by Greg Sorber
“I am Zeta IX, the Reaper. I slay Archangels—or anything else that gets in my way.” Insane laughter filled the corridors of the Planet Cleanser.
Larry ran faster than he ever had before. The screevers were faster than anyone expected. Some leaped forward on legs that launched them across great distances, others sped along using tank-like treads, while even more scurried on multiple appendages, like nightmarish spiders. Each type had one thing in common: they were fast. He tried sending Artie and Volley a warning via the communicator, but the screeching sound made verbal communication useless. He hoped that even though they couldn’t hear him, that the screeching should convey all the information they needed.
As a mechanical life-form, Larry didn’t get winded, nor did he feel pain in his legs like a human might, but he still pushed his physical limits. To go any harder, he needed to disable his built-in fail-safes, but doing so risked catastrophic failures which would leave him disabled in the path of the screevers. Instead, he went as close to the edge as he could, for as long as he dared.
Artie and Volley came into his view. They held their positions, ready to unleash their explosive payloads and destroy as many of the enemy as possible from a safe distance. Once the screevers closed in, the mechanical monsters would have the advantage. Larry skirted the edge of all safety limitations to give his friends’ targeting systems every second available to calibrate the speed of the screevers. If their calculations weren’t accurate, they’d waste their ordinance by under or overshooting the screevers. Then the only option would be to fight them up close. That wasn’t a favorable proposition.
He ran between Artie and Volley and slid to a stop. “They’re coming fast!” Larry shouted at the two Artillery mechs.
“We see that. Now scram and we’ll catch up,” Volley said.
“I’ll wait and cover you,” Larry said. He aimed his sniper rifle back in the direction he’d come from and fired a shot. One screever down, thousands, maybe tens of thousands, to go.
“No, you go on. You need to cover our retreat.” Artie said.
“Right. But be careful,” Larry said, and ran back towards the defensive line.
“Careful is our middle name.” Artie said. Volley laughed.
Larry reached the crest of another hill, this one between Artie and Volley’s position and the defensive line. He waved to the defenders, standing ready and waiting for his report.
“The screevers are on their way,” he said into the communicator. This time he was far enough away from the oncoming bots, and his signal got through.
“We can hear their maddening sound all the way over here,” Therapy said.
“Be sure to cover Artie and Volley’s retreat,” Misty said.
“On it,” Larry said. He raised his sniper rifle and prepared to fire.
Artie and Volley steadied themselves. They were ready to fire. Artie’s rocket pods opened. Volley calculated the trajectories needed for his cannon to do the maximum amount of damage. The screevers swept up and down the rolling hills and were in range. Why weren’t they firing? Ajax and Dennis had divided Artie’s full complement of weapons between the two mechs so they could make a quicker escape. He hoped there wasn’t a glitch in the wiring or targeting systems. Ajax had reinstalled everything in a hurry, and they didn’t have time or extra ammunition for live fire tests.
Artie and Volley were allowing the screevers to get much closer than he felt comfortable. Was that intentional, or by accident? He’d ask his friends when this was all over. If they made it.
Then it happened. Artie unleashed his payload first. Thousands of small cluster rockets streamed from his shoulder pods. The cluster rockets flew upwards, paused at the top of their trajectory before descending with deadly precision into the mass of screevers. Larry had seen bigger explosions during the war, but the amount of individual firepower Artie unleashed was impressive. Smoke filled the area where the rockets exploded, but he couldn’t see the damage done to the advancing screevers, so he turned his attention to his friend. Artie jettisoned the shoulder pods and ran for his life.
Before the smoke cleared, Volley fired his back-mounted cannon as fast as he could. The artillery shells were larger than the cluster rockets and created bigger explosions, but they also took longer to reload. The shock waves of thunderous explosions from were palpable through the air. Debris from the screevers destroyed by Artie’s cluster rockets didn’t slow the rest of the horde.
Larry’s nerves were on edge. He was one of the fastest mechs around, perhaps the fastest on Mechhaven, except for maybe Connie or Lancer. Watching the two Artillery mechs escaping was agony. They moved as slow as Old Terran snails. They needed to move faster or the screevers would overwhelm them. Artie was making progress; he was moving faster since jettisoning his shoulder pods. Volley struggled. His cannon was still attached to his back. Why hadn’t it released? Was it malfunctioning?
Through his scope, Larry watched the smoke from the explosions dissipate. As the smoke cleared, the devastation the cluster rockets and artillery shells had caused was impressive. Wreckage from hundreds of screevers lay scattered in all directions. Unfortunately, it wasn’t good enough. There were still thousands more screevers behind them, and they were coming in fast.
“Run faster!” Larry shouted, for whatever good it would do.
“Cannon won’t release,” Volley shouted. “Still trying.”
Larry saw the screevers closing in on Volley and fired.
First shot. Screever down.
Second shot. Another screever down.
Third shot. Two more screevers down. Nice!
When the cannon finally fell from Volley’s back, the mech picked up speed, but the screevers were right on his heels. Larry kept firing at any screevers that got too close to Volley, but his ammo supply wouldn't last forever. He didn’t have enough to keep up this rate of fire for long. Artie ran for all he was worth. He turned back to see Volley in the distance. He reached for a sidearm that Larry had lent him and turned back to help Volley.
“Keep running,” Larry shouted. “I’m covering him.”
Artie nodded and ran. He wasn’t a marksman and would be no help to Volley at that range. If he waited, he would get overwhelmed.
Larry continued to fire, picking off screevers that got too close to Volley. Volley reached down to his side for his own sidearm. He saluted to Larry, then stopped and turned to face the oncoming horde of screevers.
Artie caught up to Larry’s position and had time to turn and watch Volley.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Artie asked.
Volley fired shot after shot at the screevers. Some shots were direct hits and destroyed the screevers they struck. Others grazed or damaged the screevers, but the bots were single-minded and, unless destroyed, kept coming.
“He’s buying us time!”
Volley fired until his sidearm ran out of ammunition. His last defiant act was throwing the sidearm at an approaching enemy. Then Larry lost sight of Volley as the screevers smashed into and overwhelmed him.
Larry didn’t have time to mourn Volley. He pushed Artie forward. “Let’s go, or we’ll be next!”
Artie and Larry ran back to the defensive line. They could see in the distance. They might just make it.
Lancer stood with Gladius along the fortifications. Gladius didn’t like him, but he didn’t care. During the war, Lancer had served his king with honor, and had no control over the complex political machinations that had permeated through the various alliances. One day the monarchies were fighting alongside the Imperium, the next they were standing down. His limited understanding of the situation was that his king had received evidence the Imperium precipitated the war on false pretenses, thus had withdrawn his support the same day. The king’s actions led to the peace talks and brought the costly war to an end. In his mind, there was honor in those actions as well.
His own sense of honor demanded he prove to Gladius and the Legion that Arcturan warriors were the fiercest in
the galaxy. He couldn’t stand the thought of the Legion looking down on him and his comrades, thinking them cowards. On this day, he would show them otherwise. This time he wasn’t fighting for his king. This time he was fighting for himself and for his brethren.
Lancer spotted Larry and Artie running towards the defensive line. He’d taken a liking to the two new mechs and had become friends with them. He didn’t see Volley. That was most unwelcome news. He vowed at that moment that Artie and Larry would survive. Behind the running mechs, hordes of screevers followed close. The screeching sound the bots made as they rushed towards their targets was piercing, even at a distance. He wished there had been time and materials to produce sonic dampeners, to filter out the sound, but they had neither. Instead, he lowered his aural sensors to the lowest setting, for whatever good that might do.
He was ready to leap into action to help his friends, but he held himself in check. The closer Artie and Larry made it to the defensive line, the more help would be available. If he acted too soon, he could also fall victim to the oncoming mass of metal monstrosities.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Larry’s fear. Artie had fallen behind. Try as the TexaNovan Artillery mech might, he couldn’t keep up with Larry’s pace. The screevers gained on his friend. Volley’s sacrifice bought them precious little time. Larry lifted his sniper rifle and spotted two buzzers swooping in to attack. He fired. Once. Twice. Those two fell from the sky, but more screevers were coming and he didn’t have enough ammunition to dispatch them all. He reached down to his side and touched a large knife that he’d picked from the Imperium stockpile. It wasn’t much, but when he ran out of ammunition, it would be his last line of defense.
“Go on ahead!” Artie said. “There’s no use in both of us dying.”
“I didn’t think TexaNovans were so good at drama. Neither of us will die if you’d just get your heavy ass moving!” Larry shouted back over the high-pitched screeching that was all but deafening.
Larry waited for his friend to catch up, then turned and started running again. It didn’t look good. The screevers were gaining too much ground. If he and Artie could just get a little closer to the defensive line, there would be plenty of help. A hard thud knocked him off course. It took a moment before the damage registered on his sensors. A buzzer had slammed into his shoulder. Damn. Then another thud. Again, more damage. He dodged to the side and avoided another hit. He ducked down and spun backwards, sliding to a halt.
Artie wasn’t as lucky. He staggered and fell to the ground. Several screevers leaped on top of him.
Larry grasped for his knife and rushed to help his friend. He moved fast, removing all fail-safes. This wasn’t a time to worry about long-term damage. His friend needed saving. He was under no illusion that he could take more than a few hits from these things, so speed and agility were paramount.
Artie struggled to stand, but Larry could see that his friend had sustained major damage in several places. A screever jumped on Artie’s back. Larry rushed in and, with a slash of the knife, took it out. Several more swarmed around him, but he kept slashing. Artie was on his feet and moving again. Larry ran behind him, slashing with the knife and covering his friend. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up before they damaged him enough to make him fall, but he would keep trying until he couldn’t move and was himself destroyed.
The two mechs limped along together. Artie had taken significant damage, but his heavier armor allowed him to absorb more punishment and still function. Larry had only taken minimal damage, but it was just a matter of time. At the last second, a blinder bounced up and flashed its strobing lights. The bright light overwhelmed his ocular sensors, and he was blinded, along with being deafened by the infernal screeching.
Lancer chafed at his current safe distance from the battle as he watched his friends struggle. He was a warrior and should be in the thick of the fighting. He was proud of Larry’s courage to go back and help Artie, and to engage the screevers using only a knife. Larry’s courage would inspire others to step up and fight hard. But Artie and Larry needed to survive. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they were overwhelmed and destroyed in plain sight of all the defenders. That would be a hard blow to morale.
Lancer cringed as a blinder jumped up and unleashed its blinding strobe light on Larry. Artie hadn’t seen Larry’s predicament and had kept running. Even blinded as he was, Larry kept fighting and lashed out with his knife, spinning and kicking. In what he could only consider a miracle, Larry had only sustained minor damage.
Several screevers in a row attacked Artie. He stumbled as a sprayer unleashed its corrosive acid on his legs. The protective coating seemed to work, but the acid seeped into damaged areas, no longer protected. Artie collapsed to the ground, unable to remain upright any longer.
Lancer charged into action. He used his four legs to charge at top speed and aimed the tip of his spear for the nearest screevers. If he was fast enough, he would save his friends. There were a lot of screevers, and this was just the vanguard. He had a brief time to affect a rescue before the bulk of the first wave hit. Larry held the screevers at bay. It was a glorious sight. Yet it was only a matter of time before something slipped past his guard. With Artie on the ground defenseless, there was no dilemma, he’d help Artie first.
Lancer dodged incoming buzzers and was careful to destroy any blinders before they unleashed their strobe attacks. He avoided the acid sprayers and speared any of the shredders or rippers that dared come within his spear’s reach. He laughed to himself as he was racking up kills, while Gladius still waited on the defensive line. His heart sank when he reached Artie and saw the damage to his legs. The acid had bypassed the protective coating through gashes in his leg armor and corroded them from the inside out. Artie would not walk on those legs again. He would have to carried to safety.
Gladius was surprised when Lancer jumped into action. The fool. Gladius would sacrifice the three mechs on the first strike team. They had served their purpose. Volley must have fallen, since he was nowhere within sight. Larry, blinded, was still fighting. Artie was down and damaged beyond repair. His fighting days were over. However, Gladius couldn’t stand for Lancer racking up kills unabated.
He turned to Brutus and said, “Hold the Legion here. Do not follow. I’ll return in a few moments.”
Gladius strode into the fray. Lancer had defended Artie, so he would help Larry. Shield up and sword at the ready, he ran towards the blinded mech. When he reached Larry, he shouted at the mech to stop swinging and caught a blow on his shield. He directed the mech toward the defensive fortifications and commanded him to run.
With Larry heading in the right direction, Gladius let loose with sword and shield, unleashing a fury he’d kept restrained since the end of the war. He relished in destroying all screevers that came within his reach. He created a swath of destruction to where Lancer protected Artie and then, he too, fought to help cover the fallen mech.
“Thou hast finally decided to join the fray?” Lancer asked.
“I cannot let you have all the glory,” Gladius said, “but I wanted to give you a head start.”
Ajax held his breath as Artie fell and the screevers blinded Larry. He wanted to help, but Doc held him back.
“Hold on. If we go now, they’ll swarm us too.”
A few tense moments later, Doc urged Ajax forward to aid the fallen mech once Lancer and Gladius provided cover for their comrades. Ajax sprinted alongside Doc, who carried a wicked-looking mace. In his mech suit, he was now the same size as Doc and could keep the same pace. He’d designed his mech suit more for repair and engineering than combat, although he wasn’t without weapons. Like everyone else, he had a limited ammunition supply, so he’d save it for last resort defense only.
When they’d reached Artie, Lancer and Gladius fought back-to-back, keeping the screevers away from the fallen mech. Ajax surveyed Artie’s damage and shook his head. “Doc, his legs won’t be any use to him anymore.”
Doc nodded and said, “You know what you have to do, son.”
“I’m sorry, Artie, I’m going to have to cut off your legs,” Ajax said.
“Do whatever you need to do, just do it fast!” Artie shouted. “The corrosion is spreading.”
Doc swung his mace and crushed a screever that had slipped past Lancer and Gladius. The corrosion was spreading throughout Artie’s damaged legs. Ajax said a quick prayer, then activated a cutting torch he’d installed as part of his mech suit. He cut a little way above the corrosion. It was spreading fast. He had to cut faster.
Artie screamed. Not out of pain, for he didn’t feel pain in the same way humans did, but out of frustration that he was out of the fight for now, perhaps forever.
Ajax finished amputating one of Artie’s legs and started on the other. He was too busy to worry about the chaos going on around him. He focused on Artie’s remaining leg and trusted Lancer, Gladius, and Doc to watch his back. With a curse, he finished amputating Artie’s second leg.
“I need somebody to carry him back!” Ajax shouted.
Lancer heeded his call for aid and picked up Artie. The five of them retreated to the defensive line together.
The screevers didn’t stop.
Gladius returned to his position and nodded to Lancer as he did the same. It was stupid of them to have risked themselves to rescue two mechs. Yet, it showed the others the level of heroic action they needed to rise to if they were to survive the day.
As for his wager with Lancer, he feared his own thirty-eight kills paled in comparison with his rival’s. No matter, the day would provide many opportunities to catch up. Lancer appeared determined to disprove his opinion of Arcturan warriors. By his own actions, the Arcturan warrior had made progress towards that end. But the day was still young, and betrayal never came when one expected it.
