Mech Wars: The Complete Series

by Scott Bartlett

  So did having to delay their departure from Allendale, because of an Ambler patrolling the path between there and Northshire.

  Luckily, this one was functioning properly, and it didn’t go on a rampage. Instead, it turned onto a connecting Gatherer path, following the same circuitous route it had followed since Darkstream had first mapped this planet and documented the predictable behavior of its high-tech inhabitants.

  Once the Ambler left the route between Northshire and Allendale, it was finally safe for Gabe and the others from the Northshire garrison to head back toward their original posting.

  Part of him was anxious to get back, to see Jess, and part of him was extremely hesitant—to face Jess’s father, Mayor Sweeney. Had she successfully hidden their encounter from him? And did Gabe really want her to?

  Over the years, there’d been no shortage of young women throwing themselves at him. Probably because of his fame as the first man to set foot on Eresos, and also his role in carving out a foothold for humanity on the planet, though no one fully knew what he’d had to do to accomplish that.

  Mostly, he’d rebuffed their advances, but sometimes not. He led a lonely life. Most professional soldiers did; there was no hiding that fact. And sometimes the urge roared louder than his willpower.

  But even the ones he’d lain with had amounted to nothing but a flash in the pan, and he doubted they’d been any more upset about his eventual departure than he was.

  Jess, on the other hand…Jess was different. He couldn’t quite say why, but no one had ever set his heart to racing like she did. She made bizarre thoughts parade through his head. Thoughts of trying to change, of quitting Darkstream, of settling down.

  He’d done some awful things, in this galaxy and the one he’d left behind. Could there be redemption for a man like him? Was there such a thing as cleaning a blood-covered slate?

  Suddenly, his implant HUD washed red. Considering they’d dialed them back from full-alert mode, the fact that this notification was getting through meant that it was serious, and also that it directly pertained to them.

  Sure enough: “QUATRO ATTACKING NORTHSHIRE. REPAIR TO POSTING IMMEDIATELY.”

  His heart tried to crawl up his throat and out of his mouth. “We only left Robinson and Sawyer there,” he choked out. “They’ll be completely overwhelmed.”

  The driver, Seaman Morrissey, cursed softly.

  “Don’t just sit there, you idiot!” Gabe yelled. “Step on it!”

  Morrissey did, and the personnel carrier lurched forward, doubling its speed. That still wasn’t very fast.

  Gabe felt like he could get out and run quicker than this. He knew that wasn’t true, but watching those weird trees crawl by, it sure felt like it!

  “Faster!” Gabe barked.

  “Sir, this vehicle was not designed to go any faster than this on an uneven dirt surface. To avoid tipping over, I strongly recommend—”

  “I don’t give a shit what you recommend, Morrissey. I’m ordering you to go faster!”

  The seaman accelerated, and the vehicle didn’t tip. Eresos’ strange forests sped by faster, and with Gabe’s constant urging, they began to blur.

  At last, Northshire drew into sight.

  By then, of course, it was far too late.

  The personnel carrier barreled past burning buildings on the village’s perimeter. Nearer the village green, the Darkstream self-erecting structures had fared better.

  Not so, the people of Northshire. Bodies were strewn everywhere—all over the green, between buildings, on doorsteps. Gabe saw Toby Horton draped over a fence surrounding a garden. His blue overalls were soaked red.

  The personnel carried ground to a halt, and Gabe threw open the door, not bothering to close it behind him. He ran through the village toward the mayor’s residence, SL-17 at the ready, legs pumping as hard as he could force them to. Blood surged through his veins like molten lava.

  A white shape caught his eye, and he came to an abrupt halt. The white of a summer dress. Stained with the scarlet smear of blood.

  He dropped to his knees roughly five meters from the body of Jess Sweeney. His assault rifle tumbled to the grass.

  He had no idea how long he remained there, staring at Jess’s corpse.

  The blast of a gunshot brought him back to his senses. It had come from inside the Sweeney residence.

  Gabe forced himself to move. Just inside the house, he found what remained of Mayor Sweeney, sitting in a plain, wooden chair. He’d lodged the barrel of a shotgun under his chin and pulled the trigger with his toe. His face was gone.

  Stumbling out of the house. Stumbling through the village, past pock-marked metal structures, past burning wooden ones.

  Unsure where he was going.

  He came to a halt again, hands on knees, and his breakfast of eggs with hot sauce came steaming up his throat and onto the neatly clipped grass. Then came the retching. And the tears.

  “Pioneer,” someone croaked.

  It was Seaman Sawyer. Horse. Lying sprawled near the bay doors where Gatherers entered and exited the collection facility. His torso mangled.

  Gabe went to him.

  “They had guns, Pioneer. Guns.”

  “What? How’d they hold them? How’d they pull the trigger?” Quatro had only paws, with no opposable thumbs.

  This makes absolutely zero sense. The aliens weren’t known to possess technology of any level. Just their sheer size, brute strength, and low cunning. And yet…

  “The guns were strapped—mounted, like—on their backs,” Sawyer said. “As for how they fired them…” Horse shook his head, which looked like it took more effort than it needed to.

  “I’m going to get you help, Horse. Don’t move.”

  Gabe pushed a hand through his short hair as he jogged away. None of this made any sense.

  But in the end, it didn’t matter. Guns or no guns, technology or none, it didn’t matter.

  He intended to make the Quatro pay.

  Chapter 11

  Pockets of Resistance

  The gang that had taken over Habitat 2 still hadn’t secured their hold over it. Pockets of resistance remained, with bullets being traded intermittently.

  The city’s artificial night was falling, which coincided with Alex’s actual night. That made Lisa’s and Tessa’s job easier, as they crept from doorway to dumpster to alley, waiting for the way to clear before moving ahead to stop again and wait.

  Residents were still getting dragged violently from their homes. Sometimes, that was the source of the gunfire.

  Lisa clamped a hand to her mouth as she watched a bandanna-clad Daybreak goon forcing a man to his knees in front of his home. Casually, the thug drew his pistol and put a bullet in the back of his victim’s head. He walked away, leaving the body to cool in the street.

  As Lisa and Tessa passed the dead man, Lisa glanced down and recognized him. He was Jordan Lee, a councilman. It seemed the gangsters were executing anyone important to Habitat 2’s civil power structure.

  “They’ll face big consequences for this,” she subvocalized to Tessa.

  “Maybe. Cooper’s the kind of man who’ll call any bluff, whether it’s actually a bluff or not. He’s willing to reach for anything he wants, and he leaves it to his adversaries to try and stop him. Normally, they don’t dare.”

  Lisa sent Andy an IM ahead of time, and when they reached him he was ready, opening his door to admit them and closing it just as quickly once they were inside.

  He wore a grim expression as he eyed their weapons briefly, then turned back to the bags he was in the process of stuffing full of clothes and other personal effects.

  “I see you have the same idea we do,” Tessa said, watching the vid feed that showed the street in front of the residence.

  “You got that right,” he said. “Somehow, I doubt I’d keep my position in the new order. I don’t think the gangsters will trust me to do supply runs for them.”

  Lisa scrutinized his expression. “Would
you work for them even if they did trust you?”

  Andy paused his packing to meet her gaze, frowning slightly. “Of course not, Lisa.” He continued packing.

  “It’s still possible Darkstream will negotiate with Daybreak for their employees back,” Tessa said, never taking her eyes off the street outside.

  “I’d say it’s likely,” Andy said.

  “Exactly,” Lisa put in. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “No,” he said with a chuckle. “Because if it gets out that they abandoned their employees to live as slaves, they’ll suddenly find the labor market much less accommodating to their needs. Even so, I’m not willing to take any chances. I’m leaving within the hour.”

  “Darkstream will come for their employees, Andy. They will. They’ll do right by us.”

  “Don’t be naive, Lisa.”

  “Screw you.”

  That brought another chuckle. “Spitey as always.”

  “Cut the squabbling, children,” Tessa said, her tone flat. “Andy, how likely are we to secure a beetle?”

  “How good are you with those pistols?”

  “Good enough.”

  “I hope so. Because I’m sure the beetle bays were the first thing Daybreak locked down.”

  Andy finished packing, then slung the enormous, overstuffed duffel bag over his shoulder.

  “The definition of stealth,” Lisa said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Somehow, they managed to make it to the western beetle bay without drawing unwanted attention. Maybe the gangsters figured no one would be brazen enough to attempt stealing a beetle.

  Tessa drew up beside Lisa. “Can you patch the bay’s vid feed through to my implant?”

  “Uh…yeah. Sure.” The idea of using her Darkstream security clearance to help a confessed criminal didn’t appeal to her very much, but Lisa couldn’t see an alternative.

  After a few seconds of studying the feed, Tessa nodded. “Okay. Open it up, Lisa, and stay out here with Andy.”

  “Are you serious? I can help!” She hefted the SL-17 she’d taken from the basement where Tessa had found her, to help make her point.

  Tessa locked eyes with her. “Stay here with Andy.”

  “Fine,” she said, her voice coming out more sullen than she’d wanted. But she wasn’t about to oppose Tessa when she gave her that look. In fact, she didn’t know of anyone who ever did. Not anyone who’d made it through the experience unharmed, anyway.

  Lisa opened the entrance to the beetle bay, which disappeared upward into its casing. Producing a flashbang, Tessa tossed it inside, then pressed her back to the wall near the entrance.

  Lisa took cover herself, looking away, but she still saw the bright flash of light, and the loud crack reached her ears, amplified by the hollow of the bay. When she looked again, Tessa was already inside, her pistols firing in tandem.

  Five gunshots later, the white-haired former Darkstream soldier emerged, nodding at Lisa and Andy. “Clear.”

  They both followed Tessa into the beetle bay, where four of the awkward-looking vehicles awaited them in a neat grid. There were also five bandanna-wearing thugs sprawled on the ground, each sporting a bullet hole in their skulls.

  “Wow,” Andy said. “Good work.”

  “Just do your job, beetle jockey. Take your pick of these wrecks.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I pick the wreck closest to the exit.”

  “Good choice.”

  Andy had sufficiently high security clearance to open the beetle’s rear hatch, which lowered to become an entrance ramp.

  They strode up it, and Lisa used her clearance to open the wide portal into the airlock.

  Chapter 12

  Accelerate Vengeance

  Gabe hoisted the thermobaric grenade launcher onto his shoulder and dropped to one knee, lining up the arc of his shot with care. He really didn’t want to mess this up. Not with Darkstream troops milling all around the area, making sure no Quatro escaped.

  “Careful, son,” Commander Bob Bronson said, behind him and somewhere to the left. “That’s a fuel-air explosive you’re about to deploy.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve fired them many times before, back in the Bastion Sector. I know the risks.”

  “Good. We want to set the air they’re breathing on fire, not ours,” Bronson said with a chuckle. “Are you ready?”

  I think so. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then fire.”

  Gabe did, angling the launcher upward, bracing for the kickback, and pulling the trigger. The grenade left the launcher’s tube with a whoosh. He watched it arc toward the mouth of the cave system where this group of Quatro had made their home.

  “Right on the money,” Bronson said. “Hit them again.”

  Without warning, everything shifted, and Gabe was inside the caves themselves, among the Quatro.

  He heard the first grenade quietly skitter across the rocks near the cave mouth. Several giant Quatro heads swung toward the sound, gazing warily into the darkness.

  Then came the explosion, rapidly converting the world into flame and death.

  A fiery shockwave tore through cave after cave. Those Quatro closest to the bomb were simply incinerated, while those farther in caught fire, their burning fur reeking.

  The bomb consumed the air for its fuel, in an explosion that never seemed to end.

  Even those farthest from the explosion would suffer countless internal injuries—concussions, burst ear drums, ruptured lungs. Blindness. If any of the Quatro or their pups managed to escape the endless barrage, they would limp away with maladies they’d likely carry for the rest of their lives.

  Gabe bolted upright amidst sweaty, tangled blankets.

  Another nightmare. As it receded, he recalled that his life had also become a nightmare, of sorts.

  Jess. The thought of her made him want to stay inside and weep. But there was work to do.

  The smell of perfume still clung to the sheets he’d shared with her just two nights before. Trying his best to ignore it, he pulled himself out of bed and started getting dressed.

  Yesterday had been a day of searching for survivors and burying the dead. Today would be one for figuring out exactly what had happened during the Quatro attack on Northshire.

  And why.

  To that end, Darkstream was sending a team of analysts down from Valhalla. If Gabe were to guess, he’d say the team would likely focus on the fact that the Quatro had shown up with guns, when it had always seemed like a given that the aliens couldn't possibly operate technology of any kind, due to the simple facts of their anatomy. Their paws weren’t evolved to grasp anything—case closed. At least, it should have been closed.

  Gabe felt like his skin concealed a vast well of emptiness inside him. Only bitterness could fill that void, if he let it. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

  However they did it, the Quatro have shown their true nature. We haven’t touched them for years, and then they did this to us. Slaughtered the people of Northshire. Took Jess from me forever.

  He’d gotten one night with her. Just one. After months of glances stolen across the oaken dining table, at meals with the mayor and his family. Months of chance meetings on the village green, paired with sly winks and wry remarks from Jess, which had always left him blinking, baffled.

  More importantly, it had left him feeling something. That had always been a rarity, for Gabe. But Jess had managed it.

  No more.

  He’d been such a coward. Their difference in age should have meant nothing to him. He should have cast aside his career the moment they’d met, spirited her away to…somewhere. Anywhere. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it had. And now she was gone.

  Cursing quietly, he left his private quarters and headed down the path into the village, the one he’d walked every day during happier times. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to walk it for much longer. He wanted to leave Northshire behind a
nd never return.

  At the village green, he found the team of company analysts had already arrived and were inspecting everything there was to inspect.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked after walking up to one of them.

  “Secure the perimeter. And try to do a better job of it, this time.”

  It took everything Gabe had not to knock the little weasel to the ground. “I was ordered away,” he growled. “Darkstream ordered me away.”

  “Whatever.”

  Gabe stalked off, his chest rising and falling rapidly with rage. Almost, he turned around to attack the cretin who’d tried to lay Jess’s death at his feet.

  This wasn’t Gabe’s fault. It was the Quatro. It was the Ambler’s who’d attacked Allendale. But it wasn’t his.

  Or is it? a tiny voice asked.

  He decided to check on Seaman Sawyer, who had managed to survive his injuries and was recovering in the infirmary. Doctor Poe even said he might be battleworthy again, after a few months.

  But before Gabe reached the infirmary, a message came in over the system-net, glowing yellow in the upper-right corner of his HUD. He willed it to open, and it did.

  Captain Bob Bronson’s face appeared, hovering over reality. That gave Gabe a start, given how recently he’d seen that face, in his nightmare. And how long it had been since he’d seen it in real life.

  “Roach,” Bronson said. “I have a proposition for you. The company made a strange discovery, out in Kuiper Belt 2. We found a mech, and it’s pretty clear that whoever built the Gatherers also built this thing. It means a huge leap forward in Darkstream’s own attempts to build one, and we expect to have a working model soon. A unit’s worth of them, shortly after that.”

  Bronson grinned. “We have a lot of viable candidates to pilot them, but they’re mostly untrained scrubs who score highly on the relevant lucid leaderboards. We need somebody who can whip them into shape, fast. That somebody’s you, Roach. We know you have the chops for it, and we also know you like being the first to do things. At least, if you’re the same man I remember, you do. This is classified for now, but the public will learn about it soon enough, and we expect having your name attached to the project will make for decent PR.