I leaned on the console in the room, looking at a series of lights without seeing them, feeling my mouth move as it seemed to bypass my brain’s own wants and hopes for another to take over. For someone with a real plan, instead of the hashed together mess I was creating, to do what needed to be done for me.
There was no one coming. There was just me.
“All right. If they need Commander Salchar, then they’ll get him,” I whispered, iron in my tone as I stood slowly and donned my helmet. My face took on an emotionless mask. I wondered what in the hell I’d just done, and why. Though I saw in that moment the uncertainty and fear that lay behind Yasu’s face clearly, it was a look that I had seen on every commando’s face, making it seem to be the norm. I would take that burden of fear and uncertainty; I would take the blame. And I would win.
I knew I had to leave my old self behind. Softness was going to have to become steel. I needed to change—to not play at being Commander Salchar, but to actually be him.
I wasn’t the gamer genius Salchar who played Mecha Assault Two. I was Commander Salchar and I would do anything to keep my people alive. I had no family; but I had one—twenty thousand big. They may not like me, trust me, or even want me alive, but regardless, I was going to do everything in my power to get them home and keep them safe.
I checked my weapons over automatically as I walked through the power plant, mentally preparing myself as I walked to the shuttle.
The medics and first aiders greeted me with silent nods. Third team was still there, waiting outside as I walked inside.
The teammate of the now dead soldier sat, puffy-eyed, looking at the seats her partner lay on, unable to cry as her eyes had run dry. An attendant with her tried to rise as I came in the room, startling her as she tried to do the same. I waved them down as I walked in front of the crying second team member, squatting so I was eye-to-eye with her.
“Commander Salchar.” She stumbled over the words and wiped her eyes, trying to come to attention in her seat.
I touched her arm with a light hand. “Please, call me James. My friends do.” I gave her a sad but kind smile.
“Uh, yes.” She nodded shakily.
“What’s your name?”
“Hitomi Robertson... Niiya now.” She looked to be gearing up for another crying session. I brought her into a hug, our Mechas clanking as she rested on my Mecha’s armored outer layer.
“Come on, Hitomi. Let’s go grab some food.”
“But Steven—”
“He’s with his ancestors now and he wouldn’t want you to starve or be in pain on his account, would he?” I looked at her as she averted her eyes.
“No,” she said quietly to the floor.
“Come on, follow me.” I helped her get to her feet, letting her rest most of her weight on me. I numbly walked out of the shuttle and into the mess with her feeling like lead. I settled her at one of the makeshift tables we’d created in the room we’d turned into our mess.
“Yasu, I need your help,” I said over a private communication channel as I grabbed a plate of warmed rations.
“What with?”
“Hitomi. We need to get her fed and hopefully get her to sleep.”
“Where are you?”
“In the mess.”
“Bring her to our quarters.”
“We have quarters?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes.” Her harsh tone returned before she calmed down. “Never mind. I’ll come and find you.”
She did so with a group of other Japanese-looking women. Hitomi barely looked up, having not touched her food except in mild gestures, more for me than herself.
“Hi Hitomi, I’m Yasu. Let’s get you out of that Mecha.”
Hitomi nodded numbly as Yasu and the other women whisked Hitomi off. I continued eating my rations, others soberly nodding to me as I ate.
After some time of being left with my thoughts, they returned, now both Yasu and Hitomi in new battle suits. Yasu was at her side, both of them talking in low voices.
Yasu signaled to me to follow. I did so as they walked outside, into the now night sky. They sat along the wall of the power plant, looking up instead of out at the beauty of the night sky, the four moons visible.
The desert was bathed in a low blue glow, the moons green, purple, silver, and pink. I stared at the moons and the stars for a long time, feeling infinitesimally small. Yet another biotic life in a teeming mass of them, barely a figure of note in the plan of things.
After a few minutes of reflection, I moved to join Yasu and Hitomi.
“You and James are so perfect, though. Steven and I, we always had problems; we always fought and swore at each other. I wish our marriage was a calm one like yours, but it was destined to be another way.”
Both Yasu and I snorted at the same time at that. We looked at each other for the first time, I think ever, without open hostility, for maybe half a second. Then she looked at me as if I were something to be scraped off her shoe and then burned in an incinerator.
“We have one of the worst marriages that I know of.” I grinned as I sat down opposite them, taking off my helmet and gauntlets.
“Quite possibly. I don’t know many others that are as cataclysmically wrong as our marriage,” Yasu added.
Hitomi looked at us with confusion written on her face. I leapt in to explain.
“First off, before this, we were gamers. I was the leader of a group called Mecha Tail and played some games. Then a new game that relied on physical input came onto the market, made by her father.” I pointed at Yasu.
“MT had to drop out to get used to the new input. While we were training, she created a team called Samurai’s Revenge. A team of actual fighters, making her my team’s biggest rival. Plus, messages by the media didn’t help our rivalry. The day we were recruited, Yasu and I were going to finally have our showdown to see which was the better team—SR or MT.
“They apparently thought we were dishonorable warriors. While we thought of them as pompous shits.” I stared at Yasu, who had the decency to look abashed as Hitomi let go a smile.
“Plus, I mostly lived in Korea and as you know, things between Koreans and Japanese have still not fully healed. Then she stabbed me and the rest is history.” I grinned.
“She stabbed you?” Hitomi’s eyes went wide as she looked between us.
“The idiot launched himself at me while I had my sword ready, so he speared himself. Then held onto me as he knocked my visor off and then me out. Was not the way I was expecting to get a proposal. Wasn’t the worst one, though, I’ve heard by many accounts.” A certain amount of pride filled Yasu’s voice. “In our marriage, we don’t fight as much as we’re cold to each other, and we try to interact as minimally as possible. We haven’t shared our wedding bed yet.”
My cheeks reddened, shocked that she was saying such things. Though I guess it had all built up. She was finally getting her opportunity to speak and she was taking it.
“No! You haven’t consummated the marriage?” Hitomi asked, looking aghast.
“No.”
“Well, you have been busy. Plus, it seems there are a lot of issues between you two. I also sense that you two aren’t big talkers, which is harsh on any relationship. You two need to work through your issues, not try to dodge them and then each other. You’re married legally both in the galaxy and on Earth; there’s nothing much more binding or official than that,” she said with a small, sad smile, obviously thinking of other things.
“So what did you do before you did this?” I asked as I tried to steer her away from painful memories.
“I wrote and drew manga. I was working on a new series when I was recruited.” Anger clouded her face. “There has to be some rule against just plucking us from the face of our home planet, throwing us at one another in fights, and declare we’re trained. Then ship us off with nothing much more than brawling experience and Mechas to war. It’s so unfair!” Her eyes were looking thunderous now as Yasu comforted her and shot m
e a look that would’ve burned through armor.
Then Hitomi looked to me. “They really are the Syndicate, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and something has to be done about them. The reality is that if we don’t, no one else is going to damned well do it for us. We have to stand up for one another, no matter the odds because our species, planet, and everything that we claim to make us human hangs in the balance. If we fail, we risk losing everything.”
“You should’ve been a politician instead of a soldier. I’d vote for you every time,” she said as I grinned.
“Yeah, but then I’d have to wear a suit and look at other twerps wearing suits. I’m not really a suit guy. At least one that isn’t coated in armor plating—makes my thighs look way too fat otherwise.” I shrugged in my two-ton Mecha, eliciting another small smile from Hitomi, which warmed my heart and had brought me out of my numbness more than any time I could’ve spent staring at a wall.
“This place might be deadly but the sky is beautiful. I’m happy Steven was able to die on such a breathtaking planet such as this one, instead of some sewage planet far away from Earth,” she said sadly. Yasu rubbed Hitomi’s hands as we all looked at the picturesque landscape, drawing what peace we could from the jewel-encrusted heavens.
“It may not seem like it, Hitomi, but Steven’s death will not be in vain. I promise you that.”
She locked eyes with me. “Thank you.”
I nodded as we returned our glances to the beautiful sky. I wonder whether aliens would think Earth’s sky is beautiful. The three of us sat in companionable silence.
A Mecha I recognized came over as the squad leader on duty whispered into my ear so no one listening to our communications would know what we were talking about. I stood, careful to not disturb Hitomi, who’d fallen asleep on Yasu, who was watching the area.
Generals
The squad leader on duty requested a private channel to me, the chirrup alarming me as my movements shook off the dust that had landed on me.
“Sir, the general has been trying to get in contact with you ever since the accident.”
“On my way to the command center.” I tried my best to quietly move into the power plant before quickly marching the rest of the way.
Turek was either asleep or with the squads not in the room. I connected to the communicator, which blinked with incoming messages. In front of me appeared General Carsickle, surrounded by a staff who suddenly went quiet and wide-eyed.
He backed up for a second, trying to regain his composure. I don’t know whether it was because of the hologram suddenly projecting out of the communications unit or because of the fearsome sight I made in my deadly Mecha. On my own screen, I could barely make out the small screen that displayed what he could see. I grunted as I noticed part of a blade in my armor still. I’m like a sword friggin’ magnet. I growled as I pulled it out and threw it away.
“Ah, Commander,” he said, placatingly.
“Shut up,” I said, my voice a whisper as I held my burning anger in check. My own staff, consisting of my squad and those squad commanders awake and not on duty, flanked me in the room, their hard eyes focused on the general.
His mouth closed audibly as he and, behind him, everyone remained frozen like statues, not a twitch in sight.
“You have gotten the new orders of a one-hundred-kilometer boundary.”
“Yes.”
“Good. If so much as one person passes the set boundaries around each area we hold, I will personally rip out every military installation you have and destroy anything that could be used as a weapon, down to a kitchen knife,” I said. “Do you understand me?” I asked in the same deadly whisper, leaning forward into the pickup.
“Yes.” He gulped, his scales glistening.
“You or anyone else gets in the way of my men, they will be killed. We were kind; we were forgiving. I armed as many men as I could with stun rounds to stop casualties; I even had my people return those they had captured. This sign of kindness was replied with attacks on every power plant we hold. You killed over a hundred of my people, one even as I was returning wounded yet again to you. Your foolishness has cost you an ally.”
“An ally?” He looked more shocked than when I’d first opened the holographic projector on the communicator.
“I didn’t say you could speak, did I, General?”
I paused the communication, turning to the communications tech. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. Eddie’s running interference on his end.”
“Good.” I re-activated the communications unit.
“Now, listen carefully, Carsickle, I will not repeat myself. If any of this is repeated or asked of any of us, we will deny it completely. You may give it to your government but any leak and we will crush everyone involved.” I scanned the group of very scared-looking natives as I took a breath. I turned and paced.
“We call ourselves humans; we come from a planet called Earth. A short time ago, we were abducted from our planet and trained to use these steel death machines to keep the free systems safe. All I know is that there are twenty thousand humans under my command. I do not know of the rest of my race, or even of my planet. These people with me could be the last of my race in existence. Now, how would you feel after being enslaved and given only that information and then find out that a hundred more are now dead?
“You still have a planet; your people are in the billions. Why are you putting all of that at risk by killing a few of an endangered race?”
Emotions warred on Carsickle’s face. Something at least had hit home.
“Whatever you might say, it doesn’t deny the fact that you’re working for the Syndicate, whether unwillingly or willingly,” he said sadly, seemingly slumping in his seat, sorrow on his face before he continued. “Look at it from my point of view. You came to our planet, took our power plants, your captains demand a fee to stop these attacks as well as threaten us with annihilation with our own power plants.” He looked into my eyes and at the others in the room with me. “The Syndicate is a criminal organization that goes around the backwater planets of the Union.”
“I know,” I said simply as he sputtered, looking at me, wide-eyed.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?”
“We aren’t on the ships, as you can see, and we need to integrate with each ship’s system. Also, my people are not completely convinced that the groups that hold the ships are indeed the Syndicate.”
“You are the slave of terrorists, pirates, and thieves. Your captains take from us the means to live and are the ones threatening us with death! Yet you think that they might be good? You take time before taking away the very weapons they hold to the throats of innocents!”
“Prove it,” I said, ending his tirade.
“What?” His scales rippled in anger.
“Prove that we’re pirates. Prove we’ve made threats that we will destroy this planet for money and greed.”
“Get me the communication records now!” he demanded, returning my glare.
I found the information being sent through the communicator to my Mecha, which I passed out to everyone awake, as well as every leader and commander.
I turned as the first shower of sparks came from a computer tower as one Mecha let their rage out; another punched through the wall as I cut off the feed to the general.
“Don’t destroy the important shit,” I growled as the Mechas restrained themselves to punching their palms as they watched the communications between the Golden Refuge’s captain and the governor of Chaleel.
On one side of the screen were the Chaleelians. The governor looked extremely nervous as he sat in a room with important-looking people around a desk.
“What do you need, oh benevolent captain of the Golden Refuge, for us to keep living our lives?” the leader of the Chaleelian people asked.
The captain was on the other side of the screen, wearing the finest clothes I’d ever seen. They looked like liquid gold and he lay on a sim
ilarly golden lounger of some kind.
Let me guess where the Golden Refuge got its name from.
He had eye stalks coming from a similar-looking human face except for the much larger and indented nose. I could see his large feet curled underneath him. His arms were thin till they reached his hands, which were huge and webbed, looking like a fish fin but with two opposable digits and seven fingers like appendages. His skin looked blue and translucent without being able to see through it.
He laid on his lounger, listing demands that our translators fed to our brains, as smaller aliens of his species fed him food and tended to his needs. The ship looked like a palace with rare metals shining in the background, an array of expensive and intricate trophies along the walls. It didn’t take a genius to see the flagrant wealth of the captain in front of us.
“You will give eighty percent of your production to the Syndicate every year. You will also disarm your fighting forces. If my demands are not met, then I will have my soldiers blow the power stations they are in, killing off your entire species and making Chaleel a wasteland that no one could live on for a millennium without a suit and radiation treatment.”
I saw the leader swallow as they absorbed this. I was still unable to tell whether it was male or female.
“Your benevolence, we cannot survive by giving eighty percent of our production to you. We will not have enough to trade or to sustain ourselves.”
“You will not trade with any others; you will be a planet of the Syndicate, your only use to supply us with your products. Twenty percent of your production is generous,” the captain said dismissively, as if they were the ones demanding him to hand over their life blood.
“But Captain!”
“Every year, you will increase the output by ten percent as in accordance with your estimated growth.”
“We can’t sustain that!”
Free Fleet Box Set 1 Page 26
