Mech Wars: The Complete Series

by Scott Bartlett

  Slowly, Bronson shook his head. “With respect, I think you’re discounting the Progenitors’ subtlety. Remember who built the alien mechs, after all! It’s possible they anticipated Price’s arrival—engineered it, even. I’m sure they knew the battle would end with Darkstream’s losses falling within an acceptable range.”

  Defleur rearranged her robes around her legs, pulling them tighter. The throne room was a bit drafty, which Bronson had to assume was meant to lend the sim authenticity, though personally he was fine sacrificing some authenticity for comfort. The chill crept inside him, though he knew better than to let on that it was affecting his composure.

  Those windows don’t even have glass, Bronson thought, his gaze flitting to the row of narrow apertures above the six thrones.

  “You speak of possibilities,” Defleur said when she’d arranged the showy garment to her satisfaction. “You say you are ‘sure.’ But I always make a point of reading between the lines, Captain Bronson, and what I’m coming to understand is that the Progenitors have refrained from sharing their methods even with you.”

  Nodding, Bronson said, “I’ll admit, the Progenitors are tight-lipped about a lot of things. But that’s exactly how we’d act during talks with a foreign power. Indeed, it’s exactly how we are acting. I know it’s hard to watch the chaos that’s gripping Eresos, but what other method is there for expanding profits so quickly? The war with the Quatro achieved a steady rate of growth, certainly, but we all know how finicky our Steele System shareholders are. Things aren’t like they were back in the Milky Way, where we could count on market dominance. The only way to give our shareholders the sort of growth that makes them feel safe is to make sure everyone on Eresos equates Darkstream with safety. We need them howling for contracts with us, and we need them willing to part with limbs to get them. Until everyone on Eresos feels unsafe unless they’re huddled against us, we won’t have exploited the potential this market has to offer.”

  “Even so,” Harris said. The man spoke little, and when he did, something about the way his voice creaked made others pay attention. “What’s our endgame? We cannot very well let our charges die. We do need our customers to continue living if they’re to continue paying. What happens when we’ve saturated the market on Eresos? There are no new markets, especially given the fall of Hub, which we moved too slowly to exploit.”

  “Well, I think we can all agree that there’s room yet on Eresos to grow. After all, the Progenitors did just do us the favor of removing Red Company for us, our only competitor. As for what happens when Eresos is saturated…well, the Progenitors have assured me that they have a solution.”

  “Again, this talk of assurances and possibilities,” Defleur said. “I’m sick of it.”

  Bronson stood, spreading his hands with his palms facing the board. “Please. Esteemed members of the board. Haven’t I done right by you? Aren’t I the one who brought you the battle group of UHF warships, including one with a working wormhole generator? Aren’t I the one who helped you ensure that the Javelin preserved that wormhole capability, by preventing it from ever getting connected to the master control? And didn’t I negotiate our transition out of the wartorn Milky Way, before catalyzing the explosive growth we’ve seen since settling in the Steele System?”

  “You have,” Defleur conceded.

  “Then please, continue to trust that I’ll deliver results. The Progenitors have been masterful in their efforts to help us exploit the Steele System to the fullest. Results don’t lie. Growth doesn’t lie. The way forward might look murky, sometimes, but we have to continue to live by the ledger, don’t we? What else is there?”

  That brought a protracted silence, followed by a gradual leeching away of the tension that had gripped the medieval throne room.

  As always, the board of directors yielded to the confidence and logic of Bronson’s words. They were a finicky lot, and they liked to pretend to more power than they had, but in the end, they resumed their actual roles: sit there and let Bronson make them richer.

  Which he always did. But in doing so, he enriched himself, and increased his influence over not only them, but everyone involved.

  Bronson planned to use the Progenitors, just as he used the board. He doubted that would prove easy, but he considered himself up to the task.

  And maybe, someday, the Progenitors would yield to his will too.

  Chapter 2

  Full of Empty Words

  Jake and Lisa walked alone along the outskirts of River Rock—or at least, as alone as you could get with an alien padding along a few meters behind you, inside of a giant quadruped mech.

  Knowing he likely couldn’t speak low enough to avoid being overheard by the quad’s enhanced hearing, Jake didn’t bother to try:

  “Can she be trusted, Lisa?” he asked, glancing backward. The alien piloting the mech, who Lisa called Rug, didn’t react to his question. She only continued forward, her pace measured, her scarlet eyes glowing in the gloom that had settled over the region.

  “I would trust her with my life,” Lisa said. “In fact, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Rug and the other Quatro. But I’ve already told you this, Jake. I don’t remember ever having to repeat myself to you. Have you slowed down in your old age?”

  The joke came accompanied by a slight smile. Jake was only one year older than Lisa—something she’d managed to tease him about since the day they’d met, in grade school.

  And she’ll probably tease me about it till we’re in our sixties, providing we make it that far…

  He cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear away that line of thought. “I know I asked it before. It’s just that…it seems pretty clear that whoever made the mechs for the Quatro also made the one I pilot now, and the one that Roach piloted. Why would they do that? Since when does anyone hand over advanced tech to alien species for their own good?”

  “You think the alien mechs were given in order to hurt us somehow.”

  “Yeah.”

  Lisa’s grin returned. “Are you sure you should be looking a gift mech in the mouth?”

  Unfortunately, her efforts to cheer him weren’t working. “The alien mech I pilot…it whispers to me, Lisa. It tempts me to give up parts of myself, in exchange for more power. Look what it did to Roach. He kept giving to his mech, until there wasn’t enough left of him to stay sane.”

  “Do you really think you’ll give in to your mech? Knowing what you know?”

  Jake hesitated. “No…no, I’m pretty confident I’ve learned to control it. But I can’t say the same for your friend behind us. Has she shown any signs of erratic behavior?”

  Lisa took a moment, her head cocking to one side, causing her raven hair to sway. She’d let it down before they’d taken this walk, and it looked great, if Jake was being honest. A hint of lavender managed to reach him through the still, moist air, and he assumed it must be her shampoo.

  “She’s mourning the loss of her mate. Who, admittedly, did act erratically. He helped us before he died, but before then he was responsible for the deaths of many innocent people.” Now it was Lisa’s turn to glance backward. “Rug…she’s sad, but she’s still herself. I’d be able to tell if she was different. We’ve grown quite close.” Lisa’s head was still twisted around, and now she smiled at the alien, whose enormous head dipped in response.

  “Well, I trust your judgment, Lisa,” Jake said.

  “Good. But even if you didn’t, could we really afford not to retain Rug as an ally, as well as everyone else who’s willing to fight with us?”

  They were approaching the part of River Rock that bordered the Barrens, having almost completed a full circuit of the village. “No,” Jake said. “We can’t afford to turn anyone away.” He sighed. “Darkstream is still as dominant as they ever were—more, if that’s possible. Plus, with the planet’s robots turning against us, and with Oneiri shattered…” Shaking his head, he said, “We need everyone we can get.”

  Lisa’s head was cocked to th
e side once more. “You’ve changed since we were kids, you know.”

  “I hope I have!” he said, chuckling.

  “Seriously. You’re more willing to bend, whereas before you’d have sooner snapped in two before compromising on anything. It seems you’ve managed to actually acquire some wisdom, Jake Price. Somehow.”

  At last, Jake smiled. Looks like she did it after all. She lifted my mood.

  “Have you given any thought to what our next steps should be?” he asked.

  “Only in the short-term. I need to rejoin with Andy, and see that he’s all right with my own eyes.”

  “So when’s the wedding for you two?” Jake asked, teasing. Although, something else underlaid his ribbing—something that had an edge.

  Lisa grinned. “Very funny. All I know is, I’d feel better having Andy with me, especially since I have no idea what’s going to happen next on this planet.”

  “Right. Got it.” Jake could sense that edge creeping into his voice, and he did his best to suppress it.

  “It seems we both agree that we can’t fight Darkstream with our current numbers. Andy is staying with a Quatro drift, and I’d predict that they’re ready to join an organized effort to oppose the company that’s been oppressing them for decades. They might even be able to help us recruit even more Quatro. Who knows, maybe we’ll stumble on what our next steps should be once we reach Andy.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Jake said.

  They’d reached the abandoned home Lisa was sharing with Tessa Notaras and a couple members of the militia she’d put together before leaving Alex. Jake sensed that their walk was over.

  But before she went inside, Lisa said, “There’s something else I wanted to ask you about. As you searched Hub for survivors, and helped them onto the ships that brought them here…did you encounter my father?”

  Jake’s stomach dropped. “No, Lisa,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t.” Gi Sato hadn’t even crossed his mind, which made him feel awful. “I’m sorry. I should have personally ensured that he was located.”

  She bowed her head. “No, Jake. I understand that the exodus from our home was not exactly orderly.” Her eyes rose to meet his. “You risked your life, and you saved so many. I’m truly grateful.”

  But to Jake, it wasn’t good enough. “The refugee fleet is still putting together their passenger manifests, but I’m going to contact them and ask that they specifically search the ships for your father. The moment I have word one way or another, you’ll know.”

  With that, Lisa wrapped her arms around him, gripping him tightly—even tighter than she had when they’d first reunited, out on the Barrens.

  “Thank you, Jake,” she whispered into his ear. “Thank you. Listen—Marco told me about your sister. I just want you to know how sorry I am. I’ll never forget how kind Sue Anne was.”

  He mustered the best smile he could. “Thank you, Lisa. Thank you. It means a lot.”

  Lisa went inside, and the moment she did, the same profound loneliness returned that had haunted Jake since the Battle of Vanguard. Even though he was surrounded by friends and allies, ever since Sue Anne’s sickness had taken her, he’d felt lonelier than he’d known it was possible to feel.

  With her gone, the universe felt empty. She hadn’t just been his dear sister, she’d also provided his purpose—he’d built his life around getting enough money to save her somehow.

  Well, you failed at that. Didn’t you?

  Despair always came on the heels of the loneliness, and this time was no exception. He had no idea what was happening in the Steele System, but there were times he felt convinced that he was powerless to stop it.

  If he couldn’t stop Darkstream, couldn’t stop the robot killers that seemed intent on tearing apart the system, then that would be his fault, too. It had been his job to maintain security and stability—he still considered it his job. One he was failing at.

  He knew, now, how devastating it was to lose a sister. If he lost his mother and father as well, because he wasn’t strong enough…

  I can’t. I can’t let it happen.

  But the thought seemed full of empty words, and they didn’t provide him any comfort.

  Chapter 3

  Engage Every Hostile

  Beth and Henrietta strode the grass-covered surface of Eresos in their MIMAS mechs, and the brittle vegetation crackled underneath their broad metal feet.

  Between them walked Captain Bob Bronson, childlike in his comparative shortness.

  It wasn’t actually Bronson, of course—it was his simulacrum, projected into the mech dream via lucid as he spoke to them from the Javelin.

  “You’re welcome to keep your jobs,” he told them. “Even after your stopover at River Rock. But don’t try to fool me about the purpose of that little detour.”

  “We were running recon on Jake Price and the other traitors,” Henrietta said, her voice flat. “If we hadn’t followed them there, you wouldn’t have confirmation that he and Marco Gonzalez plan to betray Darkstream. And you wouldn’t know about Lisa Sato and Tessa Notaras at the head of a Quatro horde.”

  Henrietta’s words brought a curt nod from the Darkstream captain. “That’s a fine answer. I’ll even log it as your explanation for failing to follow my order to come immediately to Valhalla after the Battle of Vanguard. But you still haven’t fooled me. I know you were entertaining the idea of turning against us. Consider yourselves both on notice. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  Until now, Beth had been letting Henrietta do the talking, but she sensed that Bronson was about to cut the conversation short, and there was something important that the other MIMAS pilot had so far neglected to ask him.

  “Can we get an evac, sir?” Beth asked.

  “Negative,” Bronson said, and the widening of his grin told Beth he’d been anticipating the question with some eagerness.

  “Seriously?” Henrietta said. “Why the hell not?”

  “Easy, Jin,” Bronson said, his evident mirth intact. “You’ve just been given your jobs back. You should consider yourselves incredibly fortunate. As for an evac, there’s no ship available to park in orbit over your location and wait while you rocket up. Your chance to do that was back at Vanguard. Now you’ll have to travel to Ingress and take the space elevator.”

  “Sir…” Beth said, hesitating. She knew that there was no argument she could make to change his mind, and that she was already treading on thin ice. But she couldn’t help stating the obvious. “Eresos is in total chaos. It’s safe to assume we’re surrounded by hostiles right now, and not just the Quatro. There’s also the Gatherers to consider, and the Ravagers, plus we still don’t know how a MIMAS will fare against an Ambler—”

  “Ravagers?” Bronson said. “Where did you come by that term?”

  “P-Price, sir,” Beth stammered, and Henrietta’s mech whipped its head around to stare at her. She felt pretty sure the other pilot was glaring.

  “I see.” Bronson’s grin had melted into an expression that was all business. “Consider your trek back to Ingress a mission to settle down the countryside.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Henrietta asked.

  “By engaging every hostile you encounter. Bronson out.” With that, the captain disappeared.

  Henrietta was still staring at Beth, and now her mech’s hands lifted into the air in an exasperated gesture. “You just had to piss him off, didn’t you?”

  They continued on toward Ingress. It wasn’t long before their HUDs, linked into the system net and kept updated by satellite scans of the planet’s surface, alerted them to the presence of an Ambler roaming less than a kilometer to the north, on the other side of a tree-covered rise.

  Razor will probably want to interpret Bronson’s order as favorably as possible, Beth reflected. For that reason, she kept walking north-west, along a trajectory that wouldn’t intercept the Ambler’s.

  “Where are you going?” Henrietta said, extending the bayonets that had e
arned her the nickname Razor.

  “Bronson told us to take out any hostiles we encountered. I didn’t figure you’d consider being a kilometer away ‘encountering’ them.”

  “You kidding? I’m itching to see how our mechs stack up against Amblers. Besides, after talking to that dick, I need to blow off some steam.”

  Steam. Hearing Ash Sweeney’s nickname made Beth wince inside her mech, and inside the dream, it lent a red tinge to the sky. I bet Henrietta used that word to goad me. The other pilot grew testy when she was angry, and she wasn’t above taking it out on her teammates.

  Except, they weren’t teammates anymore, were they? Oneiri Team was shattered, and they were just individual mercenaries working for a company with questionable motives.

  She decided that rising to Henrietta’s bait wouldn’t serve anything. Instead, Beth extended her own bayonets, and the metallic rasp of the blades projecting from her wrists was as satisfying as always.

  “Fine. What’s the plan?”

  They crept over the hill, which was covered in Eresos’ unique species of leafless trees, whose branches cascaded downward in waves until they brushed the ground. As they crested the rise, a gap in those trees showed them the Ambler, surrounded by a group of Gatherers—twenty-one of them, according to Beth’s HUD.

  “You creep closer while I circle around,” Henrietta said. “When I give the signal, engage the Ambler, then melt back into the woods. If I’m right, it’ll break rank with the Gatherers to chase you. Once it’s far enough away, I’ll engage the smaller bots, tear them to shreds. Keep your distance from the Ambler till I can close with it from behind. We’ll take it out together.”

  Beth nodded. “I like it.” And she did. She was surprised that Henrietta was playing it so safe, actually—that wasn’t typically her MO when she was upset.

  Maybe Henrietta’s changing. She wouldn’t have considered it possible, back during MIMAS training on Valhalla. Then again, Eresos had changed all of them, hadn’t it?