Dead Mech Walking: a mech LitRPG novel (Armored Souls Book 1)

by Xavier P. Hunter

  The door opened, and Nurse Winston entered. “Did I come back too soon?”

  “Too soon for what?” Reggie asked.

  Dr. Zimmerman ignored him. “No, go ahead. Reggie, running from your problems won’t solve them.”

  “I’m not running,” Reggie protested. Running would have meant he could stand or even move. He felt like the damsel in the old silent movies, tied to the train tracks.

  Outside his view, Reggie heard a drawer opening on metal rollers. Glass clinked from inside.

  “I have access to your account info,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “I know you haven’t interacted face to face with a human-controlled player in weeks.”

  “How could you—? Never mind. You can see my mission logs.”

  Reggie slumped, or at least he tried to. All he managed was to go limp in his straps.

  “So you know about The Mechromancer.”

  Dr. Zimmerman snickered. “The what, now?”

  “The Mechromancer,” Reggie repeated. “That’s the guy beating the snot out of me every time I show my face on a mission.”

  He heard the doctor’s voice right in his ear. “Have you tried getting help with that?”

  Reggie wanted to protest that he didn’t need help, that he was man enough to solve his own problems. But then again, wasn’t he part of a unit? Hadn’t he called for air support more times than he cared to remember? That “army of one” slogan was just words; no army was based on individual toughness.

  Nurse Winston came over with a syringe. Reggie had an IV port stuck in his arm. With all the other tubes, straps, and wires, it had hardly warranted attention until she stuck the needle into it and pushed the plunger.

  “Doc, what’s she pumping into… me…”

  Reggie passed out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Reggie was used to being dumped back into Armored Souls by now. It was like the couch in his old apartment. As much as he hated Daisy kicking him out of bed, as soon as he settled in on the couch, Reggie felt right at home.

  It felt good to move. He couldn’t have been back in the real world for more than half an hour, plus however long he had lain there unconscious before loading back into the game. Certainly, his mind didn’t feel sluggish for having been drugged.

  He should have been pissed at the doc and Nurse Winston, but Reggie was more relieved to be back in the game world. Here he felt powerful. Back at the hospital, he was being griefed worse than in Armored Souls. At least with a juggernaut and free run of a galaxy, he had a fighting chance.

  Rolling up his sleeves, there was no sign of the IV line that was plugged into his real arm back in his real body. This digital rendition of Reggie King was fit, vigorous, and itching for combat.

  Though the prospect of The Mechromancer still loomed, Reggie needed something immediate. Even the loss of a mission would be better than sitting around stewing about what was going on with his physical body.

  [Special Mission Available]

  The message was plastered on the computer screen in the hangar when he got there. Reggie hit the screen, and there was a timer counting down beside a brief description of a time-sensitive mission.

  Garmo Technix is evacuating a recently discovered secret research lab on Raynesdark. The Peloton Corporation wants to make sure the research is destroyed before it can be moved to another secret site.

  0:00:25

  0:00:24

  0:00:23

  0:00:22

  Reggie didn’t have much time to consider. It was listed as a level 10 mission. The location wasn’t far from his own secret base, which might have been why this was offered to him in the first place.

  0:00:12

  0:00:11

  Not wanting to risk the timer running out on him, Reggie hit Accept.

  Another timer began. The screen read: Estimated Time to Evacuation.

  0:45:00

  0:44:59

  0:44:58

  Reggie slapped the controls for the base’s PA system. “All hands report to transport, on the double.”

  He ran for Vortex.

  The NPC pilots showed up not long after, each scrambling into their Chipmunks and proclaiming their readiness in typically inane fashion.

  “Let’s move out!” Reggie barked. He herded his platoon aboard the transport, and it left for orbit immediately.

  It was a short ride. The base was on a tiny runt of a moon barely large enough to support an atmosphere. On the way, Reggie did a quick review of the limited mission data and selected a landing hex for the drop ship.

  They touched down at H37.

  An orbital shuttle lifted off, heading for a cargo freighter parked in orbit. Reggie wasn’t too late. As another shuttle was on the ground with futuristic forklifts buzzing in and out like bees carrying pollen to the hive.

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Garmo Technix Research Lab]

  [Secondary Objective: Destroy Cargo Shuttles 0/3]

  “Sando, Barv. Disable that shuttle,” Reggie ordered, making doubly sure they understood by marking the target on the mini-map.

  The two Chipmunk Pilots complied.

  “Fraya, Tenny. Head directly for the main building,” Reggie radioed. Then he marked which he meant by the main building, just in case being three times the size and sitting dead center in the compound wasn’t enough to make it obvious.

  An explosion rocked the moon.

  [Secondary Objective: Destroy Cargo Shuttles 1/3]

  “Good work. Sando, Barv. Sweep the perimeter for hostiles.”

  It was eerie just how quiet the facility was. Sure, there was plenty of civilian traffic as scientists and workers frantically tried to escape. But there was nothing resembling permanent gun emplacements, security defenses, or enemy juggernauts.

  On the way to the main building, Reggie launched salvos of missiles into the secondary buildings. Somehow, each time he expected one to burst open like a spider egg and dozens of juggernauts to pour out.

  Reggie kept an eye on the mini-map as well, watching for signs of The Mechromancer showing up to spoil the party. But this was a special, timed mission. Maybe that black-hearted bastard hadn’t heard about it in time.

  “Open fire,” Reggie ordered when the Chipmunks were in range for SRMs.

  Missiles pounded the building, leveling walls and causing secondary explosions. A hit point bar appeared in Reggie’s HUD, showing the progress toward total destruction.

  Main Lab: 220/250

  Main Lab: 204/250

  Main Lab: 188/250

  Reggie squeezed off a blast from the Plasma Launcher, not bothering to waste his own missiles on the job. Part of him insisted that he was being frugal; another part of him knew he was conserving ammo in case of an ambush.

  Main Lab: 181/250

  Main Lab: 165/250

  Main Lab: 149/250

  Main Lab: 142/250

  Main Lab: 126/250

  Reggie’s next shot reduced the lab’s hit points to 119, and a message popped up.

  [Bonus Objective: Retrieve Advanced Tech Item 0/1]

  “Cease fire!” Reggie ordered.

  His breath came quick. Advanced tech? Was this just a mission reward bump—maybe some extra cash and a little XP—or was Reggie in for something he could keep.

  “Been killed enough times this level. What’s another death?”

  Hitting the cockpit release, Reggie waited as Vortex’s face opened up. It was a long climb to the ground, but Reggie’s in-game self was more than up to the task, scrambling to the ground like a monkey.

  The sidearm strapped to Reggie’s side felt like a toy when he drew it. Too light. A pistol should be steel, heavy, something that could knock a grown man out if you pistol-whipped him. The thing in Reggie’s hand was the conjuring of some sci-fi geek’s imagination, more a movie prop than a weapon.

  But it worked.

  Reggie fired warning shots over the heads of scientists who scattered at his approach as he stormed through the fiery wreck of a science lab.
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  “I shouldn’t have left Vortex,” he muttered to himself as he delved farther into the maze of corridors.

  He passed signs with ominous labels like “Brain Duplication” and “Specimen Confinement.” For some reason, blasting the access panels beside doors caused them to slide open. Reggie wasn’t going to think too deeply about how stupid an idea that was; he was just glad it worked.

  When he came to a door that read “Prototype Storage,” Reggie felt fairly certain that he’d come to the right place. He aimed his coil pistol and put a quick round through the panel by the door. Like the others, this caused the door to slide open with a satisfying whoosh.

  Inside, the room was cold. It wasn’t quite see-your-breath cold, but it was definitely sweater weather inside. Considering most of the building was on fire, it seemed incongruous for Reggie to be shivering.

  If there was a purpose to this room beyond serving as a glorified treasure chest, Reggie couldn’t find it. Sitting on a fancy glass-and-plastic desktop was a slivery disc, looking like nothing so much as the pedestal for a really fancy trophy but with nothing on top of it.

  Scooping up his prize, Reggie resolved to figure that part out later.

  [Bonus Objective: Retrieved Advanced Tech Item 1/1]

  There was one thing he noticed as he tucked the disc inside his jacket. One acronym, scrawled on the side, read: A.S.H.A.R.I.

  [Mission Successful - 4100 XP – 0Cr]

  No cash? That was fine. The disc had to be worth something, at least.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Reggie tossed the techno-treasure disc in his hand like a cheap bauble. One thing about knowing you’re in a game is a unique perspective on the prospect of dropping something. It was a lesson he’d learned in the bar back on the House Virgo command ship. Drop a beer glass, and it won’t shatter. There was some piece of code in the software that determined intent before allowing anything to break.

  Sitting down at the little desk he’d purchased for his quarters, Reggie accessed the computer terminal and looked up his inventory.

  [Juggernaut - Wolverine Class - “Vortex”]

  [Headquarters - Platoon Rated - Unnamed]

  Each entry had a plus sign to explode it into detailed sub-inventories, but Reggie ignored those.

  [Coil Pistol - Star-K Industries - “Worthless Piece of Bleep”]

  The inventory went on to list Reggie’s clothing, a few creature comforts that came under his private ownership rather than falling under the umbrella of the base’s furnishings, and the disc.

  Reggie tapped on the disc’s entry.

  [AI Computer Personality - Z-Rated Technology - “A.S.H.A.R.I.”]

  The entry on the AI was bare bones. It made sense since theoretically no one knew anything about the research going on at Garmo Technix except a bunch of scientists Reggie had largely been responsible for killing.

  But the end of the entry leaped off the screen to slap Reggie across the face.

  Resale price: 12,400,000Cr

  Reggie blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. It was still 12.4 million credits. Everything he owned in game wasn’t worth that. The whole base plus Vortex might net him the .4 that hung off the figure like an afterthought.

  With money like that, Reggie could trick out Vortex like a boss. Forget upgrading to a bigger chassis. Bigger wasn’t always better in Armored Souls. Sure, he’d gotten his ass served up to him on a platter by Titans and Rhinos, but with 12.4 million credits, he could invest in particle cannons, anti-matter rays, electronic countermeasures, stealth modules, and any number of ultra-expensive systems to level the playing field.

  Reggie could just picture himself emerging from adaptive camouflage concealment to open fire with multiple particle cannons, taking a sluggish Rhino by surprise and blasting through its leg armor before it could maneuver to return fire.

  But before he gave away a piece of unique tech, Reggie wanted to try it out. There had to be something this AI did to make it worth that kind of scratch.

  Reggie opened an app that allowed him to access the base PA system from his console. “Hey everyone. Meet at the hangar in five. We’re going on a training mission.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The mission Reggie selected was little more than target practice. It was the base of operations of a low-end bandit faction. Reggie was contracted to eliminate the pests who had been harassing the Jemisin Beer Company’s shipments of late.

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Bandit Base]

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 0/15]

  [Secondary Objective: Recover Stolen Beer]

  Like most bandit operations, this one was holed up in a place no respectable colonist would want to live. It wasn’t snowy due to lack of moisture, but the outside temperature read -40°C.

  Reggie surveyed the landscape, tapped a route into the mini-map for his platoon to follow, then brought up the rear in Vortex.

  Then he loaded up ASHARI.

  The disc had locked into place in a vacant spot on Vortex’s control console. A holographic image projected up from the surface, showing the image of a woman’s face, all rendered in shades of blue. “Greetings, Warrior King,” ASHARI greeted him, her voice prim and proper with a slight reverb to it, like she was speaking through a fan.

  “How’d you know my name?” Reggie asked.

  “I am connected to Vortex’s computer, and you are registered as the owner.”

  “Great. Someone with some critical thinking skills. What do you do?”

  “I am an Artificial Sentient Human Assistance Resource Interface. ASHARI for short. I am capable of performing any number of functions for you, ranging from tactical assessments to wardrobe evaluation and covering a wide area in between. I can be frank and honest with you in ways that players might not and helpful to an extent that you may have found lacking in non-player characters.”

  Reggie snorted. “You can say that again.”

  He braced himself for the inevitable echo of ASHARI’s previous statement.

  She remained silent.

  “Why didn’t you say it again?” Reggie asked, narrowing his eyes at the impassive holographic face.

  “You were speaking idiomatically,” ASHARI replied. “And while the statement permitted reiteration on my part, it was not requested. My interpretation of your reactions upon first making my observation was that you had heard and processed my words.”

  “So you’re watching me? Scanning me?” Reggie asked.

  “I am designed to be as helpful as possible. Monitoring you for non-verbal cues and signs of distress are among my directives.”

  Reggie took a long breath and let that sink in. This wasn’t an idiot box like the Four Stooges or his current crop of NPC pilots. The only reason the latter group was performing was due to his Command skills. None of what they were doing was attributable to their own merits. But ASHARI had a head on her shoulders—well, maybe not the shoulders part, but her head didn’t seem empty, at least.

  “Any chance you can pilot a juggernaut?” Reggie asked.

  “I am not programmed to operate juggernauts, nor to inhabit NPC bodies to make them do so.”

  Reggie scowled. “How did you know I was going to ask that?” he demanded.

  The mini-map showed that the Chipmunk pilots were nearing the end of their cover from the bandit base. This conversation was either going to wrap up quick, or Reggie was going to be finishing it while under fire.

  “Your question indicated that your goal was to find a way for me to replace one of your platoon members. That seemed the next logical inquiry toward that end. Pardon me, Warrior King, but your platoon has come under fire.”

  “Commander,” Fraya reported. “Enemy sighted.”

  Fraya’s torso armor was already yellow.

  On the mini-map, the bandits had appeared en masse. There were 8 Sandpipers and 7 Otsus. One of them managing a little damage even on a Chipmunk was impressive.

  “Fire at will,” Reggie ordered.
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  “Warrior King,” ASHARI said. “Tactically speaking, assigning individual targets would be advisable. It could shorten the estimated completion time for the mission by up to two minutes fifteen seconds.”

  “You gonna do that every time I give an order?” Reggie asked. If this was going to be a regular feature of ASHARI, 12.4 million credits would be heading to his bank account the instant he got her back to base.

  “Only if you prefer,” ASHARI replied. “Providing any and all possible advice is merely my default mode. You can specify when and what type of communications you prefer, or I will adapt to your expressed reactions over time. Either way, I expect to eventually function optimally for your command style.”

  “You’re one bleep of a saleslady,” Reggie replied. “Fine. Go ahead and lay off unsolicited tactical advice for threats I’m aware of. I’m not here to be efficient; this is a test run for you, not the four amigos out there.”

  “Of course,” ASHARI replied. “What functionality would you like to test?”

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 2/15]

  Even without his intervention, the Chipmunks were more heavily armed than their squirrelly little opponents. Reggie didn’t even have to join in the fighting if he chose.

  “Predict the outcome of this engagement if I don’t get involved.”

  “100 percent chance of victory,” ASHARI replied instantly. “There is a statistically insignificant chance of simultaneous mass systems failure in all Chipmunk juggernauts that would be the only likely avenue for mission failure.”

  There were times when Reggie wondered how much effort some of these corporations put into their own security when a band of scruffy little juggernauts like this warranted a contract hit.

  “Nice. What would be the chance of victory if I went out there alone and recalled the Chipmunks?”

  ASHARI hesitated only a moment. “Based on the AI programming, 100 percent also. However, if the AI pilots were replaced by humans, a scattering technique could allow the Otsus to evade you indefinitely.”