Powered (Mech Wars Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because we’re both doing this for the right reason. For our sisters.”

  “My sister’s gone already.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t do this for her.”

  “You mean, like avenge her?”

  “Sure.”

  “While you save yours.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “One to avenge, one to save. Kind of epic, when you think about it.”

  “It is.”

  Ash held out her hand. “For our sisters.”

  Jake gripped her forearm, and she gripped his. “For our sisters.”

  Chapter 23

  Do Not Flinch

  “We’re not moving fast enough,” Roach told the two hundred and sixty-nine remaining recruits.

  He’d let them rest for an hour after getting into their bunks. Jake had fallen directly asleep, exhausted from a day packed full of PT, only to be jolted awake by his fellows, who’d been warned that Roach would go harder on them the longer this took.

  After cutting their sleep woefully short, Roach had made them double-time across Valhalla, to the Epsilon Quadrant, which housed the Endless Beach—a vast ring of sand that circled a wave pool, whose behavior mimicked that of the ocean. Mist hung perpetually along its center, obscuring the opposite side and preserving the illusion that this was a real beach, and not a construct built by humans aboard a gigantic metal space station.

  By day, the Endless Beach was endlessly populated by the families of Darkstream’s hardworking executives. But now, it was empty. Closed to the public.

  Either Roach had connections, or he was violating station protocol. Neither would surprise Jake.

  “We need to move faster,” Roach said. “The Quatro are getting more aggressive. And none of you are close to ready.”

  Jake’s mouth moved faster than his thoughts, and he called out, “R&D hasn’t even developed a working mech yet.”

  “Who said that?”

  “I did, sir.” Jake’s emotions had caught up with him, and he was afraid, now. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t own up to his actions. He stepped to the front of the group.

  Roach approached until he towered over Jake, his muscles taut in the artificial sunlight. “Since when do you have access to information about R&D?”

  “It’s all over the station, sir. Rumors.”

  “Is that right? What else does rumor have to say?”

  Roach’s face was as hard and stern as it ever got, and it took everything Jake had not to quake in his boots. “Rumor says that they haven’t even figured out the control interface, and a guy died.”

  “Hmm.” Sweeping the other recruits with a glare, Roach said, “Did everyone hear what this cocky brat just said? Did you hear the hearsay he’s trying to pass along to his fellow recruits as indisputable fact?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” the recruits called in unison.

  Roach lowered his face closer to Jake’s. Then he screamed: “You just made this ten times worse on yourself and your fellow trainees, Recruit. Now, run. All of you, run! Run!”

  They ran, and so did Roach, right at the heels of the last trainee. He taunted them if they stumbled, and he especially made fun of the person in last, shaming them into running faster, until there was a new last place.

  Rinse, repeat, until gradually the entire group ran faster. And faster.

  “I haven’t even begun to break a sweat,” Roach boasted. “Have you? Tell me the truth, Recruits!”

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  “That doesn’t bode well for you, Recruits! Because the night has just begun, and you’re not going to stop until the first Darkstream exec comes to soak his fat heels. If you do stop, even for a second, you’re done. Washed out. If you make it till morning, you can stay.”

  Jake’s heart raced, faster than the running alone should have caused. He’s going to make us run the entire night, after doing PT the entire day? This was insanity. It was abuse.

  When Roach shouted, he was somehow able to project his voice enough for everyone to hear while he kept pace. He hadn’t even begun to breathe heavily.

  Of course, he hasn’t been going through PT hell all day.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Roach said. “You’re thinking this isn’t fair. You’ve been doing PT since morning, while I’m fresh as a daisy. Well guess what? My training in the UHF was tougher than this. You babies are coddled in this system. They say the Milky Way was the safe space, but not the part I came from. The way I see it, you babies have lived in a safe space your whole lives, and I’m the first one to rip you out of it and show you what life is really like. Move, Recruits!”

  When they completed their first lap, Roach made a pit stop at the case he’d carried with him from Omega Quadrant. He tore it open and produced what looked like a gun, though it wasn’t like any gun Jake had encountered before, and he knew guns pretty well.

  “Keep running, Recruits. Keep running, if you want to pilot mechs.” Roach sprinted to the front of the group and then he turned around, running backward, the gun’s stock cradled between his elbow and side, its long, thin barrel sticking straight up. “About now, you’re probably thinking about washing out. Maybe you’re wondering if any of you are going to make it through the night.”

  From near the front of the pack, Jake could see that, incredibly, Roach still hadn’t broken a sweat.

  “Let me tell you something,” the chief went on. “It’s very possible that none of you will make it to the morning. But if any of you do, it’ll mean I’ve successfully culled the weaklings from the group. And we need to do that, quickly. Eresos needs us.”

  Roach brought the gun up to his eye, sighting along the barrel—straight at Jake. “Do not flinch,” he yelled, and pulled the trigger.

  Something smacked into Jake’s cheek at high speed, splashing liquid across his face. Some of it got in his right eye, setting it on fire, and he stumbled, trying to wipe it out. It stung like hell.

  “Stop and you’re out, Price!” Roach called, sounding like he was enjoying himself a lot. “Stop, and you’re out of my program on the spot.”

  Somehow, Jake kept moving, though his eye continued to sting. He fingered his cheek, and could already feel a welt forming there.

  Think of Sue Anne, he told himself. You’re better than this, Jake. You’re going to beat this. You’re better than everyone here.

  “Paintballs,” Roach said. “Filled with good old-fashioned lemon juice. Who else wants some? No volunteers? How about you, Sweeney?”

  Roach sighted along the barrel once again. “Don’t flinch!”

  The paintball zipped toward Ash, who cried out, stumbling, just as Jake had.

  Come on, Ash. For your sister.

  And Ash managed to keep running, too.

  “Flinch, and you might lose an eye, people. My aim is good. If you lose an eye, it’s no one’s fault but your own. Feel free to wash out at any time.”

  Roach took aim at another recruit and fired. Another.

  By morning, of the two hundred and sixty-nine recruits who’d come to the beach, only fifty remained.

  Their faces were covered with black and purple welts, and their heads all drooped toward the ground as they ran, along with their arms. Everyone’s skin was ashen, and their clothes were soaked through.

  But Jake and Ash were among them. When the first patron walked onto the beach, and it was finally over, they limped toward each other, embracing, tears and snot and blood streaming down their faces.

  Jake wasn’t even sure this was worth it, anymore. He was unconvinced that anything was worth this.

  The thought of Sue Anne’s gaunt face was the only thing that had kept his legs moving.

  Chapter 24

  Dangerous for Basically Everyone

  Gabe sat with his right foot atop his left knee, hands resting on his thighs. He peered across a mammoth, mahogany desk at Captain Bob Bronson.

  He knew what this was about, but it wasn’t
Bronson’s style to go straight to the heart of any matter. Instead, he had to bring up other bits and pieces first, after which he would cut suddenly to the chase, as though it was a surprise to anyone.

  Maybe that sort of tactic did surprise others. But Gabe had been serving under Bronson for too long to be caught off-guard.

  “R&D have put together some pretty compelling composites from the brain scans they pulled from Zimmerman’s implant,” Bronson said. “It was intact, you know. They found it on the floor beneath the mech.”

  “Unlike Zimmerman.”

  “Yes.” Bronson sniffed. “Anyway, it seems the mech was taking commands directly from his mind, via the implant itself. He willed it to move its leg forward, and it did. Somehow, it managed to access the data from the implant and take its directives from it.”

  “Did Zimmerman will it to fire on us, then? Did he will it to kill him?”

  “Possibly. Probably not intentionally, but it is possible. The prevailing theory is that his death was caused by a simple break in concentration. A stray thought, which the mech interpreted in a way that was…counterproductive.”

  Gabe barked a bitter laugh. “You have quite a way of putting things.”

  “Mm.” Bronson ran a hand over his bare scalp. “It could mean that piloting the alien mech is very dangerous for anyone unable to maintain perfect focus at all times. In other words, it’s dangerous for basically everyone.”

  “Yeah.” Gabe had already put all of this together for himself, and he even had some theories of his own, which he’d been working over in his mind. But he let Bronson ramble, as he knew the man needed to.

  “Our geeks also put together aural data from Zimmerman’s scans, and something emerged that was somewhat unsettling. Spoken words. English.”

  “English?”

  “Yes. It’s possible the mech is advanced enough to have learned basic English just by analyzing the data from Zimmerman’s brain. Or maybe it’s been listening to us all along, somehow.”

  “What did it say?”

  “A question: ‘Is our union that which nullifies?’ Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Not much. It’s creepy.”

  “Yes. That it is. I wanted to speak to you about something else, as well, Roach.”

  Ah, yes. Here it is.

  Gabe uncrossed his legs, switching them so that his left foot rested on his right knee. He wanted to get comfortable for this.

  “I have no choice but to reprimand you for being as hard as you have on the recruits,” Bronson said. “Dropping from two hundred and sixty-nine to fifty in a single day, it’s simply—”

  “Night.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They dropped from two hundred and sixty-nine to fifty during the night.”

  “Right. Listen, Roach, the higher-ups are worried you’re going to scare away potential future recruits by being so hard on your current ones, especially Price and Sweeney. If we become the company that crucifies anyone who tries to work for it, we’re going to have a real problem.”

  Even though he’d seen this coming, Gabe felt no less angry about it. The fact that Bronson was mentioning Ash Sweeney didn’t help.

  Jess’s sister. Gabe knew he was extra hard on her, partly because she reminded him of Jess. Part of him he wanted her to wash out, so that the Quatro couldn’t do to Ash what they’d done to her sister.

  Another part of him knew that Ash was too good, too determined, to wash out, and that if she managed to endure the extra pressure he piled on her, she would become an even better soldier as a result. She had no idea about Gabe’s connection with Jess, of course, and he intended to keep it that way.

  To Bronson, he said, “What are you worried about, sir? It’s not like there’s another private military firm around to apply to. What I’m subjecting these recruits to is no worse than the training I went through to join UHF special forces. In some ways, it’s easier. These kids have no real military experience, unlike nearly all the Darkstream soldiers who were with the company when we first came to this system. And we’re expecting them to pilot mechs in combat. It’s time for a reality check, sir. We need to make sure they’re ready, and this is the only way we can come close.”

  Bronson spread his hands, adopting a faux helpless expression. “I’m just passing on to you what the higher-ups are telling me. They say the military landscape has changed since we left the Milky Way. System security means a healthy private sector, and that means Darkstream must follow its profit imperative. Which means actually retaining its employees.”

  “A healthy private sector also usually means competition, and Darkstream doesn’t have any of that.” Gabe stood, staring down at Bronson. “If you want to retain all the recruits that wash out, you can feel free to stick them into whatever flabby, coddled unit you can find for them. But if I’m taking these kids into battle driving mechs, then I’m going to do my best to drive them into the ground first. If there any are of them left standing once I’m finished, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll be worthy of the responsibility involved in piloting a four-ton war machine the likes of which humanity has only dreamed of till now. Are we finished, sir?”

  Bronson sighed. “Well, no one can say I didn’t try.” He gestured with the back of his hand toward the hatch. “Dismissed.”

  Storming out, Roach slapped the panel to close the hatch behind him. Bronson had a way of getting under his skin every time, no matter how prepared Roach thought he was for the man’s tactics. He was sure the captain made a game of it. He’s sick.

  On his way out of Alpha Quadrant, which was where Bronson’s office was located, Gabe passed Darkstream R&D. He paused in the middle of an intersection of corridors, suddenly thoughtful.

  To keep going would mean heading back to his quarters in Omega Quadrant. To turn left, through several sets of double doors, and increasing security measures…

  “Screw it,” he spat, and pushed through the doors. The next set required he demonstrate his V-level security clearance, and so did the next, and the next.

  He wasn’t sure whether his clearance would get him all the way to the titanium-reinforced room that held the alien mech, but he was pleasantly surprised when it did.

  Time to test my theory.

  The mech still stood inert in the center of the chamber, Zimmerman’s dried blood caked onto its surface and the floor. Taking a deep breath, Roach walked up to it and put his palm on the thing’s calf.

  The mech opened for him, but before climbing inside it, Gabe popped a fast-acting, lucid-inducing sedative. After waiting a few seconds, he pulled himself into the mech’s guts.

  He cleared his mind, in one of the many exercises frequent lucid users used to clear their minds of thought before sleep. Before long, he was inside the dream.

  It took him a moment to realize he was standing in the titanium-reinforced chamber. But something was different. In the dream, he was taller than usual; a lot taller.

  Gabe dreamed that he lifted his arms toward the observation window, and as they rose, those arms became twin cannons.

  The cannons fired, and from the readouts that overlaid his vision, Gabe could see that the rounds traveled faster than any ammunition humans had ever designed. Within seconds, the unbreakable glass shattered into a million pieces.

  Gabe dreamed that the cannons became long, scaled bayonets, and then he dreamed that he plunged the blades into the reinforced wall, gradually shredding it with titanic strength.

  Gabe dreamed he was the mech.

  Chapter 25

  War Never Asks

  After the excitement of the beetle chase, the tedium and strain of the daily training routine was punctuated.

  During the day, while Andy drove, Tessa either taught Lisa the principles of combat and warfare or made her do what exercises she could within the cramped confines of the beetle, typically wedged between the two back seats.

  At night, while Andy inflated their habitat, they worked on Lisa’s shooting, alternating betwe
en her own SL-17 and Tessa’s pistols to fire at virtual targets painted on whatever surfaces were handy.

  Once they were inside the habitat, Tessa subjected her to yet more PT. Her only rest came in the very early morning. “I’m not a morning person,” Tessa said simply, and so during those times Lisa was left to stare out the window as the barren wilderness rolled by.

  Even more than she felt tired, she felt lonely. As her mentor, Tessa remained cold and distant, with none of the friendliness she’d shown over their years of drinking together in Habitat 2.

  Andy seemed to be making a point to ignore her, probably because she ignored him. The reason didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

  Sometimes, Lisa even wondered whether Andy and Tessa might be flirting with each other. It seemed ridiculous, given the age gap, but there it was.

  Maybe he’s trying to make me jealous.

  One night, they camped in sight of the space elevator, though Andy announced he intended to give it a wide berth. “It has nothing for us, and anyway, we don’t know how far Daybreak’s reach extends. Their takeover may have involved units coordinating in multiple locations.”

  That gave Lisa pause. “Do you think they might have taken over Habitat 1, too?”

  Andy shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

  That wasn’t comforting, and it threw off Lisa’s aim that evening. She couldn’t keep her mind off the possibility that they could be driving toward the same horrific mess they’d left behind.

  “Get your head in the game, girl,” Tessa said.

  Lisa lowered her gun, glancing back at the older woman in her pressure suit. “I’m not in the mood for this right now. Ma’am.”

  “So? War never asks whether you’re in the mood. It comes either way, ready or not. It’s better to be ready.”

  “War isn’t out here. Nothing’s out here.”

  “Would you like to wash out, then?”

  “Huh?”

  “Wash out. Quit. It’s what quitters do.”

  Lisa gestured at the surrounding blue landscape. “This isn’t some UHF boot camp. It’s the middle of nowhere.”