Powered (Mech Wars Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  Double-checking her pressure suit, she made her way to the vehicle’s rear, where a sliver of waning sunlight had already appeared.

  She’d tried to seem nonchalant to Andy, but she’d used her joking to cover up how terrified she felt. Her stomach was performing flip-flops as she grasped the handholds halfway up the beetle’s hatch and hoisted herself up.

  Head emerging, she swallowed hard as she eyed the terrain, which suddenly seemed pretty far below.

  What if I screw up the landing? What if my suit gets compromised?

  But she couldn’t wait any longer. If she did, it wouldn’t just be her suit that got compromised.

  Pulling herself up the rest of the way, she balanced on the lip of the beetle’s hatch before leaping sideways, plummeting two meters before tucking into a roll and coming up unscathed, other than an aching shoulder—the one that had borne the brunt of the fall, since she’d had to lean that way to prevent the sniper rifle strapped to her back from digging into the ground and botching the maneuver. Still, the forward momentum had spared her any serious injury.

  No time to stand around congratulating myself.

  She sprinted toward the nearest hills under the cover of what was now total darkness, to find a suitable vantage point as fast as she could.

  The Quatro were distributed all along the hills on both sides of the valley, though Lisa didn’t encounter a single one as she slipped out of sight of the approaching enemy.

  She swept the terrain with her gaze, spotting at least three places that offered good cover.

  None of them held the hulking aliens.

  Maybe those places don’t offer quite enough cover for a giant quadruped.

  That was possible. But the fact that she couldn’t see any of her allies only heightened her tension, making the base of her throat clench, as it usually did when she felt extremely stressed.

  Of course, Tessa had stressed her out plenty of times—during PT in the cramped beetle, during target practice, and especially inside the panicked lucid sims she was so good at concocting.

  This is just like that. I didn’t let Tessa get the best of me. And I won’t let Quentin Cooper, either.

  Instead, she ran for the cover closest to the approaching enemy, unlimbering her sniper rifle from where it was slung across her back—they’d recovered it from one of the thugs she’d killed in the firefight out in the middle of Alex’s nowhere.

  She also had her SL-17, though she hoped to prevent the enemy from getting close enough to make her use that.

  Carefully raising her head just enough to see the approaching soldiers, as well as the modified beetle they surrounded, Lisa settled the rifle directly on the rock, peering into the scope and covering one of the lead soldiers with her crosshairs.

  The enemy was nearing the location that she, Tessa, and Rug had identified as the optimal spot to engage them.

  Lisa’s first shot would serve as the signal to the others to commence firing. But if the Quatro had truly abandoned her…

  If that had happened, Lisa would surely die.

  But she had to trust someone, and she knew she didn’t trust Darkstream quite as much as she once had. She loved her job, and she loved the work the company did, but she’d truly expected them to help the people of Habitat 2. Instead, they’d done nothing. So far, at least.

  And she knew if she let fear prevent her from firing, or even just from firing on time, this battle would not end well.

  I need to trust someone. Don’t I?

  She exhaled steadily, slowly squeezing the trigger, just as Tessa had taught her.

  Her bullet took the soldier in the neck, and he dropped like a sack of rocks. That caused the other soldiers to tense up, peering around wildly.

  Some of them drew closer to the beetle, but they didn’t seem to know which direction the shot had come from, so they couldn’t figure out which side of the beetle offered actual cover.

  As Lisa smoothly switched targets and fired again, the enemy began to figure out where the preparation fire was coming from.

  Where are the Quatro?

  The answer to that question came as quickly as she asked it. Crackling beams of energy lanced out from multiple directions, lighting up the darkness all along the hills. Five soldiers went down in quick succession, their pressure suits charred where they were struck. With any luck, the suits were also compromised.

  Energy weapons. So that’s what those strange guns were.

  She was relieved that the Quatro had begun to engage, and also pleased by the disorienting effect it was having on Cooper’s fighters, who milled around the beetle, firing wildly into the hills at random.

  Her relief was short-lived, however, as the enemy beetle’s main gun turned toward her.

  They figured out my location, she realized, just as the beetle began to fire.

  Chapter 52

  Beating Heart

  Jake pounded through the city streets, frantically searching for Quatro to kill. He’d just finished dealing with a group of five of them, but it had taken way too long, and he’d narrowly dodged a direct hit from a rocket in the process. Even though the MIMAS mech had withstood a close-proximity grenade blast just fine, he still wasn’t eager to find out whether it could endure quite the level of punishment a rocket would provide.

  I can’t believe this. They’re inside Plenitos…

  The city was the de facto capital of the Steele System. Sure, maybe an argument could be made for Valhalla claiming that title, but no one outside the space station was likely to accept that.

  No, Plenitos was the place that had the most ordinary people, living together, working together—and now, dying together.

  As Jake hunted through the city streets, he encountered an alarming number of human corpses. Most of them weren’t soldiers, either. They were just normal people who’d been caught outdoors when the Quatro breached the walls. Many of them wore clothes that were little more than rags.

  If Plenitos falls, we lose Eresos.

  Jake didn’t know that for sure, but it made a lot of sense. Sure, Ingress had the space elevator, but this was the capital. Plenitos was the beating heart of the human presence on the planet.

  “Help us!” a voice cried out, echoing between the buildings. “Someone, please!”

  He had difficulty discerning the source of the plea, but his implant dutifully assisted, indicating the direction by assigning a green haze to a nearby alley mouth while washing the rest of the world in blue.

  Jake didn’t wait. He pounded toward the alley, turning the corner to find two Quatro trying to get at four survivors halfway up a fire escape: a family of four, with two small children huddled against their parents in fear.

  The fourth flight of stairs had been blown apart, probably by a Quatro rocket, and the pair of aliens were trying their best to access the family, with one of them leaping and snapping with its jaws while the other attempted to squeeze between the narrow railings.

  Both had guns strapped to their backs, but for some reason they weren’t firing. Probably, they were out of ammo.

  Jake didn’t waste time trying to figure that out. Wary of damaging the fire escape further, he decided to forego his artillery in favor of bayonets, which he extended fully, locking them in place as he sprinted toward the Quatro.

  He screamed as he ran, which served to divert the aliens’ focus onto him. The one that had been attempting to jump high enough to catch one of the humans in its jaws now turned to face Jake, squaring its shoulders.

  Jake crashed into the beast, sending it back into the fire escape, which groaned worryingly.

  So much for not endangering it. He still wasn’t as used to the mech as he would have liked. Nor was he used to its power.

  Grabbing the Quatro by one of its forelegs, he swung it around, tossing it down the alley and forcing it to scrabble for purchase on the cobble before charging at Jake again.

  He moved to meet its charge, but the other alien had extricated itself from the fire escape, p
ouncing on him from behind. For a moment, he was sandwiched between the snarling creatures.

  His blade found the first Quatro’s leg, quickly cutting to the bone. It yelped, backing off enough for Jake to whip around and hack at the other.

  The alien dodged the first blow, but Jake pivoted to plunge his bayonet deep into his adversary’s shoulder, following it with the other blade, which he buried in the Quatro’s head.

  Wrenching both weapons from his defeated foe, he turned to find the other Quatro had left the alley, leaving a trail of blood behind.

  Above, the adults studied him warily, while their children buried their faces in the folds of their clothes and refused to look at Jake’s mech.

  “Come with me,” Jake said, as gently as he could. “I’ll see you to safety.” They hesitated, and he added: “Come on, now. We don’t have much time.”

  Finally, they listened, the dark-haired mother and father carefully descending the stairs to join Jake on the ground. “Thank you,” the woman said. From their parents’ arms, the children still wouldn’t look.

  Before the battle, Roach, Black, and Clifford had developed a plan for safeguarding Plenitos’ citizens, which had been based on a modified version of a scheme the council had already had. It involved shepherding everyone inside nuclear-hardened shelters, where they would hide until the Quatro were rooted out.

  But no one had actually expected the aliens to breach the city walls, least of all its citizens, who had always felt more or less invincible inside Plenitos.

  Not anymore.

  And that wasn’t all. The city also had an ample helping of homeless people, be they mentally ill, disabled, or just elderly and alone. It was highly likely that many of them hadn’t even been aware of the attack until the Quatro were already in the streets. They were Plenitos’ abandoned people, and now they paid the most dearly for the failings of the city’s so-called defenders.

  The city council had certainly been well aware of the Quatro threat. Forty minutes before, Jake had spotted them leaving in an emergency evacuation rocket, bound for Valhalla, where they would no doubt wait in comfort until this was all over, one way or another.

  The family he’d saved didn’t seem poor—just unlucky.

  They could have been unluckier.

  Jake had memorized the locations of the city’s ten shelters, and as he led them to the nearest one, they didn’t encounter any more Quatro.

  “Thank you,” the mother repeated, just before they entered the safety of the shelter. The father just stared at him, hollow-eyed, and the children continued to cower.

  “Make sure those doors are secure when I leave,” Jake said, turning to sprint through the streets in search of his next target.

  Or, more likely, another family to save.

  “Price,” Roach said to him inside the dream, and Jake could tell it was a reconstruction of his voice, derived from a subvocalization.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re out of position. There’s a host of Quatro in the northwest quadrant. I need your help taking them out.”

  Roach seemed to have recovered from the trance Jake had found him lost in, outside Plenitos. Around twenty minutes ago, Jake had glimpsed the chief across one of the city’s squares, engaging a group of six Quatro with a savagery Jake hadn’t witnessed from his commanding officer before.

  “Sir,” Jake said, “there are people still outside the shelters. Families. I just helped a family of four to safety, and I was about to look for more.”

  “Price, get your ass over here now. I’m aware you think you know battle better than I do, but if we waste our time trying to escort individuals to safety, the Quatro will burn Plenitos to the ground. Do you get that?”

  Jake took a deep breath. He wanted to call Roach out, but he knew his CO was right. All of Plenitos’ families would die if they couldn’t retake the city from the Quatro. Fighting them was how he could serve its citizens best. Roach obviously knew that.

  Better than I do, clearly.

  Jake claimed to want to help his sister get better, and yet he was playing fast and loose with his career by bucking Roach’s orders. Sooner or later, he realized, that would catch up to him—it could even result in his mech getting taken away, no matter how high his skill level.

  That prospect frightened him almost as much as the idea of his sister dying—a comparison that was frightening in itself.

  I need to start doing as I’m told more. Even if the orders seem like they suck sometimes.

  It didn’t mean he intended to go along with what his superiors wanted every time…but he needed to choose his battles, at the very least.

  “I understand, sir,” he said to Roach. “I apologize. I’ll be right over.”

  Chapter 53

  Fear and Revulsion

  The shot from the beetle’s main gun sheared off half of Lisa’s cover, showering the rest with rubble big enough to crush her skull.

  Luckily, she was elsewhere when it hit— several meters to the left, to be specific, where she’d leapt as the beetle fired.

  She didn’t stop there, though, knowing that any shrapnel could easily tear a hole in her pressure suit. Instead, she continued scrabbling away, breaking into a run once certain she was completely out of the enemy’s view.

  Remembering the other vantage points she’d scouted before engaging the enemy, she ran toward the farthest one, judging that the nearest was far too close. The Daybreak fighters would probably expect her to pop up near her original position. Instead, she ran as fast as she could across the uneven, hilly terrain—blue dust kicking up all around her.

  Her heart hammered away in her chest, partly from exertion, partly from her ongoing terror. On top of that, her throat clenched so tightly she worried about airflow, though that was probably irrational.

  What isn’t irrational about today? Nothing. The fear and bloodlust that gripped her, the fact that she was called upon to shoot and kill human beings—none of that made any sense.

  Nevertheless, it was how the universe had shaken out today, and the death she dealt would mean freedom for her neighbors inside Habitat 2.

  Providing I deal enough of it.

  As she reached her destination, after a headlong dash that had seemed to last far too long, she realized that she would never overcome the fear and revulsion battle caused her to feel. Being an effective soldier meant fighting on in spite of those feelings.

  And administering justice meant becoming nearly as monstrous as those to whom you meted it out.

  Maybe just as monstrous.

  She settled her sniper rifle atop the rock at her new vantage point and surveyed the carnage in the valley. The Daybreak fighters still didn’t seem to know quite what to do.

  Some of them still circled their beetle, seeking safety where there was little to be had. Others stood in full view, returning fire until a Quatro energy beam cut them down.

  Others charged for the hills, to seek cover themselves, no doubt—and to root out their assailants.

  Something crunched behind Lisa, and she turned to behold an enemy soldier, combat knife in hand.

  She had no time to draw her SL-17. Instead, she whipped the sniper rifle around as he sprang toward her. The long barrel caught him in the chest, and she pulled the trigger, blowing him back to land on the sapphire ground, where he ceased to move.

  Taking a deep breath, she studied him a second longer. He had a pistol, which she would collect from his corpse on her way to the next vantage point, but no doubt he’d foregone using it for the sake of remaining stealthy.

  A miscalculation, as it turned out.

  Turning back to the battle, Lisa drew a bead on a soldier who was running toward the hills on the opposite side of the valley. She fired, missed, then took a moment to steady her breathing.

  She fired again. Her target dropped.

  A bullet hit her in the chest, and it was her turn to fly backward, landing partially on the man she’d downed. Darkstream pressure suits were woven with
para-aramid fiber in areas that covered vital organs, and so unlike her late adversary, she survived.

  Sure hurts like hell, though.

  She struggled to her feet, wheezing, but willing herself to stagger on in search of more cover from which to fire. There was nothing else she could do.

  “Lisa,” Tessa’s voice said, reconstituted from subvocalization.

  “Yes?” she grunted. “What?”

  “Just checking you’re safe. And warning you.”

  “Warning me?”

  “Another group just came out of Habitat 2. Just as big as the first. Get ready, girl. This isn’t nearly over yet.”

  Chapter 54

  Sharing

  Phineas Gage did not like to stand idle behind his bar. He always tried to be doing something, whether it was wiping down the counter, cleaning out a glass or—better—pouring someone a drink.

  He realized that made him the most stereotypical alien-planet sealed-habitat bartender in history, but he didn’t care. A few stereotypes existed for a reason. Not many, but a few. And the cheerful, hardworking bartender was one of them.

  So he didn’t like to stand idle.

  But that was exactly what he was doing. Ever since Bob O’Toole walked into the Dusty Bucket bristling with guns.

  “Where’d you get those?” was his first question.

  “Where does anyone get them in the Steele System?” O’Toole grunted. “Found them under a bush. Dug them out from between the cushions of my couch.”

  “There aren’t any bushes in Habitat 2,” Phineas muttered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  He wasn’t sure he did. But that wasn’t unusual, when it came to Bob O’Toole. What was unusual—highly unusual—was that O’Toole seemed as sober as a Mormon judge.

  Phineas decided to try another line of inquiry. “What are you doing with all those guns in my bar?” he asked.

  “Sharing,” O’Toole said. Shifting some of his load from one arm to the other, he held out a rifle by its stock.

  “And why would I want to take that from you, Bob?”

  “Because we’re going hunting, you and me. Hunting us some Daybreak asshats.”