Mech Wars: The Complete Series

by Scott Bartlett

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’re drawing up beside the comet now. I’ll open up the shuttle bay, and you jump out. Don’t screw up the jump, for God’s sake. If things go south after you land, we’ll hit that thing with the Javelin’s weapons until we’ve got it under control. There really shouldn’t be very much to this, Price.”

  “Yes, sir.” In front of Jake’s MIMAS, the shuttle bay doors had begun to open. Jake stepped forward, getting into position and crouching slightly. The EMP device was affixed to the side of his mech.

  All I have to do is set it off.

  When the doors drew apart, he leapt.

  On the surface of the comet, the alien mech reacted immediately. Luckily, the thing chose to go with a pair of rockets to try to shoot Jake on his way over, and Jake responded by retracting his hands and pelting the missiles with his rotary autocannons. He neutralized them both well before they reached him, and they became brief flashes in the void.

  Then his feet hit the ice surface, and the alien mech charged.

  Of course, charges didn’t amount to much, in the incredibly low gravity of the comet. Jake sidestepped with ease, taking care not to send himself careening into space.

  The mech did leave the comet’s surface, but only briefly. It spread its hands backward, igniting thrusters that blossomed from its palms to return to the comet’s surface.

  Jake fired the autocannons again, and the momentum pushed the MIMAS backward across the ice.

  Screw this. It was time to activate the EMP. He placed a giant metal hand over the device, ready to activate it as soon as the alien mech drew near.

  “Price!” It was Bronson, and this time he did sound panicked.

  Jake turned to stare back at the destroyer. An enormous cloud of tiny robots had appeared, presumably from the closest comet, which had drawn suspiciously near. The robots were now sailing toward the warship, and the ones in front were about to land on her hull.

  The Javelin was using secondary lasers, kinetic impactors, and missiles to try to take down as many of the robots as she could, and several went down, but there were many more that continued to advance. At least half of the robots looked set to land on the ship.

  The destroyer’s point defense turrets were the last line of defense, and they took down a few more of the robots. Then, the first ones landed. When they did, they started plunging their metal hands into the Javelin’s surface, ripping away at the steel as though it were tissue paper.

  “Sir!” Jake said. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “We have no way to deal with the ones that landed!” Bronson said. “Price—don’t set off that EMP yet. I need your mech operational, in order to pick off these things!”

  Inside the dream, the midnight-black of space flashed red and white. Jake looked at the mech, which was still charging, and then back at the tinier robots, industriously savaging the Javelin.

  With creeping fear, he began to appreciate just how desperate his situation had become: he’d have to somehow fend off the alien mech while dealing with the robots attacking the destroyer.

  He shook himself. Better get to work. He opened fire with the rotary autocannons, and the rounds’ momentum pushed him backward across the ice once more.

  “Dad, take the Whale farther out,” he yelled over a wide channel. “This is going to be more hectic than expected!”

  Chapter 41

  Paste

  With Chief Roach gone native, and Jake running off to the Belt, Ash Sweeney found herself in command of what remained of Oneiri Team.

  Of course, she herself was under the command of Captain Arkady Black, who had been picked up by a shuttle from Plenitos and flown to Valhalla Station in time to command the new reserve battalion Darkstream was sending down to Eresos, to try to stop the quads, Quatro, and Red Company.

  The soldiers of this reserve battalion called themselves the Winged Dragons.

  What is it with Darkstream reserve forces and awful names? All dragons have wings. The name was woefully redundant, though Ash supposed it did roll off the tongue.

  Leaving her mech where it sat near the others, she paced around the space elevator as it inched toward the planet, with painful slowness. Weaving between infantry, tanks, and personnel carriers, Ash wondered whether Captain Black actually had a plan for beating the Quatro that was likely to work. If he did, he hadn’t shared it with her.

  I guess OPSEC is a thing.

  She ran over the names of the MIMAS pilots now under her command, as well as each pilot’s main strength, as far as battle was concerned.

  Richaud—bold. Marco—quick-witted. Henrietta—dogged. Beth…

  Ash rounded a tank, and suddenly Beth Arkanian was before her, wearing her characteristic warm smile.

  “Hey, Steam.”

  “Hey…Paste,” Ash said, making a snap decision.

  “Paste?”

  “Yeah. You keep us together, Beth. I don’t know if you’re ever going to get a nickname from battle, because your best quality is the way you keep us together outside of battle, like glue. You keep us all on the level, ready for the next engagement. So, Paste.”

  “Okay, then. Paste it is. Thanks.”

  “How are you holding up?” Ash said.

  “I came here to ask you the same thing.”

  Ash nodded. “Just like paste would.”

  “I’m pretty sure paste can’t talk,” Beth said. “I get your meaning, though. How are you, Steam?”

  “I’m, uh…” Ash shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  Kind of. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Jake had told her before he left for the Belt. But he’d told her because he thought she deserved to know. It wasn’t her place to spread gossip about the chief, even if he had jumped from a space station inside an alien mech while in a coma. “Nah. Just getting used to the idea of command, I guess.”

  “Well, I’m always there for you, if you need me.”

  “I know you are. Thanks, Paste.”

  Beth smiled wider, then turned and headed back toward the mechs, pinned brown hair bobbing behind her.

  Maybe Paste isn’t a great nickname. Oh well.

  Her thoughts returned to what Jake had told her before leaving for the Belt—about Chief Roach and Ash’s sister, Jess.

  It had been so unexpected. She’d remembered Jess writing her about a new man in her life, an older man, who she’d claimed to be obsessed with. “I’m going to make a move on him soon,” Jess had written. Ash never would have guessed that the man was Gabriel Roach.

  Apparently, Jess’s move had panned out—at least, according to what Jake had seen when he’d entered lucid to speak with Roach.

  “He loved her, Ash,” Jake had said. “There’s no question about that.”

  The age difference between her sister and Roach had been quite large, but Jess had always gone after what she wanted, regardless of anyone’s opinion. Ash didn’t begrudge her that, and she didn’t begrudge Roach whatever they’d had either, especially since he’d obviously cared about her.

  What struck her most about it all was that the exact same thing that had been driving Roach to wage this war was also driving Ash. Not just the concept of seeking vengeance, but vengeance sought for the exact same person.

  Jess Sweeney.

  Given this unexpected kinship with the chief, Ash felt determined to somehow find him on the surface of Eresos, and to reunite with him. More than ever, she wanted to work with Roach to defeat the Quatro, even if he didn’t want to work with Oneiri Team any longer.

  “Sweeney.” It was Captain Black, subvocalizing so that she heard him over her implant.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “The Quatro and their new mechs have reached Ingress, and they’re digging again. This time, they seem much likelier to succeed. They’ve started their tunnel out of range of the city walls, on top of a hill. Those mechs of theirs seem to be even more proficient diggers than the Quatro thems
elves. They also have Red Company with them, helping them to defend the tunnel mouth.”

  “Does that mean what I think it means, sir?”

  “If you think it means that your pilots need to get into their mechs right away, to jump down to the surface ahead of the elevator, then yes. Yes, it does.”

  Chapter 42

  Nature’s Original Shape

  If Wound had ever doubted that his new battle suit was built by the same species that built the Gatherers, after seeing how quickly the suits enabled Quatro to tunnel through the earth, he doubted no longer.

  He knew that the walls of the city the humans called Ingress extended below the planet’s surface for nearly two hundred meters, but that did not faze him. His great paws could morph to become wide, flat surfaces, ideal for displacing great mounds of dirt, and the front of the battle suit could change to fit the tunnel’s dimensions, plowing the piles of earth back to the surface.

  Whenever Wound encountered rock, he simply blasted it apart and transported the pieces out of the tunnel.

  He didn’t relish this task, nor did he look forward to the lives he knew he would have to take once he and the others infiltrated the city.

  Or do I? Because it is true that I dream at night of ripping out human jugulars with my teeth, of watching the scarlet spurt and letting it coat my face before I drink deeply of that—

  Wound shook his head savagely. That thought had not been his own.

  The voices the battle suit seemed to produce had grown loud enough for him to understand their words almost every time they whispered to him, now. Often, they paraded as his own thoughts, and once—just once—he’d found himself believing it.

  That had scared him. He’d opened up the suit on that night and fled from it, running through field and forest to try to escape the voices, which did not follow him outside the mech.

  After he’d returned, the suit had accepted him willingly once more, and the voices had abated for a time.

  But now that he needed to be inside the suit for a prolonged period, it seemed they had come back, stronger than before.

  “We’ll let this planet burn,” Wound muttered as he emerged from the tunnel with a load of earth, depositing it on the mound that had been building steadily for over two hours.

  “What did you say?” Saul turned toward him, studying Wound from within the stolen MIMAS mech, which he piloted now.

  “What?” Wound said, trying to keep his voice from coming out too loudly, which could easily happen while inside the suit. “I said nothing.”

  “You did. You said something about letting Eresos burn.”

  “Well, chaos is nature’s original shape. It’s best for us to accept that, immerse ourselves in it, and aid in its spread. We will weather entropy far better if we become its agents.”

  Saul’s MIMAS was very still.

  Slowly, Wound registered what had just happened. “S-Saul, I did not say that. It was the suit. That was not my sentiment.”

  “Uh huh. You’re going to need to keep it together for us, Wound. We need you shipshape, if we’re going to pull this off. Darkstream’s going to send everything it has against us. You know that, right?”

  “I do. I…should return to digging.”

  “You do that.”

  “Do you…do you think they have her inside the city walls?”

  “Her? Who’s her?”

  “My mate. I lost her, long ago. She came to me in a dream last night. I believe she may be within.”

  “Wound—”

  But Wound turned, stalking back inside the tunnel that crept toward the city of Ingress, inch by inch. His work, mostly. The other Quatro, with whom he’d always been so close…he wondered why, now. What did they offer him that rightly compensated him for his contributions?

  Nothing.

  Always prying where they weren’t welcome, were the Quatro. All of them. His entire species. With sanctimonious words of solidarity and community, they sought to control each other. To control him. Wasn’t freedom the reason they’d left the Home Systems in the first place? And now they’d come to this!

  They deserve everything they’ve gotten.

  Wound had often wondered whether the price they’d paid in coming here, in freeing themselves from the Assembly of Elders, had been worth it.

  He didn’t wonder that anymore.

  It was worth it, all right. Well worth it. Because now I have found true freedom, inside a community worthy of me.

  This disjointed line of thought continued for some time, the whispers encouraging him all the while, urging him on.

  Eventually, they fell silent, and Wound paused digging, raising his head from his work, having been struck by the faint notion that something had just happened to him.

  Chapter 43

  Our Best Idea

  Ash’s parachute disengaged, fluttering away into the sky, and she plummeted the rest of the way, heavy metal feet hitting the earth with incredible force, all of which was absorbed by her mech’s complex system of shocks.

  All around her, Oneiri Team came crashing down, and even inside her own mech—even inside the dream—she could feel the tremors their impacts caused.

  “Let’s move,” Ash said over the team-wide as Richaud, the last to land, touched down.

  The five of them sprinted over the grassy terrain, toward where the quads were digging their tunnel on a hilltop.

  “This doesn’t seem like our best idea,” Marco said as they ran, his voice carrying none of the strain it should have, traveling with such speed. That was the beauty of piloting a MIMAS. “We’re attacking mechs we know to be superior to ours. Those mechs outnumber us, and we know them to be supported by a lot of Quatro as well as Red Company mercenaries. Not only that, the terrain favors them, not us. Our odds suck, Steam.”

  The dream-sky flashed bright orange with Ash’s annoyance. “I think your nickname will be Spirit, Marco. Because you’re clearly so good at raising ours.” She was sure it was a bad idea to christen Marco with his nickname out of sarcasm, and the others might not even accept it. “We have no choice but to engage. If we don’t, they’ll be inside Ingress in short order. It’s why we jumped down in the first place.”

  No answer from Marco. Maybe he was mulling over the nickname she’d given him.

  Red Company fighters were distributed around the hill’s slope, and they began firing on the MIMAS mechs the moment they were in range—with sniper fire first, followed quickly by rockets, mortars, and grenades.

  The ground Oneiri Team ran on quickly became a warzone, peppered by explosions.

  “Don’t just count on your mech to endure these, people,” Ash barked over the team-wide. “We don’t know how many hits like that we can take, and we all saw how banged up Chief Roach’s mech was when he came back, so we know we’re far from invincible.”

  The others did as she told them, weaving left and right, slowing at random intervals and speeding at others. In this way, they made it as difficult as possible for the mercenaries to score a direct hit on their mechs.

  Even so, a rocket caught Henrietta full in the chest, knocking her MIMAS back, though she caught herself with her left hand, propelling herself straight back into a run.

  Shortly after, Richaud failed to anticipate a grenade’s trajectory, and it exploded near him, washing his mech with flame and leaving it singed.

  Still, Oneiri Team barreled on.

  And then they were at the hillside. As they bounded up the slope, Ash opted for her heavy machine gun, picking off Red Company fighters one by one.

  Richaud favored a slightly less subtle approach, running and gunning with both rotary autocannons firing at full bore. Beth started out launching grenades, but soon switched to her own machine gun after the second bomb rolled down the hill to explode harmlessly, far from any target. Marco and Henrietta switched between their heavy machine guns interspersed with occasional rockets, to target areas where the enemy were clustered together.

  No one used their lasers
, since it would have been a waste to use up that much energy on mere infantry.

  Either way, in short order, the Red Company mercenaries were sent into full flight, running as fast as they could toward the sanctuary of the hilltop.

  Ash stowed her heavy machine gun and caught up with two of the mercenaries, a man and a woman. Extending both bayonets, she took them both in their backs with the blades.

  Suddenly, she drew to a stop on the steep slope. It struck her that those were the first human beings she’d killed…well, ever. Before, all her targets had been aliens, which had seemed more acceptable, somehow, especially since she kept her sister’s death at the front of her mind at all times.

  The sky flashed a dark green—the color of nausea, she quickly realized.

  “Steam?” Richaud said, turning toward her from a position farther up on the hill. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” Ash said, shaking herself, then continuing up the hill.

  Without warning, three quads leapt into view. One of them charged straight at Ash.

  She ripped the heavy machine gun from her back once more, opening fire. The quad seemed to simply absorb the bullets, though her implant did track flecks of shrapnel flying off the enemy mech with each impact.

  Then, the Quatro mech reached her, running her over, sending her tumbling backward down the hill, the machine gun flying from her grasp and cartwheeling on ahead of her.

  She scrambled to find her footing as the world rotated around her again and again. At last, she regained her feet, looking around desperately for her foe.

  There. Coming straight at her, again, on a diagonal across the hillside.

  Ash leapt into the air, retracting her hands against her wrists and opening fire with the autocannons they revealed, pelting the quad with round after armor-piercing round.