Cyber Shogun Revolution

by Peter Tieryas

  There was armor plating on its back, sturdy, rectangular, and nearly impervious to all known weapons, which was appropriate considering it was an Armadillo class. Only four of these had been built, since the construction of its back was so expensive. Once it rolled into a defensive position, it could withstand most bombardments short of atomics. The arms had special armored sleeves that gave them a menacing bulk.

  “That arm,” Reiko said, looking carefully. “Can you do a closer scan?”

  “What am I looking for?” Nori asked.

  “That mechanism on her arm looks like a prototype weapon that was in development a few years back.”

  “I’m not detecting any unusual energy readings.”

  “Just keep an eye on it.”

  Bishop knew that Niijima had used the Syren in sixteen different battles and had emerged victorious each time. There were gauntlet knives in both hands that were charged by electric fields. Niijima’s mecha wielded a scimitar, and its curved blade gleamed crimson from the blipping lights on its giant arm.

  Bishop’s memory of Niijima was very different from the official record. He’d been one of twenty-five Djangos, rocket pack soldiers in the 29th Squadron, named after their commanding officer. Rocket pack failure rates were high, and despite all the psychological and adaptive emotional therapy they’d received prebattle, most of them still felt nervous. No one wanted the new emotion plugs either—even though they purportedly regulated hormonal levels and promised to keep all soldiers cool, eleven of the soldiers who got them ended up going into a vegetative state a day after their installation.

  Bishop remembered the mission at Texarkana Fortress when he was captured. It was an abnormally hot day, and he had to drink multiple bottles of water to keep hydrated. The suits they wore to protect themselves from the rocket fuel worsened the intense heat. Then again, everything at Texarkana felt like it was on fire. The Djangos carried out careful inspections of each other’s suits. If anything got loose or was misplaced and dangling in the wrong place, they could burn to death from their own rocket packs. His nose was still sore from the new booster shot they’d been given deep up their nostrils. It was supposed to protect them against the biological weapons the Nazis were using.

  Captain Niijima informed them over the speakers, “We’re almost at the drop-off zone. Heavy enemy fire detected, though no biomechs in the area for now.”

  Sergeant Django explained that their task was to pick off soldiers planting mines and damaging terrain that would affect the mecha’s traversal. The Nazis had set all sorts of traps in the hopes of hampering mecha mobility. But this cover story was just in case they were being listened to. Their real objective was to protect the woman sitting by herself in the corner. She was wearing a mobile armor suit. Bishop had never seen one so advanced. Neither had the other members. It was like she was wearing a miniaturized mecha with an arsenal that could take down a tank battalion. The mobile armor had the latest chameleon refractory system installed, which had tech similar to z-cloaks and allowed her to blend in with its environment. It was currently off, so it was like staring at a samurai suit made of mirrors.

  She was going to eject at the same time they were. Their mission was to defend her until she could infiltrate the opposing side.

  When someone asked, “What’s her mission?” the response they got from the sergeant was, “You want to volunteer for it? ’Cause she got it a hundred times worse than your sorry asses.”

  Anyone else who got curious was told to shut up. None of them knew who she was, what her objective was, or even where she was going. Everyone knew her nickname, though. “Bloody Mary.”

  “She’s the best goddamn Nazi killer we got,” their sergeant informed them.

  She didn’t speak to them. Even when they asked her questions, she didn’t reply.

  There were all sorts of impossible rumors about her. Someone said she fought eight hundred eighty-eight Nazi soldiers by herself and killed each of them, sharpening her blade on their necks to make sure it was kept fresh with human blood. Someone even heard a rumor she fought a biomech and single-handedly took it down. That was too ludicrous for even the most reverent to swallow.

  The moment they got to their deployment zone, they were locked into a launcher which essentially ejected them from a mechanical sling. Bishop looked down and saw artillery units firing at them. The Syren stomped most of them, taking out the rest with laser beams from its chest plate.

  Bloody Mary ejected to the ground at the same time they were thrust into the air. Her mobile suit had wheels which made her as fast as any of them. She was racing toward the front like a robotic skater zipping through the battlefield. She triggered the chameleon tech and vanished. Bishop did his best to protect her from any opposing infantry. A few Nazi motorcycles headed her way, driven by human pilots who were genetically fused with the vehicular parts. That was meant to give them full synchronicity with their bikes, but it also subjected them to pain if the motorcycle itself got damaged. Bishop picked them off using his “smart” bullets, which, after being targeted, automatically compensated for environmental conditions and made sure not to miss. He did not know if Bloody Mary noticed his aid, and she gave no acknowledgment if she did. It wasn’t just him assisting her. The twenty-four other Djangos were doing their best to ensure that her path was clear, even if they had no idea where she was going.

  Rocket packs all stank of diffused Bradlium, but the stench of a biomech was unmistakable, originating from the cellular decay and the cancerous shells that gave them their rotten odor. Unlike the bipedal biomechs they’d encountered before, a new one marched toward them. This biomech had eight legs and looked like a spider with a human body extruding from its top, spliced together in genetic chicanery. Its limbs were covered by structures that looked like black bok-choy leaves and masses of cabbages sprouting from its tumorous skin. It didn’t have a human face but a monstrous one, with fangs and bulbous protrusions that resembled spider eyes. The biomech’s tongue was lashing out at rocket pack soldiers, slapping them out of the air. It was brutally efficient and its size dwarfed their own mecha. The thrashing noise from its regenerative skin made Bishop feel queasy. At least with the previous biomechs he’d confronted, they had an idea of its attack patterns. This one was very different. It used its legs to crush soldiers and vehicles on the ground. Bishop had no idea about its range, its weapons, or its capabilities. He learned quickly, as it pounced on his fellow soldiers. The Djangos fired at the biomech, sniping at it to try to debilitate it. The biomech released a swarm of gnats in response.

  Through the communicators, he heard a dozen of his compatriots being perforated by the gnats who flew inside their throats and blew hundreds of holes from within. Their lifeless bodies dropped from the sky like rag dolls. One of the rocket pack soldiers used her parachute to try to escape, but the insectoid drones ripped holes inside her chute, causing her to drop like a stone.

  Bishop and the other members of the rocket pack corp searched for Niijima’s mecha, hailed it several times, and hoped it would back them up. But when Bishop tried to track the Syren down, he couldn’t find it.

  “Syren, we’re under attack. This is a new type of biomech,” Bishop called. “Syren? Syren?” But there was no reply, and a visual search revealed that the Syren was heading away from their direction.

  This meant they had no mecha support. Why had the Syren abandoned them? If it had been ordered away, standard protocol was that they should have at least been notified.

  Bishop searched for Bloody Mary. He couldn’t see her, but he assumed she was ahead of them and had safely navigated past the spider biomech, which was now between them. Even if they wanted to aid her, they couldn’t.

  Could he escape back to the Syren? But there was no way he could out-fly the gnats. Bishop saw another one of his compatriots get destroyed and decided he was going to wreak as much damage as possible before dying. He turned toward
the biomech and readied his rocket pack to explode on impact. Suddenly he thought of Felicia. He hesitated just long enough for two gnats to spot him and fly his way. Bishop tried to avoid them, but they were too fast and destroyed his left rocket, causing him to spin as he began a downward trajectory. He tried to regain control, tried to access his portical to trigger the parachute. But the damage was too severe and as he continued his plummet, he prayed Bloody Mary succeeded in whatever mission it was that would cost him his life. He thought of Felicia again and wished he could talk to her one last time. He lost consciousness as soon as he hit the ground.

  When he woke up, he was in Nazi shackles.

  What made him most angry was that after he’d been rescued, he learned Niijima had left them to help another squadron deal with their own biomech. She was decorated for bravery in the battle, as she had taken down two biomechs by herself. But her duty had been to the Djangos. And they’d been left to die. He was the only survivor! Her primary responsibility was to have protected them. He tried to protest, filed a complaint, but the brass told him to keep his mouth shut. Niijima was a war hero. He, while brave, had just been a prisoner and a grunt at that. He was in no place to complain.

  Bishop felt wronged and had little admiration for Niijima.

  The Endersby had an enormous artillery gun and was firing rapidly. But Niijima’s mecha was impervious to the shells, moving forward through the bullet storm before it sliced off the Endersby’s arm. Niijima used her gauntlet knife to puncture the Endersby’s shoulder, then cut downward, fracturing its body. A liquid began pouring out.

  “Is that fuel?” Reiko asked.

  Bishop checked navigation and was surprised by the chemical analysis. “It’s beer.”

  “Beer?”

  Bishop saw from the security records on the Endersby that the pilot had been reprimanded four times for swapping out backup generators for barrels of beer. The pilot had defended himself, saying most of their work was guard duty in peacetime, so the crew got bored and needed to pass the time with a good brew. Although Bishop couldn’t check the alcohol levels in the crew, he wouldn’t have been surprised if most of them had been intoxicated when the attack had commenced. It embarrassed him that crews like this were defending Los Angeles, while on the other side, Niijima’s only reprimand had been for beating up Nazis.

  “She’s cutting all the circuits connecting the upper half of the body to the BPG,” Reiko said to Bishop. That meant no juice for the upper half. “He’s toast.”

  Niijima used her boot to stomp on the Endersby’s right knee. The entire leg buckled backward, and the mecha began to fall. But Niijima grabbed the Endersby, not allowing it to drop. Instead, she pummeled its face, crushing its facial features and showing no mercy.

  Reiko fired several warning shots her way.

  “Send them a hello from me,” Reiko said. “Tell ’em if they don’t stop, I’ll attack.”

  Bishop sent the message. “They’re responding,” he said.

  Lina Niijima showed up on the display, head and brow shaved, ethnically a mix of Thai and Czech according to the family history, and muscular like most pilots. Another image popped up of Major Samuel Saito of the Endersby. He was also Eurasian and hairless like all pilots, but in contrast to Niijima, had a potbelly and was sweating profusely.

  “What is the meaning of attacking us without pr-provocation!” Saito said, slurring his words.

  Niijima ignored him and said to the Kamakiri, “Reiko Morikawa. You survived.”

  “Whatever your cause, killing civilians is wrong,” Reiko said.

  Niijima smirked, amused by her response. “When Governor Yamaoka murders tens of thousands of civilians, he’s called a war hero and promoted. When we do it, we’re called terrorists. The double standard is the true madness. I didn’t even realize how entrenched I was until Bloody Mary broke us out of our chains.”

  Saito appeared to have a hard time focusing and keeping his balance. Several crew members were behind him, trying to keep him steady. Bishop made a mental note to make sure to have Saito removed from his position if they survived.

  “I won’t waste my time trying to convince a drunk,” Niijima stated on a public channel. “But to all the others on board, my fight isn’t with you. I’m fighting for all of you against this illegitimate government. Your old mechas stand no chance against the Syren. Force your pilots to stand down and we can avoid unnecessary conflict.”

  “You might have the best motivation in the world,” Reiko replied. “But killing so many people to make a point . . . I’ll never be a part of it.”

  “But you were willing to be a part of Yamaoka’s revolution? He killed even more people,” Niijima said.

  “For a noble cause.”

  “Fighting for your freedom isn’t noble?”

  “You call this freedom?” Reiko demanded, pointing to the devastation around them.

  “Freedom isn’t cheap. But if you insist on your ways, you can die aboard that heap of junk.”

  “The Kamakiri isn’t junk,” Reiko said, immediately defending her mecha, offended.

  “What do you want me to do?” the Endersby’s pilot asked Reiko.

  “Stay out of the way unless you want your other arm chopped off.”

  The communication ended and the Endersby withdrew. Reiko looked at Bishop and Nori. “If either of you has second thoughts, it’s cool. Just let me know now before I kick the Syren’s ass.”

  “We’re in this together,” Nori replied.

  “No second thoughts from me. She betrayed my entire corps,” Bishop said.

  “You served with Niijima before?” Nori asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. She doesn’t give a damn about anyone other than herself.”

  The Syren attacked their accompanying Anubis first and, within ten seconds, spliced it up into a hundred parts. The Niwatori crumbled to the ground. Bishop messaged the pilot, but there was no response.

  “Any life signals?” Reiko asked Bishop about the Niwatori.

  “Hard to tell right now,” he replied.

  The Syren turned toward the Kamakiri and attacked with its scimitar. Reiko took out her fusion sword and swung it quickly at Niijima. The Syren parried with its scimitar, but the blade was quick and slashed a segment in its palm. Whenever the Syren tried to get close, Reiko forced it back with her sword, meticulously cutting apart its circuitry. But just as Reiko began to step in, the Syren raised its forearm and a cannon popped out. She began firing at a rapid pace. At this close proximity, the shells had a deadly impact, blowing off two of the Kamakiri’s fingers and causing the sword to drop. Reiko picked her blade back up, but then her mecha’s arms stopped functioning.

  Bishop looked over at the arms, which were still in a fighting pose, just frozen there. He noticed the hands appeared to be covered by some type of insect swarm.

  “Why aren’t my arms working?” Reiko demanded as she moved the Kamakiri away from the Syren.

  Nori got up and moved toward Bishop’s panel. “Those insects. They’re some kind of parasite.”

  “Put it on my screen.”

  Nori relayed the command.

  Reiko zoomed in on the metallic parasites and said, “Dammit, I was right. This is the Legion.”

  “Legion? I thought they couldn’t get it to work,” Nori questioned.

  “Wait, what’s Legion?” Bishop wanted to know.

  “It was part of a secret project at Mechtown to fend off a mecha attack,” Reiko answered. “It’s made up of thousands of tiny microsized robots that’ll latch on to its target and digest its metallic parts. They can self-fabricate, so if you kill a bunch of them but there’s even one left, it’ll reproduce. Nori’s right, though. It was still in development when I was there, and they were having problems getting it to work under restraints because the AI was uncontrollable.”

  “How do you stop the
m?”

  Reiko didn’t know. Nori examined the scans again. “We might be able to create a really strong charged shot from the BPG if we direct the energy into a wave and disable the parasites,” Nori suggested.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Use the energy from the generator and aim it at the parasites to make them inoperative.”

  “Can you do it?” Reiko asked.

  “I’ll try,” Nori said. “But I have to go down to the engine room.”

  “But your leg—”

  “Will manage,” Nori said. “If I screw up, it could end up destroying the entire mecha.”

  “Is there a Plan B?” Bishop asked.

  “No,” Nori replied.

  Reiko asked, “How long do you need to set it up?”

  “Normally, twenty minutes,” Nori said. “But I know we don’t have that. Use an echo and burn as much time as you can,” Nori urged Reiko before climbing down the ladder despite her bad leg.

  The Kamakiri began running the other way and launched an “echo” drone, which would fly in a haphazard pattern and bounce any communications from the Kamakiri to the Syren. The net effect would be that if the Syren tried to find the source of Reiko’s messages, it would target the echo rather than the mecha itself.

  Scornful laughter rang over the communicator. “You have less honor than a dog,” Niijima taunted them.

  “Why do you have to make fun of dogs?” Reiko asked her.

  “I’m not disrespecting dogs. I’m talking about you,” Niijima replied.

  “I like dogs. I used to have a corgi, and there isn’t any shame being compared to a dog. I love them. Plus, they don’t take cheap shots like you just did.”

  “When the old Americans first arrived in the main island of Japan, they brought superior ships and weaponry and forced their will on the government,” Niijima said. “The Americans proudly proclaimed it ‘gunboat diplomacy.’”

  “So what?”

  “Was it unfair that the—”