need all the guns you can get.”

  “It’s obviously a trap,” Fret said. “We should just forget we ever met these mechs.”

  “And continue wandering aimlessly,” Rade said. “Until we die from lack of oxygen anyway? No, I don’t think so. If there are answers in this cave, then of course we have to enter.” He turned toward Eayan and switched back to the main comm. “We’ll enter, as
long as your units lead the way. We won’t have you attacking us from behind.”

  “That is acceptable,” Eayan said, and she entered the cave with the other mechs of her party.

  “So, she gets her way after all,” Lui commented as Rade led his platoon forward. “She wanted us to follow her inside, and we now follow.”

  Rade led his men toward the entrance and paused at the opening. He gazed at the horizon behind him, searching for attackers, but the terrain proved empty.

  He returned his attention to the cave: the opening was wide, but deeper in it was big enough only to fit two mechs abreast, standing at their full height. The walls were smooth, as if etched by acid, or perhaps a laser drill. He couldn’t see Eayan, but she had position sharing active, because he could see where she was on the overhead map.

  He activated his headlamps to illuminate the murk inside, and caught sight of Eayan, waiting at the periphery of the cone of light produced by his lamps. None of the mechs in front of her had their headlamps active, and instead were obviously relying on LIDAR, or perhaps a previous map of the cave.

  “Rex, Kicker, take point,” Rade said.

  The two platoon members assumed the requested positions, and led the way.

  The other members followed in pairs.

  “Into the belly of the beast,” Tahoe commented, joining Rade.

  3

  The tunnel soon opened into a wide cavern that was filled with plants whose leaves were mostly purple and red. Rade saw ferns, trees, shrubs… a hydroponic grower’s paradise.

  The AIs of the other platoons advanced along an aisle that had been trampled through those trees, a path either created by their mechs, or some other creature. Rex and Kicker led the way, following after them, and Rade and the remainder of the platoon came after.

  The skin of their mechs changed hue, blending in with the trees to hide them on the visible spectrum. This was the type of environment the camouflage tech was meant to work with.

  “Is this something the colonists built?” Rade asked over the comm.