Metal Warrior: Ring of Steel (Mech Fighter Book 7)

by James David Victor

  “Doesn’t sound much safer than just opening them, boys,” Otepi pointed out, but Corsoni was already working on it, using his suit controls to command the ship to start packing in atmospheric pressure into their hold. Dane and the others watched it rise steadily on the small scanning metrics inside their faceplate’s heads-up displays, as Bruce started packing the door seal with the small deployment of explosives that they had been given.

  “At least we’ll be out there,” Corsoni said to Otepi, gesturing to the alien seas outside. “And not stuck in a collapsing spaceship. Ready?”

  “Not really . . .” Isaias managed to say.

  “Huddle in the center! Lock arms. Don’t have any limbs exposed!” Bruce was saying as he stepped back for all of the marines: Dane, Bruce, Otepi, Corsoni, Hendrix, Farouk, and Isaias to form a tight huddle in the middle of the hold, as Bruce counted down from five, four, three . . .

  “Magnetize suits!” Dane called, setting his own up to high so that his suit slammed closer to the others around him.

  Two and . . .

  Cheng activated his suit controls, sending a microburst of information to the explosives on the door—

  WHOOM!

  There was a flash, and then the tight huddle of marines, glued together by magnetism and no small amount of desperation, were sent hurtling forward in a moment of noise, pressure, and water. A shockwave struck them, and Dane felt the ball of metal bodies start to break apart as they were pounded by the weight of the alien ocean.

  “Gagh!” One of them was shouting, but Dane did not know who it was. Metal slid along metal, and his own HUD was shouting that he was submerged in water. Fortunately, it also showed atmospheric seals were good, but that his oxygen would only last for a limited number of hours.

  Everything was a whirling chaos of metal and deep blue—until suddenly it wasn’t. Their explosive bubble had fragmented, and they were dropping through the dark blues as fast as, well, as fast as a man in a seven-foot metal suit, dropped into a sea.

  Dane struggled to swim, but his suit as well as that of the others were too heavy to do so. Luckily for them, the sea was not deep here, and they each hit the soft, white-sand surface of the sea floor, with the stranded might of the Gladius behind them, surrounded by strings of bubbles.

  “Gold Squad report!” Dane called, and he heard his own squad of marines report back that they were indeed alive, and, although scattered over the seabed, none of them was injured.

  It was hard to move the weight of his suit, but Dane saw a flare of turbulent plumes in the water. Otepi was firing the pulse thrusters on the backs of her suit to make large, leaping bounds towards them.

  “Well done, I suppose,” she said as she crunched into the seabed beside Dane, her boots sending up vast swathes of white sand. “We’re at the base of a sea cliff. Broken rocks. We should be able to climb it to the surface.”

  Dane could see the jumbled rise of dark rocks behind her, scaling upwards and back until they finally broke the surface entirely. Dane nodded that he was good to go and was about to turn to check with the others, when something happened near the base of those sea cliffs.

  A brilliant light was shining like a flood light out at them.

  “What the?” Dane managed to whisper, as he felt his suit rising easily in the water.

  “Williams!” Otepi gasped beside him, as she, too, was rising in the light. “What is it? It’s some kind of tractor beam!”

  Tractor beam? Dane shook his head. That was the stuff of sci-fi movies, not real life.

  But the light was growing stronger, and he could not deny that they were now being drawn, flailing through the seas, to the base of the cliff and the glare of the brilliant white light.

  It looked to Dane as though the Travelers had finally deigned to notice them.

  “Bruce? Joey?” The brilliance fell from Dane’s eyes. He saw that he was standing in a room. A pristine, white room that was vaulted and extended before them for at least a hundred and fifty feet, by his guess. Even though the walls were made of the same opaque crystal substance that they had seen radiating across the surface, it was not glaringly bright. A soft light pervaded everything, encouraging a gentle calm.

  But calm was kept from Dane’s mind as he turned to see that the rest of his crew, everyone from Bruce, Joey, to the three Privates, lay on the floor of the crystal room, apparently unconscious. Only Otepi was standing before him.

  “What’s wrong with them!?” Dane moved to the side of his oldest friend and comrade, Sergeant Bruce Cheng.

  >AMP SUIT / Medical Scanners / Cheng, Bruce (SGT) . . .

  >>All biological readings OK . . .

  “They’re fine,” Dane said, confusedly looking up at Otepi. “They just seem to be . . . asleep?”

  “They are not needed,” a voice said—and one that came out of Otepi’s mouth, even though it was not her own.

  “Fracking stars!” Dane fought the urge to skid back from the unearthly voice that sounded from Otepi’s lips and through his suit channels. It was too strange. Like the words and the speaker barely fit inside the human captain. When Dane looked at her eyes, he saw that they appeared glazed somehow, as if drugged.

  “What is happening!? Otepi? Can you hear me!?” Dane hissed, rising to his feet and reaching for his weapon.

  Which was gone. His pulse rifle was gone. As was everyone else’s, he noted just as quickly.

  >AMP SUIT / Medical Scanners / Otepi, Marianne (CAPT) . . .

  >>Physical readings OK . . . Irregular brainwave activity . . .

  Dane’s medical scanner chirped at him. There was something up with Otepi’s brainwaves—a fact that appeared painfully obvious, when faced with the woman. She was already turning away from him to walk down the hallway.

  “Come,” she said in that slightly resonant voice. “We have commandeered the use of Captain Otepi’s body as the most senior ranking hierarchical member of your social subgrouping.”

  What? Dane thought.

  “And now you will be inducted into the next phase . . .”

  “I’m not leaving my—our—crew!” Dane insisted.

  “Then you will have to return to your craft and raise it from the waters yourself,” Otepi, or the voice that inhabited her, said with Dane was sure was wry humor. “And I believe that, from our analysis, you do not have the adequate skills to that task.”

  “Wake up Joey Corsoni, and I’m sure . . .” Dane started, before Otepi (or whoever Otepi was now) abruptly turned on her heel.

  “You have your freedoms, Sergeant Dane Williams. And that is to stay here or to prove to us that you are worthy of our investment. You were already fully aware of your desires when you came here, as were we.”

  “You’re the Travelers,” Dane muttered, mostly in awe to himself. He got no response, as it seemed evident.

  “I see you’re not great ones for small talk either,” he muttered as he jogged to catch up with Otepi, who remained stoic and silent as she reached the mid-part of the hall and paused.

  “At least tell me if you are going to help us. Against the Exin?” Dane asked, and Otepi’s eyes flickered inside her faceplate.

  “That is yet to be decided.”

  Suddenly, around them extended a line of light, racing across unseen cracks in the floor and turning corners until it formed a large, glowing octagon on the floor.

  “Decided by what?” Dane asked warily as he felt something shift inside the floor.

  “By you, Sergeant Williams,” Otepi said, as the entire octagonal section of the floor rose, seemingly entirely on its own without any hydraulics of pistons or supports, and up towards the ceiling—where an exactly corresponding octagon of crystal lit up and disappeared upwards. Dane had never seen the like of this technology. It was the use of semi-autonomous force fields that could seemingly remain stable and affect the grosser matter around them. It was pulse technology of a sort—but nothing that he had ever believed possible.

  Are there emitters? Engines? Particle a
ccelerators? Magnets? Dane had no idea as they moved through the ceiling. They found themselves in a similarly large space, but this time in open air and surrounded by more crystal structures.

  Dane gasped. It was as if an entire cityscape had been made of quartz, as though naturally grown out of the very bedrock itself. But these shapes—these huge wedges that were several stories high and these smaller walls, columns, and apparent domes were too exact in their spacing. He was in the center of some kind of plaza, the earth red and dusty. There were no plants. Just red earth and crystalline cities.

  “How did you . . . I mean . . .” Dane blinked. “Is this natural? Did you build this?”

  Otepi, or the Travelers that rode Otepi, seemed as though they were going to say nothing for a moment, before she appeared to flinch and turn slightly to the sergeant.

  “Your organic spatial grouping is still in its infancy,” they said and stepped forward from the crystal octagon in the floor, leading the way deeper into the maze of buildings.

  A thousand questions filled Dane’s mind. How much more was there to learn (clearly, a lot)? What was the secret to their technology? Where were the Travelers? How old were they?

  And one other question.

  “Why are you using Otepi like this?” Dane demanded. “I have a right to know. She has a right to know.”

  “Does she?” the Otepi that was not Otepi said as they marched. “Proprietorial ownership of one’s current agglomeration of gross matter is only one way of perceiving agency and autonomy in the universe, Sergeant Williams.”

  “Huh?” Dane asked.

  A pause, like a pained sigh, and then Otepi spoke again. “You would not comprehend our current inhabited state, Sergeant Williams. It would take too long for you to understand what you were seeing and then to communicate with us—time that I believe that your particular organic spatial grouping does not have.”

  Well, at least you’re speaking sense now! Dane thought. So, these Passed On had a sense of urgency, at least. Was it the Exin ship of the War Master Okruk up there right now? Or were they referring to the Tol’rumaa?

  “No. Yes,” Otepi said as she led the way, as if answering his thoughts.

  “Wait, I didn’t say anything,” Dane protested.

  “You do not have to. Your organic compounds and behavior modes logically anticipate the development of your thoughts.” The Otepi that was not Otepi paused once again. “Which is why it is a struggle to explain to your organic spatial grouping at this time. We have long since discovered that there are deeper currents to biological and mind-matter development which are generally best left to unfold at their own pace. However . . .” the alien-inside-Otepi paused once more.

  “Okay . . .” Dane was struggling to keep up with what the Traveler in a human suit was saying.

  “Your thinking pattern brought you to the risk-survival assessment of consequences, and naturally, that is mostly focused on your grouping’s current survival when faced with the Exin device known as the Tol’rumaa.”

  “So yeah, you can read my mind,” Dane paraphrased.

  “Organic spatial groupings naturally reach a state when they contemplate, and have the ability to deliver, a weapon capable of destroying civilizations. It is the battle between organic mechanisms of fight, freeze, feed, and flight versus technical mastery,” the Otepi stated. “Unfortunately, not many organic spatial groupings make it past this stage of their development.”

  At least there was sense to that too. Dane knew all about the Super-X thermonuclear devices that his own world had developed. Even now, in the age of the Exin, there were missile silos all over the world’s old Cold War and New Industry countries packed with enough firepower to wipe out whatever half of the planet they desired.

  And suddenly Dane saw the point: the Tol’rumaa was one such weapon. Or the next version of that arms race. A weapon that could destroy entire cultures, if enough of them were fired. One that could stop any “organic spatial grouping”—as these Travelers called culture and species and civilizations—from ever reaching the same level of development as the Travelers.

  “Precisely. I see that you have reached the same conclusion. Weapons such as the Tol’rumaa could even feasibly destroy this planet we are standing upon. Which would not be a great blow to our supra mind-matter configuration, but it would mean that this place would cease to be a point of contact between our existence and yours.”

  Dane saw that the inhabitant said “yours” like the Traveler was referring not only to humanity, but to the Exin as well. Perhaps others too.

  “. . . which would be perhaps . . . unfortunate for this side of the galaxy,” the Traveler went on to say. “And unfortunate for us, as we are in the process of continuing our exploration of super-galactic groupings.”

  Other galaxies? With other civilizations like the Travelers? Dane’s mind boggled at the revelations that were now coming thick and fast.

  “. . . as well, of course, as exploring temporal non-state existence. It would be a shame if one half of an entire galaxy reduced its development potential.” At this, Otepi turned around to face Dane.

  “We continue, Sergeant Dane Williams. We play. We develop. We thrive. That is the only sufficient law of the universe that we have as yet ascertained. One day, perhaps, your particular organic spatial grouping known as humanity will occupy our space, or perhaps move beyond what our own existence has achieved. That is why we are deigning to induct you.”

  “Induct me?” Dane asked a little warily. It sounded like it might hurt. There might even be a probe or two involved.

  “You are locked in a developmental struggle with the grouping you call the Exin. We will not decide who wins, as we cannot ascertain whether you or the Exin will be capable of developing beyond mere warlike behaviors. However, the Exin now threaten this planet as well as your own. We are willing to even the developmental struggle between your races for this crucial period in your story.”

  The Otepi that was not Otepi raised a hand, and something moved from between the crystalline walls.

  A large something—and it looked like some kind of a Mech.

  18

  Induction

  It was two-legged and stood easily twelve or fourteen feet tall and almost as wide. Its legs were backwards-jointed, but they were clad with smoothed shards of something like iridescent crystal, a mixture between metals and mother of pearl, interspersed with darker, more obvious metals.

  Its central body was really a large wedge shape that flared at its back into dazzling brilliant fans like feathered horns. And hanging from its sides were two three-jointed hands, each one ending in four vice-like talons.

  Dane had seen configurations somewhat similar to these—the War Walkers of Captain Otepi herself, or the giant Exin Mega Mech creations (although they were more buglike). This, however, appeared both massive and moved with gentle grace, as delicately as a stork stepping through reeds.

  She is exquisite, Dane thought.

  And she was also raising her nose cone towards them, and Dane saw three circles starting to flash at him.

  “First, Sergeant Dane Williams, because your particular organic spatial grouping is still predicated upon mammalian survival modes—you will have to survive this,” the Captain Otepi said, before leaping out of the way—as the Traveler Mech fired.

  Frack! Dane leapt to one side as a solid beam of flaming blue-white light burnt through the air his body had been occupying.

  He was still in his AMP suit, thankfully, so the thumping land and roll across the red earth didn’t hurt at all. But when compared to the metal predator that was coming for him, Dane felt like his suit was little more than tin foil.

  That thing could crush me as easily as standing on an egg! he knew as he turned, his hand moving to his side . . .

  Dammit! No pulse rifle. That meant he only had his field weapons.

  The creature was stepping forward in a light and delicate manner, swiveling its body as smoothly as he might turn his head.<
br />
  Dane moved, leaping behind the nearest vaulted archway of crystal, for there to be an incandescent shower of light and sparks from behind him, and—

  A dazzling display of lines as the pulse beam shot by the Traveler’s Mech was diffused into a dozen smaller particles. Then, when those smaller beams struck the opposing crystal walls around, they refracted again, becoming weaker and weaker with every subsequent dispersal until they were little more than fingers of light.

  Dane breathed for a half-second as an idea formulated . . .

  His hands had found the Field Halligan usually magnet-secured on one side of his back. He had instinctively eschewed the blade itself, as he was sure that it would do nothing against the metal hide of the beast.

  Is there a creature inside of it? A person? Dane had no idea if there was an “organic” occupant at all, or if there was—just what form that it might take.

  No matter. He held up the Halligan and darted down the avenue of crystal arches, as the creature behind turned swiftly, shooting pulse-laser light at him.

  WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! At least three shots hit the dirt, but a further two hit the crystal frame, causing it to judder behind him and explode with refracted light. One of these fingers of thinner light rebounded and hit Dane’s suit.

  >Suit Impact! Backplate 95% . . .

  Dane didn’t even feel the blow, but at a five percent loss of his outer plate integrity, it was nothing to worry about. Unless he got hit a whole heap more times.

  Dane skidded to a pause before he reached the end of the crystal avenue and then, just as his strategy had predicted . . .

  WHAM! A solid beam of blue light struck the ground where he would have been fleeing. The Traveler Mech had predictive targeting software.