He’d use the hydraulics instead of the wheels in the truck’s undercarriage to scurry the vehicle up the limbs of the Goliath-Bot like a damn tree monkey, and once at the level of the faceplate, knock on the glass to get the pilots to open it, at which point he’d start handing out orders. Judging from the chatter Leon was hearing on the party line, the Boa-sandwiches and the mango juice spiked with spirulina were the biggest hits.
***
The Goliath-Bot pilots learned how to call for the food and refreshments truck by throwing a “bat signal” into the sky. Broadcasting from their breast plate the insignia of whatever animal that Goliath-Bot was meant to be the supreme God-like representation of.
“That’s right, you’re the electric eel on rye guy,” Server said, having responded to the Poison Dart Frog beacon being blasted into the sky. “It’s a bit confusing because I see the Frog insignia, and immediately start thinking amphibian entrees.”
“Sorry I couldn’t steal a Goliath-Bot more in keeping with my dietary preferences, big guy. But I’ll keep that in mind for round two of the boxing match. Please tell me you have some of that Assassin Bug finger food left. Just the thought of depriving the region of those parasites is enough to make me forego fish entirely.”
“Oh yeah, I have a nice dip of the stuff. Would you like some Brazil-nut chips to go with it? It’s a natural insecticide. No worries, though, the Assassin Bug poop has been turned into a more immune-system-boosting caviar-like paste.”
“You’re the man. I’ll take it all, buddy.”
***
Crumley, still sweating from his little “soccer match,” taking a break from piloting the Goliath-Bot, found his way back to Leon’s side on the forest floor.
“At least you’re not fighting with found objects again,” Leon said. “The last thing I need to see you do out here is throw pebbles at these giants.”
“You still moaning about the unexploded arsenal I found lying around in Syria and repurposed by strapping them to the bottom of those tanks? Really, Leon, you have to learn to let things go.”
Leon gave him a hard look. Decoding the wicked smile on his face. “Oh, God, what did you do this time?”
Crumley glared back at him just as defensively. “Me give up my predilections? Perish the thought.” Crumley spoke into his COM. “Time to get going with this Red Rocks concert, boys.”
Sound Man from ALPHA UNIT dialed up the heavy metal music on the field. Crumley twisted up his face. “Well, there’s no allowing for taste.”
The boulders started flying. Launched off of giant slingshots it took some of the more unsure-on-their-feet ALPHA UNIT kids piloting the Goliath-Bots to launch. No one trusted this lot wielding a Goliath-Bot in battle, but as it turned out, they could still have a place on the field wielding the slingshots.
And the trebuchets.
They fired up next.
Leon shook his head slowly, mouth wide. “You couldn’t resist the rubber trees, could you?”
“Not just the rubber trees. Shame to let all this lumber go to waste. Besides, giving the trees a chance to do some killing for a change, instead of being the subject of plunder, is real justice.”
“How the hell did you get the rubber to have the tensile strength to sustain launching boulders? You’d need some nextgen ingredient to work into the mix.”
“Oh, made that from found objects too.”
“Any other found objects I need to know about you happen to be introducing to my battlefield?” Leon said apprehensively.
“Not sure you need to know. If you were the enemy on the other hand, it’d be a real help, I can tell you.”
***
The black jaguar, a bit unnerved by his new surroundings inside the cockpit of one of the Goliath-Bots, finally overcame his fear of the unknown with his desire to fill his stomach with the two delicious meals waiting for him. They appeared to be strapped in and somewhat immobile to boot.
He launched himself away from the camouflaging black dashboard paneling at the first Goliath-Bot pilot, catching him by surprise as he jumped in his lap and growled. The Ubuku native unstrapped himself, his expression no less daunting, as he reached for the cat’s throat. Picking both of them up as he stood up, trying to strangle it and hold it away from his head at the same time.
The cat climbed him as he would a tree. Jumping onto his shoulders and performing his signature move. Piercing the skull of his prey with his second-to-none jaw-crushing capacity.
The second Ubuku native was too busy fighting off the Goliath-Bots to much worry about the jaguar right now. He multitasked between tackling anyone rampaging across the field fool enough to get near him—whereupon his Goliath-Bot’s porcupine-like spines would lodge in his attackers as he released his hold—and watching his friend get eaten. The jaguar relaxing into his meal, purring satisfiedly as he continued to tear at the flesh and lap at the blood of the human, only got roused during the tackles themselves, which would jostle him and interrupt his meal. Then he would growl menacingly at the pilot.
His Goliath-Bot had been made in homage to the Kemosabe, the prehensile porcupine native to the region. So he constrained his fighting tactics to his namesake. In reverence to the god he rode.
The Ubuku pilot smiled at the gases being emitted by the needles he’d managed to wedge into the other Goliath-Bots. It meant the humans inside were not long for this world.
Realizing what was happening to them, the latest pair of Special Ops pilots were jabbing hypodermics into themselves, one into his thigh, one into his neck, ahead of the smothering gas. Wiping the smile off the Ubuku native’s face as they continued to fight through the gas.
With their countermeasure in mind, he made sure to keep the next Goliath-Bot he tackled off balance long enough to ensure the gas got to them before their antidote could be administered. The pilot in the cabin of the enemy’s Goliath-Bot alternated between rolling around after the needle—he’d loosened his seatbelts to go after it—and staring at the smiling face of the Ubuku native taking great pleasure in bouncing him about and keeping the needle away from arm’s reach.
Finally, the pilot got the syringe into him and his copilot. And now it was his turn to smile and the Ubuku native’s turn to show fear. This was a Mortar Bot Goliath. He couldn’t afford to break the wrestling hold and give his enemy the opportunity to gain some distance on him and fire his weapon. Instead he kept him in the clinch and drove his needles into the pipes that launched the mortar shells, jamming them, daring his enemy to fire and blow them both to hell.
Instead his opponent launched a shell from one of the unclogged pipes, sending it high into the air. The Ubuku laughed at the misfire. Until it came soaring back down on him. He had no choice now but to roll clear. But he’d realized his opponent’s ploy too late. Just as pinned to the top of his adversary as his adversary was pinned to the bottom of him by his needles that just wouldn’t shake loose. He stared back in horror at White Face as White Face smiled and waved his fingers at him. The cold detachment in his adversary’s eyes was the last thing he saw as the shell blew him off his opponent.
Kemosabe Goliath-Bot landed on his back. He stood up in the cockpit, dazed and shaky, to find his robot smashed from the neck down, its innards entirely exposed, the protective housing blown clear. Only his cabin miraculously remained intact. He laughed and jumped up and down and shook his fists defiantly at his enemy.
It was the growl of the jaguar coming from behind him that reminded him where he was. He turned and the jaguar leapt. The last thing he heard was his Mortar Bot attacker speaking to him over his PA. “Don’t forget to feed your cat!”
***
“The ALPHA UNIT cadets manning the trebuchets and slingshots seem more than a little mobility challenged,” Leon remarked.
Crumley sighed. “Yes, Patent was hard pressed to put them into the line of fire until he figured out a role for their modest abilities. Turns out not everyone under the age of twenty-five is Evil Knievel with a joystick. He confer
red with me and the rest is history, or soon to be.”
Leon watched as a mesh bag full of natives was dipped into by one of the Goliath-Bots to help it fashion its play-dough-like ball of plastic explosives. The natives were pressed into the ball by the Goliath-Bot’s fingers, usually with bones breaking in the process, some of those bones skulls. Once a roughly spherical shape was achieved, the ball was set into the swinging arm of the trebuchet. The bullet properly prepared, off it was sent with its attached impact-sensor on its way to explode against an enemy Goliath-Bot on impact. The last thing the pilots in the cabin of the Goliath-Bot being targeted would see would be their fellow Ubuku warriors racing towards them in tormented agony. The effect of the psy-ops campaign evidently aimed at slowing their reflexes and diminishing their capacity to survive the blast with any countermeasures of their own. No doubt the neighboring Goliath-Bots fighting alongside the targeted one, seeing the drama unfolding, would buckle as well under the pressure. Or so it was hoped by whoever had designed this crazy attack strategy.
The ALPHA UNIT kids making the plasticized spheres with the natives supplied them in the mesh bags weren’t particularly coordinated with their Goliath-Bots, hence their utility here. They could stumble about all they wanted, dropping natives, dropping the spheres, taking longer than necessary to load the trebuchets, but still contribute significantly to the war effort while they took longer to learn the ropes. Their “special needs” status cemented by the goofy, handicapped manner in which they operated their Goliath-Bots.
“Where are you getting the bags of natives from?” Leon asked, noticing that the Ubuku were desperately trying to saw through the mesh weaves of the nets that imprisoned them with their knives and spear tips to no avail.
Crumley pointed to the still inactivated Goliath-Bots waiting to be loaded up with their Ubuku pilots. Several ALPHA UNIT kids were “picking the fruit off the trees.” Namely the Ubuku tribespeople trying to climb the Goliath-Bots along the outside to get up into the cabins in the cockpits. The ones climbing the stairs inside the limbs of the Goliath-Bots to reach the cockpits were retrieved by two or more ALPHA UNIT Goliath-Bots grabbing the inactivated enemy Goliath-Bot by the neck and shaking “the tree” until the natives fell out the trap door in the feet used to ascend the giant robots from the inside.
“Why aren’t the Ubuku giving their own people protection?” Leon asked.
“Oh, they are,” Crumley said, pointing to the two Goliath-Bots lending cover. But each time they fired a rocket or ejected some other ordinance in character for that particular Goliath-Bot animal-guide-deity, the ALPHA UNIT kids piloting the Goliath-Bots would trip under their own two feet, or bend to pick up a native that fell out of their mesh bag.
“You found a way to use their own klutziness as their best defense,” Leon said. “Inspired.”
“I thought so,” Crumley said. “Better yet, they’re carrying on my vaunted tradition of sticking to found objects to fight with.”
Leon’s expression soured. “In this case, the found objects being the natives. Smart ass.”
“A little humor helps us all to get through these inhuman times.”
“You mean these transhuman times, don’t you?”
“Whatever.”
Leon returned his attention to the “special needs” kids manning the Trebuchets. One of them dropped his ball after he’d planted the impact-grenade. It rolled on the ground a bit before going off, sending Goliath-Bots in the vicinity flying off the concussion wave. They stood back up, with concerted effort. Their dazed countenances just adding to their klutzy demeanors, and making them look only slightly more handicapped until they got their bearings again. Some of them not quite coordinated enough to wipe the stuck pieces of natives that had adhered to their Goliath-Bot suits.
Leon sighed. “Please tell me these kids have other redeeming values I’m just not seeing.”
“You’d have to ask Patent about that. But being as he’s the hardest hard-ass I know, I’m going to go out on a limb and say, yeah.”
***
The Bird Men, taking a beating, regrouped. Summoning back their attachments until their dress regalia had reformed around them and they looked like giant ceremonial-head-gear-wearing Indians again. Once more they danced with their head, arm, leg, wrist and ankle bands to the rhythms of the drums to lock in their trance and summon their courage for another round.
***
“It’s dark and has been for quite a while now,” a voice said over the party line. “What he means is, we can turn tail and run now and no one will even notice. Not in this darkness.” “Did Truman say that tomorrow they were going to take things up a notch? Because honestly, I’m notched out.”
“Tomorrow’s another day, guys,” Leon said. “Shake it off.”
“Shake it off? I need a chiropractor just to stand still! If I even try to touch my toes right now I could permanently paralyze myself.” The line was temporarily overcome with snorting and panting. Then, mouth breather weighed in, “Lucky you. As it is I can’t feel my legs.” “My legs have so much lactic acid build up they’re locking up for entirely different reasons. Tell me those kangaroos come with med kits in their pouches and know how to give CPR and can drag my ass out of this deathtrap.” “You bet ya.” “Marty, is that you? I could kiss you right now, but that would just kill the whole kangaroo romance thing I have going on in my head.” “You’re seriously pondering getting mouth to mouth from a kangaroo right now?” “Is that the animal rights guy? Look, pal, for a ride inside her pouch back to safety, I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting on her hand and foot.” “I can’t believe we’ve been fighting all day and all night. Where did the time go?” “It’s the absorbing nature of our work. I for one shit myself hours ago, and not from fear. I just didn’t think I could handle any more multitasking.”
“All right, guys,” Leon said cutting in to the COM chatter. “You’ll notice Cassandra is the only one I don’t hear complaining. I hope that just turns your outies into innies from sheer embarrassment.”
“Maybe she died sitting next to you and you just didn’t notice.” “What a way to go.” Yeah, a real warrior’s death.” “I’m so jealous.”
She looked at Leon and smiled. “Do these guys ever come up for air?”
“The last time they hosted Saturday Night Live, it turned into a 72 hour telethon. They collected like fifty million and change before the jokes started dying down. By then I think their throats were just too raw for anyone to hear the one-liners anymore.”
She shook her head with a condescending smile. “Surprised you don’t fight alongside more women, like the Ubuku. They can help take the edge off. Men forget about their own fears fighting to protect the ones they love.”
He thought about how much fighting alongside her had settled his nerves.
“Hey, women are great for a port in the storm, but when you’re in the middle of the storm, you know?”
She gave him a queer look.
“Sorry, didn’t mean for that to sound sexist. Just that, for these guys, they don’t want crawling into a woman’s arms to remind them of all this. They want it to be a gravity well every bit as inescapable. You may be the first woman they’ve ever fought alongside of.”
She snorted. “I don’t think anyone will be confusing my arms for a port in the storm any time soon. In battle I turn cold as ice. Complete sociopathic serial killer.”
“What do you call this?”
“A field exercise in the proper use of new weaponry.” She gave him a hard look. “Seriously, what’s with the dearth of women in OMEGA FORCE?”
Leon smiled, realizing she’d seen through him. “ALPHA UNIT has them. We just haven’t had any graduate to OMEGA FORCE yet. Just a matter of time.”
Leon thought about her earlier comment. “Sociopathic mode works. Can’t beat it for efficiency. Not sure you earn much style points though. And after seeing you on the balance beam today, all those bad-ass handless cartwheels and somersaults? I’d s
ay there’s another part of you aching to get out.”
She gave him a weak, aborted smile. He smiled warmly as if he was happy to get that.
“Time to hatch out of these cocoons unless we want to use them to dig our own graves,” Leon said. He took his hands and feet off the controls. Unstrapped himself. Stood up and cracked his back with a couple twists either direction.
He glanced back for her and noticed she was already out of the compartment. Sliding down the slopes of the robot like Silver Surfer, feet first, riding a crashing wave. “There you go. Always good to see you styling.”
***
“What’s the headcount look like, Patent?” Leon said into the COM, shifting to a frequency for their ears only with a double tap on his earpiece. Leon’s bird’s eye view of the battlefield, provided by his seating arrangements inside one of the Goliath-Bots still could only do so much for him. Luckily the field had been largely leveled of trees in the wake of the Goliath-Bots battling with one another throughout the course of the day. Or he’d be unable to see anything across the flat terrain.
Perhaps “luckily” wasn’t the right term exactly.
Patent’s voice, after some delay, came in staticy over the mike, the hiccups in reception reflecting his reticence at conveying the news. “Going by the tracking units fitted to each ALPHA UNIT member, which also monitors their vital signs…” Again Patent paused, this time so Leon would understand these weren’t vague, hazy figures he was giving him, subject to revision and hopeful thinking. “We lost twelve to this practice game. When the season starts in earnest tomorrow, that number will likely increase.”
Mind of a Child: Sentient Serpents (OMEGA FORCE and ALPHA UNIT Book 1) Page 28
