by Bear Ross
Light Exo league rules dictated once all distance weapons were expended, canopy armors were to retract to enhance the close combat and up the danger factor, even though shielding was still in place. After Jessica fired her last rocket, her own cockpit armor withdrew back in mechanical stages with machined precision, and she took in the direct view of Red Iridium. It was amazing.
She saw her own image on the display screens, her name written in flashing Gatekeeper letters, and took in the jubilation of the crowd. The match was over, they were just waiting for the official decision by the officials in their armored booths. She gave a thumbs-up to the cameras zoomed in on her, and started to look for Prath in the stands.
The friendly crowd’s cheers turned to screams, and she turned to see Zerren Beff's burning mech.
The mandatory cockpit shields could protect against incoming weaponry, and provided some resistance to most close combat weaponry, but they did nothing against fire. Mech gladiators, whether they were organic or machine, didn’t fear cannons or cutting lasers, but burning to death was a demise dreaded by all.
Beff's shattered cockpit armor was jammed, his main hull blazing from the missile strike and internal detonations. One side of the control module's shell peeled back like her own, but the other half was a tangled mess. Jessica saw that Beff was panicking, his compartment filled with a swirling orange-gray mix of smoke, flames, and fire extinguisher discharge.
Automated crash bots emerged from armored doors in the stadium's walls, but they weren't going to make it in time. Kramer cursed, silently urging her opponent to focus, to fight the pain of the flames, to pull the ejection lever.
Zerren Beff's armor sparked, and the damaged cockpit armor and transparent canopy soared off at an awkward angle. A red and yellow ball flew from the flaming compartment. It was a protective airbag containing the pilot, ejection seat, and a small rocket motor.
Arcing through the air on a tiny jet of flame, it landed with a wounded thump on the arena floor. The crowd cheered, and Jessica sighed in relief.
Zerren Beff kicked his way out of the inflated rescue cushions. He flopped around like a fish in a frying pan, beating the last of the flames out on his pilot coveralls and harness. Disgusted and angry, he tore off his helmet and threw it as hard as he could. It hit a bare patch of floor and bounced into the path of a portly ambulance vehicle bot arriving late to the party. The rescue bot's tank-like treads flattened the helmet. The infuriated Beff turned an even darker shade of purple. Jessica suppressed a laugh, and watched the crash crew bots fight the rising flames of Zerren's shattered mech as he stormed back to the mech pit entrance on foot.
Jessica watched, amused, as the recovery bots approach her own shattered mech. A whole new foot would need to be printed, machined, and fitted. This was not going to be a fun repair bill, even with her doing most of the labor.
But, if this job for Mikralos paid off, the invoice would be small change, a pittance compared to what awaited her in the Hammer Leagues. She was moving up to where the Gatekeepers and their networks dished out real credits, and in real quantities. Sponsorships, endorsement deals, and near-bottomless gear budgets. A med-bot poked a sensor antenna at her, chirping to inquire if she needed medical attention. Kramer waved it off, and undid the snaps to her helmet.
“Thanks, but no thanks, med-bot,” Jessica said. “I couldn’t afford the fees for a check-up, even if I needed it. I think Beff might need some burn cream, though. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets back to the pits.”
She smiled as the repair bots attached grav pods to her immobilized mech. Once secured, the long, pontoon-like pods glowed to life, buoying the damaged machine up to a low hover. She jostled in the cockpit as the bots towed her to the pits.
Jessica Kramer imagined how she was going to spend the money of tonight’s fight, after the Gatekeepers took their fees and taxes out of it. She would start with that nice pair of red boots she saw last gate-week at the Third Gate megamall. She would treat herself to some premium ammo for her pistol, something explosive-tipped. Ooh! Maybe a week at a low-gravity spa, with a tall, dark-eyed masseur with strong hands. Hmmm... nice.
Chapter Five
SECOND GATE ZONE
RED IRIDIUM ARENA
“Nice save out there, Kramer,” the deep, metallic voice of a sentient combat machine said. “For a meatbag, I mean.”
A hovering repair drone squawked as the last bead of lasered weld cooled on her mech's new ankle joint. Jessica turned from the repair, hit the small switch that made her darkened welding visor transparent, and looked up. She dismissed the drone with an idle wave. Her eyes focused on the giant, angular figure leaning against the rusted industrial framing of the Red Iridium's repair pits.
“Why, Green Four, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Jessica said to the towering steel figure. Green Four was a member of mechanical beings that came from deep within the First Worldgate’s network of worlds. “You, abasing your 'Unlimited' self to talk to a 'Limited Ordnance' lightweight like me? Should I bow, or curtsy?”
The combat machine playfully held up a giant pair of hands in a pleading motion of surrender, though his steel fingers were tipped with claws that could slice through the side of a tank. Green Four was the size of Jessica's light exo rig, but there was no provision for a cockpit in him. He was his own pilot.
“Whoa, whoa, easy, there, Kramer,” the living machine said. “I don't want you to do another cheap missile shot on me like you did that Beff guy, there.” A deep chuckle rumbled through his speaker.
“Ha ha, very funny, you walking, talking junkheap,” Jessica said, flipping her welding visor back. “He came damn close to running me through with that spear. Even with your speed, you would have been a big metal pincushion. That, out there, was all skill, baby. Meatbags rule, and you know it.”
“I gotta admit,” Green-Four said, ”your targeting computer was really on his game. Even for a lobotomized semi-sentient processor, he pulled your fat out of the fire. You should thank him, you know, show some appreciation. Maybe a nice ultrasonic bath for his pathways, get his signals firing a few nano-seconds faster,” The metallic gladiator clicked his right optical sensor cover with a quick wink.
Jessica put her hand to her chest, feigning outrage as she clutched at non-existent pearls.
“Why, Mister Self-Aware Killing Machine, sir,” Jessica said, grinning, “what a wonderful backhanded compliment.”
“Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em, Kramer,” Green-Four said. “Seriously, though, you ran a good match out there. I mean, even if—”
“Don't even, Greenie,” Jessica said, holding up the laser torch as a pretend warning.
“—you are just—”
The laser torch began to glow, and Green Four grinned.
“—a meatbag,” he said.
“You know what, that's it,” Jessica said, grabbing a piece of twisted armor as she fired up the welder. “I'm going to make you pretty, Green Four. Real pretty. I've got some extra bits here that I'm going to weld on your hide for jewelry. You're going to be my fancy new war-doll.”
“Alright, alright, I'm going,” Green Four said, laughing. “Just get away from me with that scrap, you upright gut-pile! I've got a match tonight!” The armored goliath’s heavy footsteps retreated further down pit row to his own cavernous repair stall.
“You wait until I go 'Unlimited,' Greenie!” Jessica called after him. “I'll be full of cybernetic implants and loaded up on combat drugs, and then we'll tussle! You'll see!”
“Your father never needed those loathsome injections or implants to get the job done, you know,” a voice said from behind her. “His skill, combined with Judah, was more than enough.”
Startled, Jessica wheeled around, the laser torch at the ready. She dropped it when she recognized the large brown and orange figure standing in front of her. He was a member of the Ascended race. More specifically, this Ascended was Prath. He was still as tall as she remembered, an evolved orangutan standing
over seven feet tall with a technician’s vest full of tools. He held a hand-painted sign in front of him. It was the same one she had seen on her cameras, just before the match with Zerren Beff.
“Hello, little human,” he said.
“Prath! Oh, my Gates! That was you in the stands, you big, beautiful ape!” she squealed, throwing herself around him.
The old crew chief held her for a long moment as she sobbed against him. Jessica pulled back from the embrace, wiping grease from her gloves on to her face as she brushed away the tears. The tall Ascended wiped away the ones she missed with a large, leathery hand, and started to groom her scalp as he smiled down at her. He gently kissed her forehead, pulling her back to his chest. She continued to sniffle and cry, but she smiled up at him.
“What... what are you doing here, Prath?” Jessica said as she tried to regain her composure. “How many years has it been? After everything happened, I heard you went back to DevroTech Combatives, but I went there, and you had already moved on, but then I didn’t hear anything for the longest time—”
“Hush, Jessica, hush, it's all right, now, I'm here, now,” Prath said, interrupting her. “I'm sorry for the intervening years, but after the tragedy of Jered and then your parents...”
Prath grew silent, his large brown eyes glistening with their own tears.
“I was so alone, Prath,” Jessica said. “After mom and dad died, the Gatekeepers seized everything, and the Enforcers threw me in juvenile processing. And then, after I busted out of there, everyone was gone. I had to make my own way.”
“I know, love,” Prath said, patting her back.
“And then I couldn’t go home, and the habitat and compound were sealed,” Jessica continued, her voice breaking from time to time. “It’s like they just let the place rot. Dad said they wanted to humiliate us. Maybe that was their plan.”
“I tried to get back, as well, little human,” Prath said. “They threatened to kill or imprison me numerous times.”
“Me, too,” Jessica said. “And then, everyone just disappeared, went their own ways... I only had enough to... I mean, there was a little money coming in from the network, showing Dad's and Jered's fights on highlight reels—” She began to choke up again, and Prath held her by the elbows, looking down into her watering eyes.
“It wasn't easy for any of us, Jessica, dear, believe me,” Prath said. “The years have been hard, what with Jered, your parents, the collapse of the Eighth Gate, along with a fistful of other unmentionable events... life on Junctionworld has been harrowing for everyone.”
“What about the others?” she said. “Did they go with you?”
Prath shook his head, hugged her, then let her go.
“Remember little Corbin, my assistant?” the tall ape said. “Dead. He was caught in the suppression nukes four years ago, when the Fifth Gate almost fell to those giant tentacled beings. Rigella committed suicide around the same time, popped herself through the processor with an EMP round. NK-Five was killed in his first match in some underground, back-alley match put on by the Burella Boys. Most of the old team are gone, dead, or worse.”
“And... and Tevren? Is he...?” Jessica said. Prath's orange brow settled in a scowl as he shook his head and grunted in disgust.
“I heard Tevren was somewhere behind the Eighth Gate when it was sealed off,” Prath said, his large brown hands enveloping hers. “And... and Hannah was with him, too.”
“Gate damn it.”
Jessica’s face hardened at the mention of her sister, and she wiped the last of her tears with the back of her glove.
Prath traced the grease and tears down one side of her face, looking at her with pride.
“Language, Jessica,” he said. “You know we don't speak in such base vulgarities.”
“Sorry, Prath, it's just—”
“It's never so bad that we lower ourselves with uttering the profane,” Prath said. “Ah, look at me, falling back into lecture mode like it was still yesterday.” Jessica giggled and wiped a tear away.
“Yeah, you always were more like a professor than a tech, Prath,” she said. “I remember, this one time, you and dad were installing a new arm on Judah. You were working a power wrench with one foot, an electric meter in the other foot, you were hanging off Judah's shoulder hardpoint with one hand, and even then, you were pointing and fussing at Jered and me about something—”
“'Jered and me,'” Prath said. “I remember that. You and your brother were throwing a missile warhead between you like it was a game of egg toss. Yes, I remember it well, little human. Those were good days, before, well, you know...”
He trailed off, and a sad grin covered his face as the memories seemed to come back in force. They spent another uncomfortable moment of silence together, and then Prath's focus turned to the mech behind her. After a moment of evaluation, his face turned to a scowl.
“Is that... I couldn't make out the details from my seat during the match,” he said, incredulous. “You're piloting that?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, that's the new ride,” Jessica said, beaming with pride. “I haven't named him, yet. Well, I might call him ‘NoName.’ We’ll see. I've only been at it for a few gate-months, or so, in Light Exo. My record so far is—”
“No kills, none officially, yet, anyway. Seven knockouts, counting tonight, and you haven’t been disabled or spared, yet,” he said. “Yes, I know your stats, love.”
“Oh, you know about the underground stuff, huh?” Jessica said.
“I kept tabs on you, little human,” Prath said with a cool tone. “Even when you were slugging it out in the unsanctioned fights, I was watching. Not too close, of course. I didn’t want to draw attention before the time was right.”
“What?” she said, confused.
“Later,” the Ascended said, raising a hand to quiet her. “Back to your mech: I thought it moved like a tc-400 series cargo handler! How did you manage to pull that off? Are those... BelterTech jets you've got on there?” The tall primate walked around the battered mech propped up in its repair rack.
“For more maneuverability up top, yeah,” she said. “A couple pairs of Wyvern boosters on the legs, too, for more thrust out in the open. It wasn't easy, but I remembered a few tricks from my time in your shop. I picked up the basic frame from a surplus auction at the Third Gate loading docks. It was worn out as all void—”
“Language.”
“Prath,” Jessica said, putting a hand on her hip, “I'm a grown woman wrenching on my own mech, in my own repair bay. I'll swear if I damned-well please, you big, beautiful ape. Now, like I was saying, basic frame at auction, right? I did a teensy-weensy little bit of underground brawling, and used those winnings to get this rig up and running. tc-400s are just civilian versions of the Gatekeeper Enforcement Directorate mechs.”
“Hmm, yes, about as much as a mule is like a racehorse, you mean,” Prath said.
“Well, yeah, exactly, if you think about it. This thing is slower and stronger, it's built to take more abuse, and it has lower maintenance downtime. That means I can pack on more armor, take more punishment, haul more ammo, and spare parts are easy to get. Sgok takes care of me, and throws some spare parts my way, sometimes. Gaskets, power relays, adapters, stuff like that. Light Exo Limited Ordnance is a big pile of—um, it's for the birds, though. I hate it,” Jessica said.
“You aspire to higher status matches, one assumes?” Prath said.
“One assumes correctly, yeah. I have something in the works,” she said, a sly grin on her face.
“You mean the match that Mikralos is putting together. The vengeance bit against Masamune Kyuzo. 'The Desecrator,' I believe the networks call him,” Prath said, making a minor tweak to one of her mech's jet nozzles. Jessica looked up in alarm, her eyes wide.
“How... how did you know about that?” Jessica asked.
Prath finished the adjustment, put the tool away in the crash cart, and shut the drawer. He put both hands on top of the toolbox and sighed.
“Little human, what do you know of Solomon Kramer's legacy?” Prath asked. “I mean, your father’s real, enduring legacy, not just the pulp churned up by the network marketing departments to make beings watch old reruns?”
“He... Poppa was one of the first mech gladiators to live long enough to pay off the life-debt, and then he built—”
“Solomon beat the Gatekeepers at their own game, Jessica, here in their own little pocket dimension,” Prath said, “and he did it so well, they couldn't do a thing about it. Well, not in public, at least. Their Old Code forbids it, and they are so very conscious of maintaining appearances when it comes to their code. They never forgave him for that.”
“Prath, this is coming out of nowhere. I'm confused. What does that have to do with—”
“They had to destroy him, Jessica,” he said. “They had to make an example of your father. Of your brother Jered. Of your entire family, if they could. This is what they felt they had to do, to maintain their control of this place. This is what my years of watching, of listening, of putting the pieces together, led me to conclude. And now that you're fighting in the public eye, you're next,” Prath said.
He pointed down at her repair cart. “Your tools are a mess, by the way. Is this what I taught you?”
“No, I... wait,” she stammered, trying to take it all in. “What do you mean? You said you've been busy, that you lost contact with me. But you also said you’ve been keeping track of me. What gives?”
“I had to protect you, Jessica,” Prath said. “The best way to do that was to find out where the next attack was coming from, and to shift their attention from you to me. The DevroTech job was just an excuse to operate in plain sight, keeping them fixated on me while I kept my eyes on the arenas and you. I paid off Jev, too, to feed me audio and video data streams when you're in the bar. You drink like a fish, by the way.”
