by Jake Bible
“Jeezus! It’s like the transports are just toys to him. Even his mech moves with that cocky swagger,” the Rookie exclaimed.
“As it should,” Jay said. “A mech is not separate from its pilot, but an extension.”
The Rookie stared in awe as Masters worked.
***
“Hey, Rookie? You think that’s impressive? Watch this!” Masters called over the com. He swatted away two RPGs and lifted his foot over the closest mech. Without hesitation, he stomped down, his mech foot swallowed by the transport. He did the same to the second and last transport before it could get another shot off.
Masters shifted his mech’s weight, securing the transports tightly.
“I gotta dance!” Masters said in a sing-song voice.
And then, he danced.
“That’s fucked up…” the Rookie said, his eyes widening as he watched 50 tons of war machine break into a soft shoe routine.
***
“Ain’t I pretty? Who’s a pretty dancing mech?” Masters piloted his mech in a graceful pirouette. And stopped, his mech hands splayed and shaking. “Jazz hands, bitches!”
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me?” the Rookie said over the com.
“Harlow loves musicals. We’ve seen everything Jay has on vid. You should see the routine we put together,” Masters laughed, aiming his right 50mm at the transports. He fired off the gun, slicing the fronts of the transports off then shook them from his mech’s feet. “You see, kid, if you can dance in a mech, you can fight in a mech.”
***
“Um, Your Grace?” Deacon Montoya asked. “We’ve lost all four transport signals. It appears the mechs may have destroyed them.”
“That is unfortunate, Deacon,” Bishop Wyble said. He stared out the windshield as the mech base came into sight. “Oh, well. Hopefully the waste storm will take care of them for us. It’s in God’s hands now, Montoya.”
“Of course, sir,” Montoya responded. He checked his scanners. “It appears the mech base is empty, Your Eminence. I have zero life signs on my scanners. Power is up and communications are online. Shall I alert the others?”
“Yes, Deacon, please do.”
***
“Well, I hate to skip the encore, boys, but we have a waste storm to outrun,” Masters said over the com.
Jay secured the Rookie’s straps then strapped himself in and powered up his mech. “Well, from these readings it doesn’t look like we are going to outrun it, but we can’t stay here. This bluff isn’t near enough cover.”
“Where are we?’ the Rookie asked.
“The middle of Bumfuck,” Jay responded. He transferred data to his tablet and held it up so the Rookie could see.
“I know exactly where we are,” the Rookie responded, eyeing the tablet’s screen.
***
“Okay, I got the heading,” Masters said. “The sooner we get there the more time we’ll have to get secured. You sure there’s enough room for both mechs, kid?”
“Yeah,” the Rookie answered over the com. “Plenty of room. I’ve had to hole up there before.”
“Really? You know, you said you’d tell us who the fuck you are if we got out of Foggy Bottom.”
“Yes, I know,” the Rookie winced. “But, how about we worry about the waste storm first?”
“I swear, Rookie, if you or I die before I know your story, I’m gonna be fucking pissed.”
***
“We have entered the mech base’s staging area, Your Grace,” Montoya informed the Bishop.
Bishop Wyble glanced from the windshield to the vid screens and back out the windshield. “And how can you tell the difference, Deacon Montoya?” the Bishop asked. “It looks the same as all the rest of the wasteland.”
The Deacon pointed at his screen. “Those dots, Your Eminence. They are part of some type of warning system, but I’m unfamiliar with the tech. Must be custom.”
“Custom tech, you say? Well, it appears the mech personnel haven’t been fully open with the UDC,” Bishop Wyble chuckled.
***
The UDC and Rancher transports stopped in front of the mech base hangar, the tail end of the waste storm still blowing strongly.
“Well, Deacon Montoya, what are we waiting for?” the Bishop asked impatiently. “Ring the bell.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Montoya responded activating his com. “Tech crew go.”
A three man team dashed from a transport to the hangar doors. One man opened a small panel and began to hack the locking mechanism. Almost instantly the man was electrocuted, his body dancing and smoking as 100,000 volts fried him.
Bishop Wyble sighed. “I guess we will have to knock.
***
The lead Rancher transport, Bishop Wyble’s, targeted its missile launcher on the mech base’s hangar bay doors.
“Now, Deacon, just a light knock. No need to break the door down,” the Bishop ordered.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Deacon Montoya responded. “First missile away.”
They watched as the missile shot from the transport and impacted upon the door. Montoya checked his sensors since the smoke was still too thick for a visual. “Barely any damage, You Grace.”
“Hmmm… Well, then, kick it in! The Archbishop will be disappointed, but I’m sure its nothing we couldn’t fix later.”
“Certainly, Your Grace,” Montoya agreed.
***
“Holy shit!” Jethro yelled staring at his scanner. “Looks like the transports arrived!”
“Give me a visual,” Capreze commanded as he piloted the transport. Jethro tapped at his tablet and the image he was looking at was superimposed upon the windshield in front of Capreze. “Okay, what am I looking at?”
“Well, you are looking at what used to be our hangar bay doors,” Jethro responded. “I guess they gave up on the subtle approach. Probably after they found my little surprise.”
“Surprise?” Themopolous asked, glancing nervously out the windshield into the wasteland.
“100,000 volts of hot death,” Jethro laughed.
***
The three mechs stomped along, escorting the transport through the wasteland. Harlow to the left, Rachel to the right and Bisby bringing up the rear.
“How deep in do you think we’re going?” Harlow asked over her com.
“Not a clue,” Rachel responded, stretching in her cockpit. “Biz? You got any ideas?”
“Yes,” Bisby said. “And none of them are good.”
“Care to share with the rest of us?” Harlow asked.
“I’d hate to give you girls nightmares,” Bisby joked. Harlow stopped her mech and took a swing at Bisby’s. He easily ducked out of the way. “Hey! Watch it!”
***
“Pilot Harlow, any reason you are out of formation?” the Commander asked.
“Just swatting at flies, sir,” Harlow responded over the com.
“Well, I applaud your dedication to pest control, but your mech is better suited on my left flank.”
“Understood, sir.”
Capreze shook his head. “So, Jethro, you are positive the Ranchers nor the UDC will pick up on our surveillance?”
“98.7% sure, sir,” Jethro responded. “If Jay were here we’d have the other 1.3% covered, but I’m not quite up to speed right now.”
“Fair enough. Let me know when they are fully inside the base.”
“Will do.”
***
Bishop Wyble stepped from his transport and began barking orders. “No, you fools! Clear it THAT way! Imbeciles, that top piece is…wonderful, just wonderful! Now see what you’ve done?!? MONTOYA!”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the Deacon answered, directly behind the Bishop.
“Those two,” Bishop Wyble said, pointing to two Ranchers scurrying away from the hangar debris as their lack of attention caused a sudden collapse of pieces of door still attached to the base. “Make an example, please.”
Without a word, Montoya drew his sidearm and approached the two
men, firing point blank, splattering their brains against the base wall.
***
Themoplous leaned in close to Capreze. “Sir, I am worried about Jethro. He’s had three nose bleeds since we left. I need to run more tests, but…” She looked about the transport in dismay. “The facilities are lacking.”
Capreze furrowed his brow. “Do what you can, Doc. We aren’t stopping any time soon.”
“But, sir…”
“No ‘buts’. We’re looking at the destruction of civilization. Again. Possibly humanity. Are you saying one life is more important?”
“You know,” Jethro spoke up. “You guys have a really bad habit of talking about me like I can’t hear you. Knock it off, please.”
***
“Sir?” Harlow called over the com. “What’s the plan for a recharge?”
“After sundown, Pilot,” Capreze responded. “We need to put more distance between us and the base. I have no idea what their endgame is, but should it be pursuit we’ll need a better head start.”
“Copy that, Commander,” Harlow responded checking her time display. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled for a suitable campsite in a few hours.”
“Excellent. All pilots on board with that?” Capreze asked.
“Yep,” Bisby responded.
“Yes, sir,” Rachel answered.
“Good. In the meantime I’d suggest you do a full running diagnostic on your systems.”
***
“Your Grace? UDC troops report the base is empty,” Deacon Montoya said, approaching Bishop Wyble as he lounged in an ornate and well padded chair under an oversized umbrella. The Bishop lazily set his drink down on an equally ornate side table next to his chair.
“That is splendid, Deacon. Are you sure the troops are correct?”
Montoya looked at the platoon of UDC troopers and couldn’t help but shiver. “Yes, Your Grace. They may no longer be…as they were, but their training appears to be intact, if not heightened.”
“Very well then it is time for the Blessing.”
***
“Are we close, Rookie?” Masters asked over the com.
“Yeah. See those two mesas on the horizon?” the Rookie responded. “The cavern is just on the other side of the left mesa.”
“Gotcha. Shouldn’t take us more than… Hey Jay, are you reading what I’m reading?”
Jay glanced at his scanner. “Shit! How’d that guy sneak up on us? I’m losing my touch.”
“What? What is it?” the Rookie asked.
“Deader. Big fucker. Must have been using those hills as cover. Still don’t know why it didn’t set off the alarms though,” Jay responded activating the salvage mech’s weapons systems.
***
Masters checked and double checked his scanner readings. “Shit. That’s not a battle mech is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Jay responded over the com. “Looks like a Hill Stomper.”
“A what?” the Rookie asked.
“Didn’t you learn anything before signing up?” Masters mocked. “A fucking Hill Stomper. Construction mech. Quadruple the size of our mechs and built to punch holes through mountains and take a beating like nothing else.”
“They can handle up to 1000 tons of pressure before their hydraulics give out. The Earth itself can’t crush them,” Jay added.
“Oh, that’s just great,” the Rookie sighed. “Just great…”
***
“Oh Blessed Father! Cleanse this base of the heathen influence and poison,” Bishop Wyble intoned as he entered the mech hangar, incense in hand, robes adorning his shoulders. The Deacons flanked the Bishop, hands near their sidearms as the rest of the Ranchers followed behind, eyes to the heavens, hands clasped to each other, mutterings of ‘Amen’ and ‘Glory Be’ escaping their devout lips.
“Take the evil that permeates this facility and cast it out. Cast it far from here and let this base be filled with the Spirit! Let the vileness and wanton lust be forever purged from here!”
***
“Oh, you got to see this!” Jethro said. “Shooting the feed over to everyone.”
Capreze, Themopolous and the pilots all focused on the images Jethro shot them.
“What the fuck am I looking at, Jethro?” Bisby asked. “Is that guy wearing a dress?”
“Robes, Pilot,” Capreze corrected. “And that ‘guy’ is Bishop Wyble himself. And where Bishop Wyble is…”
“The Archbishop isn’t far behind,” Rachel finished for her father.
“What are they playing at?” Harlow asked. “Is there any sound with this?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Jethro responded tapping commands into his tablet. “There.”
“And as God has commanded, there shall…”
***
“…there shall be no other Faith than the True Faith. Let God’s children and Disciples, learn from their time here, this Purgatory on Earth. Let them all learn to fear God, to worship God, to be his servant and warrior for Eternity. In the name of the Father, the Son and the True Disciple, Amen,” Bishop Wyble finished.
“Amen,” the Ranchers echoed.
The Bishop turned to his fellow Ranchers. “Now, who shall be the sacrifice to complete the Blessing?” The Bishop looked amongst his people and smiled, pointing to a petite woman. “Sister Amanda shall have the honor of Sacrifice.”
***
“Where’s this feed coming from?” Bisby asked.
“I have Two powered down. Only audio/visual and basic sensors are operational,” Jethro answered. “Four is following us acting as a relay.”
“Good thinking,” Bisby said.
“Well, already lost two mini-mechs, so figured I’d get the most of what was left,” Jethro said, his jaw tightening in pain.
“Jethro? What is it?” Themopolous asked as she got up from her seat and rushed to the mechanic’s side.
“Nothing, Doc. Just a headache.”
Themopolous handed Jethro two pills. “Take these.” Jethro did so and smiled weakly.
“Um, guys? What’s that woman doing?” Rachel asked.
***
Sister Amanda removed her uniform and stepped naked before the Rancher congregation. “I am honored to be chosen as the Sacrifice for this Blessing,” she announced, bringing her arms above her head, fingers splayed wide. “I pray, Father, that you see fit to make me a True Disciple. But, if I am not worthy, do not let that be reason for withholding your Blessing!”
Amens rang out from the Ranchers and Bishop Wyble grinned widely as he stepped forward, handing Sister Amanda a long, ornate knife. “God has heard you, my child.”
Sister Amanda put the knife to her throat.
***
“Dear God,” Themopolous gasped as they all watched Sister Amanda bring the blade of the knife across her throat and collapse to the hangar floor while blood gushed from the slit.
“God has nothing to do with it, Doctor. Not where Ranchers are concerned,” Capreze growled. “They may play the part, but God doesn’t look down on those freaks with favor.”
“I wouldn’t have figured you a religious man, Commander,” Harlow said.
“I’m not, Pilot. But Faith and religion are two different things. As each of you have learned out here in the waste.”
“Amen to that,” Bisby chimed in.
***
The Bishop and Ranchers stared at the still form of Sister Amanda as dark blood continued to pool about her naked body. It took less than a minute before her eyes opened and what used to be Sister Amanda sprang into a crouch, a guttural growl coming from the open wound in her neck.
Bishop Wyble sighed, withdrawing a long rod, adorned with jewels, from beneath his robe. The Bishop flicked a switch and the rod hummed to life. He stepped forward and before the zombie Sister could pounce he jabbed her, sending 10,000 volts coursing through her undead body.
***
“So is the fucking thing following us or not?’ Masters asked.
“Can’t tell until it makes
a move,” Jay answered over the com.
“Yeah, well I’d prefer it didn’t make a move,” Masters said, watching his scanner closely. “I may be an amazing mech pilot, but I don’t know if I’m that good.”
“And modest, too,” the Rookie joked.
“Hey, Rookie, my sweet moves kept your ass alive,” Masters said.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I can ever get that image from my mind. Mechs shouldn’t dance, man, that’s just wrong.”
“So wrong, it’s right!” Masters laughed.
“No. Just wrong.”
***
Capreze watched the Bishop angrily.
“Put her with the rest of the Disciples,” Wyble said. Two Ranchers stepped forward and dragged the stunned zombie from the hangar. “And cleanse that.” The Bishop walked away from the pool of blood. Another Rancher stepped forward with a flame thrower and proceeded to burn the blood from the hangar floor.
Capreze shook his head.
“Are you okay, Commander?” Themopolous asked, no longer watching the vid feed.
“No, Doctor,” Capreze answered. “I’m not fine. I’m not fine with that hypocritical psycho spilling blood in my base while I have to tuck tail and run.”
***
“I’ve never heard of a Hill Stomper,” the Rookie said.
“Well before your time, kid,” Jay responded. “They’re what built most of the city/states and cleared a path of civilization through the wasteland. When the Reaper chip came online they only outfitted four of them for full cerebral piloting. Good thing, too.”
“I thought Stanislaw took out the last one years ago,” Masters joined in. “Why haven’t we seen this one until now?”
“Don’t know and don’t really care right now,” Jay answered. “Let’s just steer clear of the thing and get some cover. That storm is almost on us.”
***
The two mechs rounded the mesa and the Rookie pointed to a shadow in the cliff face. “Right there.”
“That?” Jay said. “Kid, we can’t fit two mechs in there.”
“Trust me, it looks smaller than it is. We can crawl them in. And it’s deep enough. Should keep the storm debris from doing any damage.”
“If you say so,” Jay responded doubtfully. “You get that Masters?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Masters answered over the com. “You two crawl in first. I’m staying out here until I know for sure the Stomper has passed by.”
