Starkindler (MechaVerse Series Book 1)

by Jeremy Cunkle

  The bottom percentiles of the second cull had been sent to form a type of government sponsored militia, composed of mindless thugs solely bent on imposing fear to break down the will of the swelling populace as all such forces had done throughout history. Where they proved insufficient to the cause, the majority of candidates became foot soldiers in the army, forming the backbone of the Mars Industries police state. Daegot became a component in one of the most important cogs within this giant gearbox; piloting Mech armor as the ultimate type of enforcer the system was capable of producing. He and his fellow pilots were the very top of the pyramid, and they relished the power and privilege that came with it.

  Daegot fully understood just how great his new life had become when he witnessed firsthand the ultimate power over others’ lives that he and his fellow pilots now held. They had been at a party, an informal gathering at an Officer’s bar on base celebrating a birthday. Someone managed to smuggle a case full of expensive liquor from Earth onto the base and the group of Officers soon found themselves far down the weaving path of drunkenness.

  They were being served by some of the militia trainees who, during this part of their training were fed daily doses of drugs that slowly ate away their ability to feel physical pain and limit their higher cognitive abilities. The trainee’s minds were little more than mush, their thoughts muddled by the drugs in combination with the physical exhaustion that took place from their over worked bodies. This made them the ideal image of what was needed by their masters, dogs to be ordered around fetching items, only to be occasionally unleashed.

  An emaciated, half-dead trainee fresh from a recent beating was serving them in the Officer’s party. On his way to the table he was serving with freshly poured drinks, the trainee tripped and spilled the tray carrying two glasses of the priceless smuggled liquor. At the table, an Officer known throughout the base for his deep malevolent streak became the unintended recipient of the trays spilled contents. The Officer immediately started to beat the unfortunate trainee when a compatriot handed him a cord and with a cruel smile encouraged him to choke the hapless creature. The Officer took the cord, staring at it momentarily before having a better idea. With a savage grin, he handed it to the trainee.

  “Choke yourself.” He said, holding out the cord.

  “Sir?” The trainee asked, still on his knees, looking up in despair for clarification.

  “That’s an order, drone, for ruining my favorite jacket.” The Officer spat onto the floor, theatrically displaying his disgust at having to speak to a drone.

  The entire bar watched in silent amazement as the trainee took the cord from the Officer’s hands, shaking as he wrapped it around his neck, and choked himself to death because the Officer never told him when to stop. It was that moment when Daegot realized his life’s purpose, and coveted all of the power that came with his new position just as much as the other pilot’s within the newly formed PDF Mech armor Corp. From that moment on, he wished for nothing more than ultimate power, seeing anyone who challenged his or his master’s authority as chaff to be thoughtlessly cast aside, ground down underneath his boots.

  * * * * *

  The Strident moved into open terrain. Daegot relied on his own visual power, recognizing the limits of his units limited sensors. He was intentionally trying to draw the unseen enemy out into the open where he could then engage and destroy it. Moving in a wide arc across the open plain, he slipped side to side at random intervals as he waited to catch anything that gave away the enemies’ position.

  Mikkhael smiled despite himself; the audacity of the enemy pilot earned his respect. Challenge accepted. He moved Starkindler from the ravine he had been gliding down and onto the edge of the plain where he halted in plain view. The Strident pilot saw him almost immediately despite Starkindler’s active camouflage and turned to face him. Mikkhael ordered Aurora to disengage the camouflage, acknowledging the primal desire of the pilot before him to fight him one-on-one.

  They both stopped and faced each other like oversized boxers squaring off across the ring at the start of a match, looking across the gap that separated them and knowing they would close it momentarily with frightening violence. They let the knowledge of the imminent moment soak in as each planned the first steps they would take that would dictate most of the fight to come. In a span of time lasting mere seconds, they mentally prepared themselves to willfully commit murder, and then without warning or signal simultaneously launched themselves at each other in an explosive fury.

  Both Mech Armor flanked to the right, firing rockets and main cannons at one other from maximum range. The only input Aurora had on the duel was to control Starkindler’s defensive measures, otherwise humoring Mikkhael’s testosterone-fueled dick measuring contest. As the Strident’s rockets streaked forward impossibly fast, streaming towards Mikkhael, Aurora let loose defensive enfilade fire from dozens of small-bore guns positioned strategically throughout the armor. She directed them with perfect precision, striking the incoming rockets with steady streams of metal, setting them ablaze in midair that loosed deafening roars as their chemical charges ignited. Simultaneously, she deployed bursts of chaff, flares, and thick black smoke as Mikkhael changed direction to obscure himself behind the cover she provided.

  For his part, Daegot recognized that he was overmatched, having been in enough fights to know when the time to stand his ground was and when was the time to change tactics. He moved into cover behind a small hill, continuing to fire his rockets and cannons, attempting to buy time to gain a better position. Mikkhael’s heavy laser struck a glancing blow on the Strident’s shoulder, doing little damage from the extreme distance. He had been attempting a head shot kill, but the Strident’s speed surprised him. The massive slug from his other cannon struck the rock formation the other pilot ducked behind, the smoke and bits of pulverized rock the explosion threw up served to conceal the general area in a haze that both Mech Armors sensors had difficulty penetrating. He landed hundreds of hits on target with the sub cannons, but the small caliber high-explosive rounds did little or no damage against the Strident’s thick armor from their extreme range.

  “Aurora, afterburners at full!” He yelled as he leaned into an aggressive attack position, accelerating rapidly while staying low to the ground. Kinetic forces pushed him back into his seat, forcing Aurora’s intervention in order to help him keep their flight stable. Starkindler soared just above ground level with arms extended out in front, weapons pointed at where the other pilot hid, ready for the Strident to make a move.

  Aurora kept up a running commentary on his shield status as the Strident moved out from cover just enough to fire accurately. Electricity cracked explosively as his energy shields shrugged off the attacks, all while Aurora continued a narrative alternating between the optimal distance remaining for a kill shot and the amount of danger he was in from counter fire. Mikkhael chanced a glimpse over to the clock positioned in the corner of the HUD ticking down four seconds that seemed to last for an eternity as Aurora sounded an alarm inside the cockpit, alerting him that it was now his turn to take back control of the fight.

  Daegot expertly predicted what Mikkhael would do; the Strident’s main cannon as well as its last four remaining rockets fired directly into Starkindler’s fast-approaching path in a head on collision. Time slowed to a near standstill for Mikkhael, his body pumped full of the drug cocktail, mental process accelerated, absorbing every detail. Through the effects of the drugs, his perception of his surroundings was incredible. He could make out the rockets positioned on the sides of the cannon shell headed straight for them and instantly discerned what needed done.

  Deep in the perfect center of calm that flows around warriors fighting with the vibrancy of their life at stake, Mikkhael saw step-by-step what was necessary. He began an intricate series of moves, his body moving instinctively as his mind watched. His right index finger gently caressed the plasma cannon’s trigger, the super-heated ball of raw energy taking out one of the rockets; followed
by his left wrist dropping slightly, lowering the azimuth for the left cannon before firing. The high-explosive shell headed for the Strident’s feet, exploding on impact, showering the other pilot with debris as part of the rocky hill it sheltered behind shredded, temporarily blinding the pilot.

  The recoil from the cannons provided Starkindler with a small amount of lift; Mikkhael shifted his feet on the pedals, maneuvering the flaps to increase his height, the enemy’s cannon shell which had been fired blind passed just barely underneath the left wing. Aurora knocked down two of the three remaining rockets above the cannon shell with her point defensive guns.

  The last rocket was the largest in the PDF’s arsenal, a Mech killer, managing to pierce through the defensive fire intact, punching straight through their energy shields and into the chest armor. Mikkhael’s body flattened against the cockpit chair, held in place by his harness, exhaling as the breath in his lungs was forcefully pushed out of him, his lungs temporarily refusing to re-inflate, momentarily narrowing the fight down to his right to even breathe. Warnings flashed as the frontal shields collapsed, a timer appeared on the HUD stating that twenty-three seconds must elapse before the energy shields could re-engage. But thankfully the rocket was understrength, not intended for use against the heaviest armored Mech armor ever fielded. Kinetic and chemical forces radiated across the exterior of the torso, dissipating as the foam coating burned away after absorbing its capacity. Aurora used the kinetic force of the rockets blast to redirect Starkindler up into the air directly over the hill the Strident pilot was hiding behind.

  Mikkhael dipped both of his wrists and feet as time seemed to freeze in those next few milliseconds. Unblinking, hyper-focused on the Strident hiding with only the arms exposed, cockpit angled up, he flew directly overhead, imagining the enemy pilot looking up at him in surprise, unable to re-acquire a lock in time to make a difference due to Starkindler’s speed and proximity.

  Daegot had been expecting Mikkhael to pass on the far side of the hill once he fired that last salvo. The first series of shots forced him to pick the side to Daegot’s left, or suffer much more significant damage as the distance between them rapidly closed. He then planned to sweep both of the Strident’s arms to the side, punishing the massive enemy Mech armor with successive volleys of fire from his cover, turning the fight in his favor.

  He never imagined that the terrorist pilot would allow a rocket to strike against its armor intentionally and then use the kinetic energy to lift the behemoth directly over the hill. The lack of foresight on his part, or the redefinition of what was possible left him exposed to a return series of shots from the winged armor that he had absolutely no way to defend against.

  Aurora retracted Starkindler’s left wing while firing the RATO attached to the right foot, simultaneously cutting thrust from the left engine and engaging the right afterburner. Mikkhael worked the flight controls with the precision of a fighter pilot during high-speed combat maneuvers. Even in the simulators, the pair had never attempted so radical a maneuver. However, the consideration of failure never occurred to him, his self-confidence served as a critical component in their defiance of institutional logic.

  Working together, they twisted the giant Mech armor in mid-air so that the feet whipped around in a 180-degree arc even as the head remained in the same location. Aurora killed the RATO and the afterburners, using their built up momentum to finish twisting them around, keeping the machine face-to-face with the Strident nearly the entire time they were airborne. As they spun around in mid-air, the already reloaded main cannons passed directly over the Strident. Mikkhael fired both of them without hesitation in combination with a cluster of four-inch rockets while also pouring out sustained sub cannon fire to whittle down the Strident’s shields before the rockets struck. Starkindler landed heavily, feet digging deeply into the soft soil as they fought for purchase.

  Under the weight of the onslaught, the Strident’s energy shields collapsed explosively, electricity raking across its torso. Gouts of pierced armor fountained forth as hundreds of sub-cannon rounds ripped into the Strident in one continuous metal burst, critically weakening the layered plates of armor as shrapnel struck against Starkindler’s own energy shields, so close was the proximity of the two machines. Then the cannon shells landed. A tungsten slug slammed into the Strident’s weakened chest armor, opening a cavity that Aurora had timed the plasma shot to strike a half second behind. The frame of the torso collapsed under the ferocity of the onslaught, entombing Daegot inside until the critically overloaded reactor erupted.

  With the fight concluded, Aurora asserted control of piloting, retracting the second wing while disengaging and then remote detonating the consumed RATO external afterburner. Mikkhael was forced deep into the pilot’s seat as the kinetic suppressing gel conformed around his body doing everything possible to protect him; even as the G-forces from the foolish maneuver knocked him unconscious. With a violent groan, the huge machine shuddered under the impact of the myriad forces in play against it. Just before the world went black, Mikkhael saw the Strident erupt in a column of fire brighter than the sun.

  * * * * *

  Daegot was perfectly positioned within a small knoll on the back of the hill he was hiding behind. All those years of being an enforcer in the gang back in the slums of Rio had come in handy time and again, teaching him to have low expectations for his fellow humans. He’d matched against superior fighters before; relying on his wits, experience, and unrestrained ruthlessness to see him through, factors he expected to be able to count on this time around as well.

  He waited patiently behind the hill he used for cover, knowing that despite the skill of the terrorist pilot and his more powerful Mech armor that he only needed to wait for the one critical moment of vulnerability to turn the fight around in his favor. So he waited for the moment when the terrorist went flying past, leaving his right flank temporarily exposed and then he would strike. For his part, Daegot relished the sight as his victims saw him coming just before his knife entered their backs, savoring that moment of sheer panic at their inability to do anything except die. He savored the pathetic sounds his victims made as they died, and he despised them for their weakness as they faded away, their life snuffed out so easily. He never looked back after finishing any job High Command assigned him; no one had ever been worth the effort.

  His Strident’s sensors operated at their full capacity, still unable to do anything, cannon timers counting down until when they would be reloaded while time dragged by infinitely slow. He was not trying to hide; he knew full well that to hide or attempt to run against this particular enemy would be futile. He did not need to be told the difference in their capabilities; he was able to recognize the differences between them in the way that animals recognized the authority of a pack leader the same as any feral animal.

  Suddenly, time froze as a debris cloud formed at his feet, the concussion of the incoming shell’s explosion rippling across the exterior of his Mech as the terrorists cannon fire rendered all sensors temporarily useless, weapon radars droning mindlessly as they sought to re-acquire their target. Daegot instinctively tensed, just as the sensors picked up the signal of the terrorist approaching; his breath catching in his throat as he double-checked its incredible speed. In that instance, he knew his first real moment of fear in a long time, not of starving or being able to do what needed to be done, but of dying. The cold and unfamiliar premonition striking him suddenly with terrifying intensity. Too slowly, he fought to adjust the Strident’s arms to compensate for his enemies preternatural speed, firing the last salvo of rockets and a shell from the main cannon as the terrorist approached at a seemingly suicidal speed but still he could not believe what he saw. The sensors splayed their data across his HUD, showing his rocket strike against the terrorist’s Mech armor and then heave the huge war machine into the air as the enemy energy shields redirected the fierce waves of chemical violence downwards, bolts of lightning discharging angrily in every direction during the pro
cess.

  Understanding of the situation failed him for the first time in his life. Daegot’s fear turned into panic as he realized too late what his display had been trying to tell him. Instinctively, he looked up. Even though he could not physically see the giant winged Mech armor, he imagined the shadow that was even now passing over him as the enemy pilot impossibly passed overhead. He had just enough time to recognize that he was going to lose his first fight since he had been old enough to walk; he had finally fought a worthy enough opponent that not only outfought him, but outsmarted him as well, an opponent that had finally earned his respect.

  Then, as his Strident was rocking back, buffeted by explosion after explosion, his HUD washing white under the onslaught as his eyes failed to translate the vast array of colors, one last thought found its way into his mind before everything ended. He was not sure why; but, the last thing he ever saw was the face of his mother.

  Daegot died with a smile on his face.

  Chapter 9 – Reaper

  “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather requires fear. It provides the opportunity for courage.”

  -Michael Hyatt

  Aurora forced Starkindler to redeploy the wings, feeling them struggle against the inertia and gravitational forces pushing fiercely down on them, causing the gears inching the wings into place to groan in protest as she activated a RATO to add positive momentum to the barely in control Mech armor. By engaging additional thrust while moving in a straight line she was able to gain a small measure of lift, thereby reasserting some control. Failure would have seen them careening end over end across the wasteland, killing Mikkhael while forcing the self-destructing sequence to activate to keep the advanced technologies of the war machine out of PDF hands. Instead, Aurora veered all of their momentum into a screaming climb, quickly bleeding the excess speed off before settling into level flight. Once she regained control, she immediately began searching for their next target while her charge remained unconscious from lack of blood flow to his brain due to the high g’s.