Bishop realized Reiko was trying to distract her but also prevent her from moving on to other targets. At the same time, as the echo was flying rapidly away from them and bouncing communications, if Niijima was tracing the signal, she’d chase the fake and not them. They moved toward a series of skyscrapers that were still under construction.
Much of their mecha’s forearm was covered with the Legion. The insects were getting noticeably faster.
“How’s it going down there?” Reiko asked Nori.
“I need a few more minutes,” Nori replied.
“So do those bugs.”
The Syren somehow found them. “You think this is a child’s game, using an echo on me?” Niijima asked.
She attacked with her scimitar. Reiko, who couldn’t use her arm, barely dodged the strike by using the mecha’s skates and firing boosters in reverse to push them backward. The Syren pursued, about to swing at them. Reiko got in a perfectly timed kick to the Syren’s torso, causing her to stumble. The Kamakiri immediately fired shots from her stomach cannons, but it wasn’t at the Syren. Instead, they were bombs that created big smoky pillars in order to obfuscate the view. Reiko used her skates to create more distance between the two mechas.
“How much longer?” Reiko inquired.
“Just give me another minute,” Nori answered. “Are we in a safe position in case the mecha loses power?”
“We will be.”
Cars underneath were getting destroyed, but Reiko ignored the destruction of civilian property and found a series of apartments that were shaped like a pentagon with only one way in. These too were under construction, and there were no people inside. Reiko crouched in the central courtyard, hoping to stay out of sight. More importantly, Bishop realized that the Syren had only one direction in which it could approach them, so there wouldn’t be any sneak attacks from the rear.
“I think I got the pulse ready and focused in the direction of the Legion on our arm,” Nori said. “But if there’s instability and it goes outside of its range—”
“We’ll manage somehow. Just pull the string!” Reiko shouted.
The entire mecha shut down and the three-sixty view in the bridge vanished. They were enveloped in total darkness. Bishop wondered how long the shutdown would last and whether the pulse would work. Would the Syren find them before then?
Auxiliary power returned first, dousing them in a saturated red light. It was as though the world were painted red. Bishop remembered hearing that people used to dream in black and white before they added color to portical shows, causing their monochromatic reveries to go fully colored. He wondered how a world predominantly red would change their perspective on things as simple as dreams and bloodshed.
Bishop heard the hum of the BPG a few seconds before energy began streaming through the mecha again. The visual panels began to brighten and the view screen followed. There was no Syren in sight.
The arm was moving again, which relieved Reiko. All of the Legion robots were dropping dead like gnats, falling from the mecha’s fist. Reiko was eager to get back to the fight. But when she tried to walk, she found the Kamakiri’s legs were immobile.
“Um. My legs aren’t moving,” Reiko informed Nori.
“One of the circuits to the leg kinematics lost its wiring,” Nori replied. “I’m on them, but it’ll only be a short-term measure.”
“I live minute to minute.”
“If we need to replace the kinematic system, it could be a while,” Nori told Reiko, “which I know we don’t have.”
“At least you got the gnats off. I can fight Syren with just my hands if we need to.”
It was fortunate Reiko had cover behind the pentagonal apartment structure.
“Any people inside?” Reiko asked.
“Nothing on thermal sensors,” Bishop replied.
Reiko fired the rear grapplers on the Kamakiri at the buildings as a way of stabilizing the mecha and using the structure as support.
“Slick,” Bishop commented.
“Thanks. I saw someone use this method in a mecha tournament a while back.”
Bishop could see from his portical reading that the construction of the condominiums was supposed to finish in three months. Half the units had already been sold at an absurdly high rate. These were homes for the elite, spacious and luxurious, the kind he’d dreamed of one day owning for the family he never had.
A loud rumbling noise came from their flank. The apartment began crumbling. The Syren wasn’t going to approach them from the obvious opening. It was breaking apart the building and attacking them from the right. Although the Kamakiri’s legs weren’t working, Reiko used its arms to lift itself up to its feet, then rotate to face the impending strike.
“When can I get my legs back?” Reiko asked Nori via communicator.
“They won’t need a rehaul, but I have to swap out the articulation modules on the hips. I just need a few more minutes.”
“In a few minutes, the only thing left will be the legs.”
Even without energy, the legs were able to bend and the autostabilizers built within were keeping them steady. But time felt too tight, and Bishop wished there was something he could do.
Maybe there was.
“You have a rocket pack in here?” he asked.
Reiko looked back at him. “I don’t know.”
“Major Onishi. Are there rocket packs aboard?” he asked over the communicator.
“We have emergency packs. Why?” she asked.
“Thinking of using one. Maybe I can distract them.”
“It’s in the aft exit in the eighteenth vertebra.”
“Thank you,” Bishop said, and looked to Reiko. “Mind if I try something?”
“Just don’t die on me.”
“Wish that were up to me.”
Bishop climbed down the ladder to the hallway in the upper chest. While mechas outwardly looked very different, the inner workings were usually based on a template they tried to keep similar so that crews could easily be exchanged. Bishop walked to the aft toward the spinal nodules, where lights triggered by sensors showed the way. He climbed down the pole to the rear bay, which housed four escape pods and eight rocket packs. Each had carbon-fiber wings and Bradlium burning engines. He got into a heat-resistant suit and helmet to shield him from the exhaust and grabbed the rocket. Bishop could see they’d performed upgrades to make them more user-friendly and heat-resistant. He checked the parachute several times to make sure it was in working condition. The rifle was a Hazard SG-01, which packed a nice punch without being too heavy, making it the weapon of choice for flight. The standard-issue Suzuki boots had magnetizing capabilities as well as wheels.
He opened the escape hatch in the spine. Across from him was the condominium, floors built, but no walls to seal them off. He made sure everything was in working order. Bishop jumped out and onto the scaffolding, which connected to the floor with its steel frame. It was all mild steel, which construction Taro bots were reinforcing with boards and spray coatings of fire protection. Two approached him and asked, “Human, do you need anything?”
Bishop had a momentary flashback to the first time his father had taken him to a military base under construction in Saigon. There too had been Taro bots with their automata AI and their super-personable behavior. His father was going to have the biggest office in the building and was telling Bishop about their upcoming operations in Vietnam. Even though Bishop was very young, he’d been so proud.
Bishop ignored the bots and ran to the opposite side of the building, readying his rocket pack. The whole process became instinctual, and without him even being aware of how he did it, he was in the air. Muscle memory was still as active as ever as he prepared to harry the Syren.
“You hear me?” Reiko said to him over a communicator he could hear in his helmet.
“I do. Got any suggestions on how I mi
ght slow the Syren down?”
“Anything you do will most likely get you shot.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you out there?”
Bishop thought again about his torture at the hands of the Nazis. “Mosquito tactics,” he answered.
While he’d ridden the rocket pack when he was escaping from Metzger’s inferno, that had been more of a mad dash to save his life. Now, flying up here again, it felt like the old days but better, since his back was better protected against the heat with a shield that extended the nozzles past the tail of the pack. Also, the controls seemed much tighter, with the rotating grips for the yaw and the general throttle responding better than the junk packs he’d ridden in Texarkana. The Bradlium gave him sixty minutes of flight. He was much higher in the air than the mecha and could see more of the devastation Bloody Mary had caused. He forced himself to focus on the Syren and not worry about his niece. He doubted there were any weak points that would cause significant damage to a mecha. His main hope was to annoy and delay it. As he flew, he saw the armadillo plates on the back of the Syren, making it almost invincible against rear attacks. It was smashing away at the building and would be on Reiko soon.
Bishop took a deep breath. This could be the end of him. But he had to try something to distract Niijima. Most mechas had cameras that were nearly impervious to explosives. But they could be visually impaired. Fortunately, his pack had a full armament, including an oil hose meant to annoy opponents. If he could get in close to the Syren’s faceplate and spray oil at it, then it’d be forced to change to its sensors. That could annoy the Syren enough to focus its attention on him and buy the Kamakiri the few minutes it’d need to recover its legs. The key to survival, for both him and mosquitoes, was aggressiveness. Don’t hesitate, don’t dawdle. Aim for the target and take the plunge. His hope was that with all the Taro bots around, he would barely register on their sensors. He flew toward the Syren and flipped the nozzles to hovering mode. He wouldn’t be able to get directly in front of the Syren, but if he could lower the hose and shoot, he hoped it would murk up their camera. He spotted the visual sensors on the faceplate and flew above the Syren, waited for it to swipe down at the building so its arms were below. Slowly, he descended to the front of the mecha and fired the hose. The oil sprayed out, but completely missed. He tried using his rifle instead, but the sensors were resistant to gunfire. At the same time, he’d gotten the Syren’s attention. It turned its helmet guns at him. A second before it fired, he flew straight up into the air, accelerating as fast as he could. A torrent of bullets destroyed a string of construction bots instead of him.
So much for that plan.
“Reiko,” Bishop called with another idea. “Can you link my portical with the Syren on a private channel?”
“Right now?” she asked.
“If possible.”
“Hold on a second,” she said, muttering, “I need two more arms.” A few seconds later, “I don’t know if she’ll reply, but I’ve connected you.”
“Captain Niijima of the Syren,” he called. “This is Bishop Wakana. I once served with you during the Texarkana Campaigns.” There was no answer. “I was one of the rocket pack soldiers you abandoned to die. Everyone in my squadron was killed except for me. I was taken captive by the Nazis. We looked everywhere for you. We—”
“What can I do for you, Bishop Wakana?” Captain Niijima asked via portical, her mecha ceasing its blind attack.
He was taken aback that she’d replied. “I—I wanted to talk.”
“I figured that. The brazenness of your actions has piqued my curiosity. But surely you didn’t try shooting my sensors just so we could chat about the past.”
“I want to know why you abandoned us.”
“I don’t recall abandoning you. Are you certain you haven’t mistaken me for someone else?” she challenged him.
He felt anger well up inside him. Was she trying to deny responsibility? “I’m certain of it. Your one duty was to protect us. Our duty was to protect Bloody Mary. You forget where you met your new leader, Bloody Mary? She was part of the mission at Texarkana!”
“You’re one of the Djangos,” she stated.
She remembered. “I was,” Bishop affirmed.
“I do recall that mission. I also remember that I was not allowed to inform you of the true nature of our mission.”
“What do you mean, ‘true nature’?” Bishop asked.
“You’ve never thought to ask that yourself?”
“We were told it was to protect Bloody Mary.”
“From what? She didn’t need your help,” Niijima answered.
Bishop maneuvered above the Syren, careful not to get too close. “Then why were we sent?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You were meant to be sacrificed.”
“Explain what you mean.”
“I was ordered to drop you off and leave the battlefield. The plan was for as many of you as possible to be taken prisoner.”
Bishop almost lost control of his rocket pack, but steadied himself. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It was part of some secret op. I asked my commanding officer, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t think he even knew.”
“That’s impossible. They—they told us it was a vital mission. Bloody Mary had to infiltrate the other side.”
“Which she would have done with or without your help. If I’m correct, she had a mobile suit on her. Why would she need your assistance?”
Bishop could not believe it. All the official commendations, the words of praise from his superiors, and it had never even been intended for him to make it out alive. Was she lying? Was she trying to get under his skin? All those years of suffering had been . . . been for what?
“I understand your emotions right now,” Niijima said. “I experienced it myself when I found out certain truths about our country.”
“What truths?”
“I was no fan of Governor Tamura. But after he was killed, Governor Yamaoka sent my family to Shayol. My father’s only crime was that he tried to protect some of the political and military leaders that had been targeted by the Sons of War,” Niijima said.
Bishop had heard of Shayol, the Nazi hell the governor had seized and then refit as his own punishment for those who opposed him. It was a genetically manipulated biosphere which induced rapidly mutating cancer via radiation guns. The group of biomolecular scientists known as the “cattle guard” ran Shayol like it was a playground for their medical experimentation.
“When my husband objected to my family’s imprisonment, his superiors warned him to back off. He refused, and got sent to Shayol too. They would have sent me as well, but they ‘needed’ my mecha piloting skills so I could help them hunt down more political criminals. I spent my whole life training to be a mecha pilot so I could defend our country, not be an executioner for a power-hungry cabal.”
“Executing enemies is our job,” Bishop retorted.
“You would call groups of terrified politicians scared they said the wrong thing ‘enemies’? It’s not the job I signed up for. Soldiers kill their enemies in combat. Executioners murder weaponless targets at the orders of their government. Ignorance can only be bliss if you block your ears to all the terrors happening right outside. I can’t. I will spare you for now because I understand you’re driven by a state of ignorance. Even the glint of a pearl can make a pig shine. But if you try anything again, I’ll blast you out of the skies.”
The Syren went back to destroying what was left of the building.
Bishop knew he should do more to distract the Syren, take aim and blow up his rocket pack in a collision that would be massive if he could trigger the Bradlium. But he was too stunned to make sense of what he should or shouldn’t do. The governor’s true killer was the least of his concerns. Was Niijima speaking the truth about Texarkana?
Had his superiors really intended for him to be captured?
“Did you hear what Niijima said?” Bishop asked Reiko.
“I did.”
“Do you know if there’s any truth to what she’s talking about?”
“I don’t. But I can help you find out more if we survive. For now, stay clear of the fight.”
“Not like I have a choice,” he said.
“If I need anything, can I still count on you?” Reiko asked.
“Depends on what you need.”
“I might need some catering. Last rites and all.”
“What would your last meal request be?” Bishop asked.
“Pork and chive dumplings, Sichuan spicy fish, and kimchi fried rice with SPAM. You?”
“Right now, fried armadillo,” Bishop replied, which made Reiko laugh. “I’ve never eaten a mecha before, but we could toast it on my rocket pack.”
Bishop flew to the east wing of the building to watch the battle. Reiko didn’t shut her channel and he could hear intra-communications within the bridge.
“Good news,” he heard Nori say. “Legs are functioning.”
“Just in time,” Reiko said.
The Syren broke through the building and rushed toward the Kamakiri, swinging its scimitar. Reiko was able to lift the Kamakiri’s arm to block with her sword. The Syren raised its arms again, preparing to fire the Legion shell. Reiko readied her blade and aimed carefully. The Syren fired one of her Legion shells. Reiko anticipated the attack and hit the kote tegai as it triggered, causing the trajectory to shift upward. The shell flew into the building, and the Legion began devouring the steel frame. Taro bots confusedly confronted the Legion.
Reiko threw another knife quickly. It pierced the Syren’s forearm, but missed the Legion cannon. “Dammit dammit dammit,” Reiko muttered before firing at the knife with her Suigetsu GRL-40, making contact. The knife exploded, rupturing the Syren’s arm. “Got ya!” she yelled, though the arm still appeared to be functioning, as she was able to swing it back.
Reiko rushed the Syren, swinging hard as she said, “Let’s dance.”
Their swords locked. The Kamakiri punched the Syren in the side of its chest, causing it to tumble back. The Kamakiri tried to thrust its sword into the Syren’s neck, but the Syren deflected the blade with its own, hurtling a fist back with its other arm. The Kamakiri took the blow in its cheek and stumbled into the building.
Cyber Shogun Revolution Page 24
