Powered (Mech Wars Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  “You’re right. And I’m not really your superior officer. I only have the power you choose to give me. You’re welcome to quit anytime.”

  “I don’t want to quit. I just want to knock off for the night.”

  “You skip tonight, you quit. This is about making you battle-ready, girl. Battle doesn’t give nights off. If you want me to continue training you, keep shooting. Or you can go inside that habitat and put your feet up. Completely up to you.”

  With a sigh that she chose not to broadcast over the two-way channel, Lisa turned back to the target and raised the rifle once again.

  In the distance, Darkstream’s space elevator stretched from horizon to sky, becoming hair-thin before disappearing out of view.

  Chapter 26

  Quatro

  The news that Gabriel Roach had solved the mystery of the alien mech buoyed the remaining recruits.

  It also made them fear him, though it was difficult for the terror Roach inspired in them to grow much greater.

  For Jake, it made him respect Roach a bit more. The rumor mill, which was always churning on Valhalla Station, suggested that Roach had accessed the mech without direct authorization. Probably because Darkstream would have considered his attempt an unacceptable risk, given his importance to the mech program.

  So Roach had gone ahead and done it without asking, risking his life for the advancement of humanity and, more immediately, of Darkstream.

  The lesson seemed clear: the only time being insubordinate turned out positively was when the disobedient soldier achieved great results through his insubordination. Then, his superiors forgave him, and sometimes even lavished him with praise.

  Jake would keep that in mind. Especially since he considered himself smarter, faster, and more skilled than many of the Darkstream officers he’d met. Sometimes he wondered whether his superiors weren’t outright incompetent. The fact that the mechs were only now nearing readiness was ridiculous.

  There are lives depending on this!

  That said, the news that those who made it through Roach’s training would pilot their mechs using lucid—using dreams, essentially—did make Jake even more excited. The mechanism would allow the pilot to become the mech, in a very real sense, which Roach said would give them a proper appreciation for the danger involved and also underscore the need for self-preservation. It would dispense with the illusion that the pilot was somehow apart from the fighting because of the awesome machinery at his command. Instead, the level of immersion would be equal to that of a regular soldier in battle.

  The training remained as harrowing as always, especially now that they were down to only fifty recruits. Days off were a thing of the past, and in the haze of PT and study and more PT and eating and PT and sleep, two words came to be repeated over and over again, in hushed, fearful tones: Final Evaluation.

  It was coming, said the rumor mill, which Jake had now realized was his most reliable source of information on Valhalla. Roach liked to keep them in the dark about most things.

  He did tell them three things:

  First, R&D had eight mechs that would be outfitted with the interface they’d developed after Roach’s breakthrough. Twenty-four other mechs were in various stages of construction and development, but they wouldn’t be finished within a meaningful timeframe to fight the Quatro. So Roach had to cull forty-three more of the recruits, since he would pilot one of the eight mechs himself.

  Second, the final eight to be cut would be in line to pilot the next batch of mechs, and they’d also act as backup pilots should anything happen to the first eight.

  Third, graduates from Roach’s training program would belong to a brand new special forces division, the name of which was yet to be determined. The mechs themselves would be called MIMAS, after a giant from Greek mythology.

  Of course, they’d learned a few days ago that all fifty of them would have jobs with Darkstream’s security forces if they wanted them. Should they fail to make it as mech pilots, they’d be assigned to units based on their individual skill sets.

  Which was great, but Jake didn’t think it actually comforted anyone. They all wanted to pilot mechs, and they wanted it badly.

  If they hadn’t, they would never have put up with Roach’s unending abuse. Achieving anything less would leave a bitter taste.

  Still, when the board authorized all fifty of them to receive implants, on the understanding that they’d work at least a five-year contract with the company, everyone accepted the terms.

  Partly because undergoing the procedure to have the implants surgically installed inside their skulls was the closest they’d come to a day off in over a month.

  The night after receiving his implant, Jake decided not to go lucid. The implant didn’t actually confer an improved lucid experience over the headgear—the main benefits included not having to wear v-lenses and make those stupid gestures all the time.

  Besides, he wanted to dream natural dreams, tonight. About piloting a MIMAS mech into battle.

  The idea didn’t occur to him that, this very night, his childhood dream might get snatched away from him right before he achieved it.

  “Code Scarlet,” a panicked voice yelled over the intercom. “Valhalla Station is under attack. Code Scarlet.”

  Jake bolted out of bed, his heart thumping in his chest as he fumbled at the drawer underneath his bed for his jumpsuit.

  In the time it took him to get dressed, two other trainees bumped into him, the second one almost knocking him back into bed. The bunkroom was chaos.

  “Under attack by who?” he heard someone mutter.

  But Jake had only one thought running through his head, and he doubted he was alone in that.

  It was the same thing feared on some level by every inhabitant of the Steele System: the Ixa. Having finished with the rest of humanity, they’d finally found them, and now they’d come to finish the job.

  Sure enough, the word “Ixa” was soon getting repeated over and over, all through the room.

  “What do we do?”

  “Should we find the chief?”

  Cursing, Jake walked to the front of the room, stopping near the door. He placed two fingers over the light controls and tapped them rapidly, flickering the lights off and on. Then he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, loud and shrill.

  Everyone fell silent, turning toward him.

  “Shut up,” Jake said. “All of you. Obviously, there’s no protocol for what we’re supposed to do when the station’s attacked, because no one expected that to happen. But if Valhalla falls, it’s not going to be because the recruits in line to become Darkstream Special Ops cowered in their bunks like frightened little snowflakes. All right? We don’t need Chief Roach to tell us what to do, because we know what to do. We’re going to double-time it to the armory, arm ourselves, and then we’re going to fight. I want everyone out in the corridor within two minutes. Move!”

  Shaking his head, he made his way into the corridor himself, where Ash soon joined him.

  “Good speech,” she said. “Didn’t know you were into making those.”

  “I’m not. But I like getting blown apart while Roach’s finest students play guessing games even less.”

  “Right. Still, though. That was at least triple the amount of words I’ve ever heard you string together.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  Soon, the fifty recruits were on their way to the armory, where they began to equip themselves.

  “Don’t be shy,” Jake said. “Take what you can reasonably carry. We know how to use everything in here—Roach saw to that, if our lucid gaming hadn’t already. We have to assume that whoever’s attacking is looking to take over the station, not destroy it. Otherwise, we probably wouldn’t be alive right now. If they’re looking to occupy it, they probably don’t want to damage it. That means they almost certainly came in through one of the four flight decks.”

  He divided the recruits into four squads—one to search each quadrant. The mo
ment one squad spotted something, they’d fall back, using their implants to alert the others and broadcast footage of what they were dealing with. Then, they’d confront the enemy as a single, unified platoon.

  As it happened, splitting up wasn’t necessary. When they left Omega Quadrant, they found the station’s Core had plunged into total chaos.

  Right away, Jake spotted two shops on fire, and a nearby green space was littered with the bodies of civilians.

  “Omega Squad, form up and follow behind me, squad file formation,” he hollered. “Ash, you take Alpha Squad and check those shops for survivors. “Kincaid and Beth, take your squads in opposite directions and patrol likely avenues of attack. Let me know right away if you encounter anything.”

  With Omega Squad at his back, Jake trotted over to the green space to investigate the bodies there. He found their clothes and skin rent with deep gouges and massive bite marks. One man lay crumpled at the base of a tree, his skull caved in.

  “Quatro,” Jake muttered. “Quatro did this.”

  “How?” asked another recruit, named Marco. “How could they possibly be here? Could they have taken over the space elevator?”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Not sure how in hell they would have managed that, but now isn’t the time to puzzle over it. We need to find and stop them before they hurt more people.”

  “Quatro in the Core!” It was Kincaid’s voice, coming in over Jake’s implant. “Jake, there are five Quatro here outside a clothes store. They’ve smashed out the windows and they’re trying to get at the people inside!”

  “Kincaid, do they see you?”

  “No! My squad’s crouched behind a low café wall.”

  “Good. Ash, you hearing this?”

  “I’m hearing it.”

  “Beth’s squad is too out-of-position to engage in time,” Jake said, studying the real-time minimap his implant had superimposed near the top-left of his field of vision. “But if we can make our way to the edge of the green space we’re in, and you set up your squad behind the bank…Kincaid, you start shooting, then we flank them. Hopefully we can put them down before they reach you.”

  “Yeah, hopefully, eh?” A note of sarcasm had entered the other recruit’s voice.

  “Listen, I’ve never fought Quatro before, but it’s just as possible they’ll run toward my squad once we start firing. We’re all in danger here, buddy. That’s what battle means.”

  “Sorry, Jake. I’m just feeling a little tense.”

  “We all are. But there’s no more time for chitchat. Move, everyone! And don’t let your situational awareness falter for a second!”

  Omega Squad trotted through the trees as quickly and quietly as they could. Before long, Jake could hear the screams of those trapped inside the shop, and soon after that, he spotted the Quatro who were menacing it.

  Subvocalizing to his squad, he directed them to find cover wherever they could. For his part, he nestled his body between two bushes, peering at the giant, purple aliens between a screen of branches, with only his assault rifle’s muzzle sticking out.

  “All right, Kincaid. Hit them.”

  No answer.

  “Kincaid?”

  Incredible. He couldn’t wait any longer. Cursing under his breath, Jake leapt to his feet, tearing a grenade from his belt and lobbing it as hard as he could toward the Quatro.

  “Take cover!” he yelled to those inside the shop. “Get deeper inside! Grenade!”

  The Quatro turned toward the source of the yelling. Then they noticed the grenade, and they started to run. Toward Jake.

  “Ash, hit them. Hit them!”

  Unlike Kincaid, Ash obliged immediately. Her squad emerged from behind the bank where they’d concealed themselves, crossing the cobbled terrace in lockstep and firing on the Quatro hurtling toward Omega Squad.

  The grenade blew, blowing the rear legs clean off one Quatro while the shockwave knocked down the next-closest. Jake and his squad opened fire on the leading three, who weaved and crouched as they ran, to make themselves harder to hit.

  The recruits were all decent shots—if they hadn’t been, they wouldn’t be here. Several bullets hit home. But only one of the Quatro went down, with the front one limping and the third seemingly unaffected.

  Jake turned to Marco, who carried a rocket launcher. “Fire that thing and retreat back into the trees. Everyone else, follow me!”

  They did, and as they withdrew into the green space, Jake directed them to various hiding spots.

  “Climb the trees if you can. Fire on that Quatro from above!”

  Soon, seven of his twelve squad members were sitting on branches, and those who weren’t lingered near the periphery of the green space, ready to run if a Quatro took interest in them.

  Marco appeared through the trees.

  “How’d it go?” Jake subvocalized.

  “Took out one,” Marco said. “The one that was limping. But that other Quatro’s a beast.”

  “No kidding. Come with me.”

  “What’s the plan? What are we doing?”

  “We’re being bait.”

  They ran back toward the area where they’d first entered the green space. Behind them, Jake could hear the remaining Quatro crashing through the trees.

  “Hold your fire,” Jake told the rest of Omega Squad. “Wait till my mark.”

  The Quatro appeared through the foliage, pausing to sniff the air. Jake nodded at Marco, and they both raised their guns to fire on the alien.

  That got its attention. It charged toward them, emitting loud huffing noises.

  “Mark!” Jake said.

  From various treetops and hiding places, Omega squad fired on the Quatro from multiple angles. But that didn’t slow its charge.

  Jake gave thanks for all that practice running backwards as he and Marco jogged in reverse, unloading clip after clip into the alien’s muscular hide.

  At last, the Quatro crashed to the ground before them, at a distance of just a few feet.

  Jake and Marco exchanged twin looks of relief. Then, Jake started subvocalizing to the entire platoon: “Good work, Omega and Alpha squads. Kincaid, where the hell were you?”

  “We, uh…we decided we were too exposed. Sorry, Jake. It didn’t seem fair.”

  “I almost died. Is that fair?”

  “I don’t know. Listen, I had to look out for my squad.”

  Unbelievable. “Kincaid, you do what you want, okay? Go back and crawl into your bunk, if you like. The rest of us will go save Valhalla from the Quatro. You and your squad aren’t invited. We clearly can’t trust you to have our backs.”

  “Jake—”

  “That’s final, Kincaid. You’re a liability. Do not follow us.”

  “Look out, Jake!” It was Ash. “Behind you!”

  Jake turned to find a Quatro running at him and Marco. The beast must have come from behind the lucid arcade nearby.

  He shoved Marco back toward the trees of the green space and turned to face the charging alien.

  “Run!” he yelled to his fellow recruit as he switched his assault rifle to full-auto and opened fire.

  Other Omega Squad members moved to support him, but it was far from enough. Jake jogged backward, continuing to fire, but the Quatro closed the distance rapidly.

  Suddenly, it was on top of him, massive claws tearing open the front of his jumpsuit, gaping fangs descending to sink into his neck.

  He woke in his bunk, staring with wide eyes at the gunmetal ceiling.

  What the hell?

  Then he noticed Chief Roach standing nearby, hands folded behind his back.

  “Congratulations,” Roach said. “You were the first to die.”

  Jake’s innards went icy, and for a moment he felt even more afraid than he had with a Quatro about to run him down.

  “That was the Final Evaluation, wasn’t it? Does dying mean I wash out?”

  “No one washes out anymore. You’ll all get jobs with Darkstream Security.”r />
  “Sir, with all due respect, you know what I mean. Did I wash out? Did I fail the test to become a mech pilot?”

  Roach frowned. “It’s not a simple matter of survival. That’s part of the evaluation, but death doesn’t necessarily disqualify you. It’s also about keeping a cool head. Demonstrating teamwork. Demonstrating resourcefulness, leadership, and courage, not to mention tactical competence and facility with firearms.”

  “Did I make the cut, sir? Please. Just tell me.”

  “I can’t tell you just yet, Price. Not for certain.” Roach walked closer to Jake’s bunk, where Jake sat with his arms propping him up, heart still racing. “I can say, however, that without your intervention at the start of the sim, everyone might have washed out. The confusion and ineptness your fellow recruits displayed then was frankly depressing, but you saved them from themselves. You rallied them, organized them, gave them a purpose. And then you sacrificed yourself for your fellow soldier.” Roach sniffed. “For you not to make the cut, seven other recruits will have to impress me as much as you just did. I highly doubt that will happen. So I can say, somewhat provisionally: welcome to the team.”

  Drawing a relieved breath, Jake nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Just don’t whine about it if the others surprise me and you don’t make the cut, all right?”

  Roach grinned, turned around, and paced past the sleeping recruits, who were still deep in the throes of their lucid nightmare.

  Chapter 27

  No Warning

  This time, those hunting them gave no warning.

  Lisa jolted awake to the sound of gunfire, followed by a sharp hissing sound. “Andy,” she subvocalized. “Andy. Come in.”

  “I’m here,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Suit up, Lisa, as fast as you can. I’ll contact Tessa.”

  “No, I’ll get Tessa. I spent my childhood in the Belt—I’m used to putting on pressure suits quickly. Focus on getting yours on.”

  “Okay.”

  “Move fast, Andy.”

  Positioning her suit so she could slip into it quickly, Lisa was about to try subvocalizing to Tessa when she contacted Lisa herself, just as more shots went off, followed by more hissing.