Mecha Corps

by Brett Patton

  The next game was an interpretive game, where coordinates were flashed on the screen, together with “enemies” that would capture the cadet candidates if they couldn’t calculate time and distance fast enough. Then a game where they got to fire on the enemies, but they couldn’t control the trajectory. That one gave a nice jolt when they got shot. They drilled through the morning on the simple games, stopping only for nutrition bars.

  One cadet candidate never got the hang of it. Sweat streamed down his face, and his little flying vehicle jerked and skidded across the screen. The Auxiliaries kept trying to tune his suit, but it stayed mostly yellow and red. During one break, he was escorted away by two Auxiliaries.

  Matt was getting bored by the repetitive games when finally Major Soto stopped the exercise and ordered them to the back of the building. There the concrete floor sloped down to meet a dark pool of water. Sinuous, metallic forms bobbed in the artificial lagoon.

  Matt leaned forward to get a better look. The machines in the pool were about six meters long, tapered on either end, and segmented like a worm. Their dark, polished metallic surface reflected the blue Mercury-vapor lamps and the light streaming in from the broken windows with fun-house distortion.

  Major Soto kicked off his shoes, rolled up his uniform trousers, and waded down to the closest of the machines. He patted its front, and it wriggled like a puppy.

  An uneasy murmur went through the cadets. The thing looked almost alive.

  “Anyone know what these are?” Soto asked.

  “Eels,” Kyle said. “They’re used for security in The Round on Eridani.”

  “Correct,” Major Soto said. “In this test config, each Eel holds three crew: pilot, sensor, and gunner. The pilot runs the Eel. The sensor provides strategic feedback based on a situation model. The gunner, well, shoots at stuff.”

  Nervous chuckles from some of the cadets.

  “You will have only ten rounds of ammunition, so use it wisely. Also, these test Eels use conventional lithium-fusion reactors. Range is limited. You begin with ten percent total power, which gives a maximum run time of five to seven minutes.”

  “Where is charger?” Sergey said.

  Soto ignored him. “Your objective is to reach a marker defended by Auxiliaries. The marker is clearly specified in the sensor array.”

  Matt nodded. Now all the games made perfect sense. They’d been training for this.

  “Let’s get started.” Soto pointed at Matt. “Pilot.” Serghey. “Sensor.” Ash. “Gunner.” He keyed in something on the Eel. A top hatch unfolded, revealing three cramped seats, where they sat hunched over like speed-bike riders.

  “Want pick better team!” Serghey said.

  “Want being in Mecha Corps?” Soto snapped. “Shut up and get in.”

  Serghey splashed over to the sub.

  “Sensor in the middle,” Soto said. “Pilot in front; gunner in rear.”

  Matt waded into the water and met Serghey and Ash at the sub. He climbed over the edge and dropped into the pilot’s seat. Water sloshed through a mesh grille underneath his feet. In front of him, a small display showed:

  % MOTIVE POWER: 10%

  COMPASS: NNE

  VELOCITY: 0 KNOTS

  “No looking at bottom downstairs,” Serghey said, as he dropped in place.

  “Nothing worth seeing,” Ash told him, jumping in.

  “A fine view!” Serghey said, slapping his butt.

  Ash laughed. “Keep dreaming.”

  Soto tapped Matt on the back of the neck. “Plug in.”

  Matt found the interface cable and snapped it in place. Suddenly, it was like he was nude in the water. He felt its chill currents and the hard concrete underneath. Matt imagined pushing the controls forward and the Eel nudged ahead.

  “Not yet,” Soto told Matt. “Now watch your head.”

  The top of the Eel folded down, shuttering them in darkness. Soto waved Matt out of the way, so Matt brought the Eel to the back of the pool. There, a short tunnel led to the murky green waters of the bay.

  Outside, Soto pointed out another group of cadets: Michelle, Jahl, and Kyle. Matt felt a stab of jealousy.

  “Is like game,” Serghey said. “Marker clearly shown.”

  “This feels so weird,” Ash said.

  Soto counted out two more teams, having Sergeant Stoll take the gunner position to complete the third. When he was done, his voice crackled over the Eel’s comms:

  “Cadet candidates, begin assignment.”

  Matt shot through the tunnel and into the bay, feeling the water rushing past him through the interface suit. It was an amazing sensation, like swimming in the nude.

  The murky water of the bay hid the detritus of centuries of spaceflight. Directly in front of them was a tumble of corroded, weed-grown cylinders. Areas of white paint still bore faded numbers and fragments of red and white stripes.

  “Get it moving!” Serghey bellowed. “Not tourists!”

  Serghey was right. Matt pushed forward. His speed climbed quickly: 10, 15 knots. Schools of dun-colored fish parted in front of them, revealing more wreckage. This time, it was an old Imp-class Mecha. The pilot’s cockpit was smashed as if by a giant hand, and shards of Plexiglas had gone opaque with green algae. One arm was missing entirely ; the other twisted and broken, with stubs of control rods and hydraulic cables protruding. Matt swallowed. It was just like the model he’d left behind.

  “Keep pedal on it!” Serghey bleated.

  Another Eel shot past them. Matt pushed forward as hard as he could. They gained on the lead Eel. Who was inside it?

  “Are there comms to the other ships, Serghey?”

  “Markers only.”

  How were they supposed to coordinate with the other ships? Maybe that was the point. Maybe this was more like something they’d experience at the end of a battle when a Mecha wasn’t operating at full potential. The only coordination they had would be through Serghey’s map and visual reckoning.

  “Where are the other ships, Serghey?” Matt asked.

  “And I am telling you why?”

  “Dammit, Serghey!”

  “You concentrate on drive; I concentrate on next meal,” Serghey said. “Only one kilometer to marker.”

  “We’re supposed to concentrate on getting everyone to the marker!” Matt said. “How can I do that if you don’t tell me where the ships are?”

  “Tell him, you dolt!” Ash said.

  “Cafeteria zero-point-eight klicks—” Serghey’s voice was cut short by the sound of a meaty blow. “OW!”

  “Didn’t like that one, didya?” Ash said.

  “Woman, when we out, there will reckon,” Serghey whined.

  “Tell him!”

  “No.”

  The sound of blows came from the back of the ship. Serghey screamed like a girl. Matt grinned, remembering the ship’s layout. The way the Eel was constructed, Ash could reach his backside, but Serghey couldn’t turn to reach her.

  “Okay—telling, telling!” Serghey said finally. “One ship ahead, fifty meters. Two ships behind, one hundred meters approx. One ship to left, approx ten meters.”

  Matt looked left, where another Eel paced them. It moved through the water with sinuous grace, looking almost alive. The slit window revealed a familiar face: Michelle. She gave him a quick grin and a thumbs-up. Matt did the same. She veered away, the slit window reflecting bright light from the surface.

  “Zero-point-four kilometers ahead; zero-point-one below,” Serghey said.

  Matt pushed the Eel down toward the rocky bottom of the bay, still chasing the lead ship and cutting a way to get ahead of Michelle. His screen showed 7 percent power left, 40 knots. Maybe this would work. Maybe this would be easy.

  Something sizzled by him, trailing bubbles. In the interface suit, its passage warmed his skin.

  “Incoming!” Ash yelled, just as the first bullet hit them.

  Matt yelled. They all did. Through the interface suit, he felt the bullet like a red-hot poke
r in the side. He didn’t need an advanced display to show him where the Eel was hit.

  A tremendous crack echoed through the ship, and Matt’s body jerked in pain. They’d been struck again, this time near his viewport. A crack chased across the clear pane, dribbling water. Matt pushed into a steep dive.

  “Position!” Matt yelled at Serghey.

  “Marker is two hundred meters ahead and below.”

  Matt nosed them down farther. The water leak became a stream as the pressure increased. Ahead of them, the lead ship took fire. It convulsed like a dying animal. The blue-green murk almost hid six people in armored wetsuits armed with MK-1s, stationed all around a dark opening in the bay’s rocky bottom.

  “Enemies on screens!” Serghey yelled. “Suggest Devil Woman shoot now!”

  “Shooting!” Ash screamed. There were two hard, reverberating bangs and the Eel rocked. Bubbles traced their line of fire. Both shots narrowly missed their targets.

  “Aim at enemy!” Serghey yelled.

  “I am!”

  The lead Eel retreated from the battle, and Auxiliary fire converged on Matt’s ship. Searing pain exploded all along his body. Ash screamed and shot four more times, but none of the rounds went anywhere near the targets.

  Through the agony, Matt pulled back on the stick and retreated. Another Eel shot past him and entered the line of fire. Matt caught a glimpse of Michelle’s face, teeth gritted in pain, as it passed.

  Michelle’s gunner fired wild, wasting eight rounds in rapid succession. One finally struck an Auxiliary, sending him spinning out of control. The rest of their opponents directed a steady stream of fire at Michelle. Her Eel writhed and convulsed.

  Matt turned his Eel back toward the battle as another sinuous sub joined them. Now there were three Eels closing in on the Auxiliary gunners. And that’s when he realized, This is the only way we’ll win it. With a concerted attack from every Eel at once. He drove a wide circle round the other Eel and made eye contact with all the candidates in the other sub, and like the leader for all of them, drove his Eel into a hard plunge after Michelle. The other Eel followed on his wing.

  “Shoot, Ash!” he yelled.

  Rattling bangs from his Eel. Bubbles traced lines to the closest Auxiliary. Her weapon went flying and she tumbled through the water. Matt turned toward the next, but his viewport suddenly crazed. Chill water sprayed everywhere. Matt blinked in the salty mist and wiped frantically at his eyes. He squinted and pushed himself closer to the viewport, so he could see through a small part of it that wasn’t cracked. The Auxiliary was changing clips on her MK-1.

  Matt accelerated toward her.

  “Ash!” he yelled, as the Auxiliary finally managed to snick a new clip in place.

  “I’m out!” Her voice was a screech.

  The Auxiliary raised her gun. Matt looked right down its barrel. And he saw exactly what was going to happen. He wouldn’t reach her in time. She’d fire, their viewport would cave in, and they’d be done.

  An Eel shot in front of them, knocking the Auxiliary off her footing. She tumbled away into the murky water. Another Eel wiped out the last of the Auxilaries.

  For a moment, Matt let the rush of victory take him. They’d done it. He whooped in delight as water sprayed in his face.

  “Time for happy later,” Serghey said. “Marker ahead, in hole. Is craft leaking?”

  Matt laughed and shoved them forward. His display read:

  % MOTIVE POWER: 2%

  That was fine. That’s all they needed. They slipped into the hole at the bottom ahead of the other Eels. Darkness surrounded them.

  “Where’s the marker?”

  “Ahead, one hundred meters.”

  “A hundred meters?”

  “Is what display indicates.”

  Matt pushed forward. Utter black closed in on all sides, shuttering his vision. He felt the Eel brush against rough rock through the interface suit, and the water got warmer.

  What if there are more troops in the cave? What if this whole thing is a trap?

  “Marker ahead, twenty meters,” Serghey said.

  Matt pushed forward. He had to trust the mission.

  “Ten meters,” Serghey said.

  Matt scraped against something that didn’t feel like rock.

  “I don’t know about this,” Matt said.

  “At marker!” Serghey said.

  Orange light flared around them, revealing steel mesh all around. They’d driven into a cage.

  “Shit!” Matt reversed hard. His sub flipped end over end to face the three other Eels behind. Metal grating dropped, trapping all the subs inside. Matt’s Eel bonged off the mesh.

  “Fuck!” Outside the grating, a heavy metal door slowly fell, blocking the weak blue-green light from the cave entrance.

  “What’s going on?” Ash asked.

  “We’re screwed,” Matt said.

  “But that was marker,” Serghey bleated. “Exercise did. We complete.”

  A rush of bubbles jostled the Eels. Matt slid sideways and bumped into one of the other ships. Michelle’s frightened eyes looked back at him. He tried to move their viewports closer, but his readout read:

  MOTIVE POWER: 0%

  Bubbles cascaded upward. An air pocket formed at the ceiling and expanded rapidly downward. Soon, the four Eels were all sitting on steel grate grown over with moss in a chamber full of air.

  The top hatch of Matt’s Eel popped open, spilling sickly orange light on them. Matt unfolded himself from the pilot’s seat and scrambled out onto the grate. Serghey, cursing, fell hard beside him. Other pilots and crew got out of their Eels, looking around in confusion. On either end of the cage were solid steel doors.

  “Did we win or did we lose?” Jahl asked.

  Matt almost laughed. He had no idea. Michelle paced beside her Eel. Kyle sat on the edge of the Eel cockpit, studying the walls of the cage.

  An almost subsonic hum shook bits of sand and rock from the ceiling, tinking on the metal grate.

  “Look,” Ash said, pointing at the inner steel door. It rose slowly into the ceiling. It revealed a polished floor, reflecting bright blue-white light. Two strong, muscular legs stood in the middle of the floor. As the door rose higher, Matt wasn’t surprised to see that it was Major Soto.

  Behind Major Soto rose a miniature city, set under a brilliant blue sky. It was like something you’d see in the Future Ideals of the Union video. To one side, streamlined, graceful towers, connected by transit tunnels with bright-lit cars sliding like strings of pearls. Broad avenues carried gray-uniformed Auxiliaries and blue-suited Corps hurrying to their jobs. To the other side there was a broad blacktop training area, covered with markings like a giant football field. Eventually the blacktop area gave way to more natural rock, trees, and grass. In the natural area, concrete slabs simulated a town. They were heavily cracked and cratered.

  Matt swallowed hard, trying to hide his awe. It was an underground city under a simulated sky. The sun streaming down on them was likely a small fusion reactor, riding rails set into the ceiling.

  “Welcome,” Major Soto said, “to the real training camp.”

  5

  ENTRY

  Two days on Earth. Two hours in underground Mecha Training Camp. Matt stood on his tiny balcony in Cadet Housing and looked out over the bustle of the city, drained and numb. Part of it was simple fatigue. Part of it was the beating he’d taken from the interface suit. And part of it was the incredible vista in front of him.

  Cadet Housing looked right up one of the main avenues of the mini city. Auxiliaries and Mecha Corps hurried up and down the broad boulevard, beneath a fake sky that had faded to purple twilight and stars. The crowd moved quickly and purposefully, intent on their business. Almost everyone walked alone. The few couples kept a tense distance between them. Eyes locked forward, looking at something beyond the edge of the horizon.

  Matt knew that look. Every refugee ship had its share of people lost in endless drudgery. Workaholics. Obsessives. Or
those who lived only for the bar at the end of the day. Alcoholics. Addicts.

  Love without joy, Pat had called it. Pat Osaki was boss of the gardens on the Rock, the Displacement Drive ship that had picked him up after his father’s murder.

  In contrast with the passersby, small, bright-lit signs advertised businesses centered around entertainment: JAKE’S TAVERN; IL TRATTORIA, A RESTAURANT; PENNI ARCADE ADVEN-TURELAND; REAL-SIM VIDEOTOPIA (FEATURING CORSAIR RAIDER REVENGE 7 & TWO WORLDS: A LOVE STORY); SEACURSIONS & EARTH TOURS; MECHA CORPS SPECIAL SERVICES.

  Above the throngs, big adverboards cast a garish light. The one closest to him ran a PSA on the Union’s most-wanted Corsairs. Number 1 was represented by only a silhouette and a single name: Rayder.

  Everyone knew Rayder, but few had ever glimpsed him. They called him the General in Shadows. He kept well-hidden, despite leading some of the most daring and direct raids on Union worlds in the past decade. Rayder loved high-profile targets. He’d recently destroyed an entire Universal Union Displacement Drive cruiser in a skirmish near Epsilon, deep inside the Union.

  Matt’s hands twisted on the chrome rail, remembering once again, all of a sudden, in vivid detail that last day with his father. That was more like a Corsair: strike at the edge of the Union, kill defenseless people for money you can get from black-marketing stolen tech, then run and hide. Corsairs were only loosely organized. If they couldn’t fight the Union, they’d happily hit the Aliancia or the Taikong, or fight among themselves.

  “Hey,” a voice came up from below.

  Matt looked down. Michelle stood on the balcony one floor beneath him, one room over.

  “Hey, yourself,” Matt called, telling himself, You’re not here for this.

  Michelle leaned on the railing and looked out over the city. After her first greeting, she seemed content to ignore him. The silence stretched like a challenge.

  Matt was first to speak. “Have you ever been off Earth?”