Mecha Samurai Empire

by Peter Tieryas

  Spider deploys the treads on the knees of the Crab, bending them so we’re close to the ground. The hawsers are still connecting us to the train, but we can detach at any time. Autopilot is engaged, and there’s nothing we need to actively do throughout the duration of the trip, assuming all goes without a hitch. I look over at Botan’s GLS, which charts the path from the fortress to Tulsa. There is no enemy presence detected. Spider leans back in his pilot’s seat, and says, “Y’all gonna learn real soon that stealing minutes of sleep is vital to a prolonged career.” He closes his eyes and dozes off.

  Wren and Botan follow suit. I’m surprised Wren’s snoring isn’t heavy. Maybe it’s the engine sound that blocks out the noise.

  Olympia says, “I don’t know how they can sleep.”

  “Me neither,” I reply. “You ever been to Tulsa?”

  “I’m from Tulsa. My parents used to work at a sawmill and helped design the machinery.”

  “They still live there?”

  “The Nazis killed my dad during a sneak attack,” she replies. “We used to have a border collie–lab mix, Beniko. She was such a smart dog, but she was barking all morning that day, and we couldn’t get her to stop. I had no idea why until the Nazis came . . .”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” she replies. “I was glad when we moved to Portland. My mom took a job testing for cosmetic companies. I remember she’d come home with different makeup on her face every day. She eventually remarried. I didn’t get along with my stepdad, so he had me sent to military school.”

  “How was military school?”

  “I hated every minute of it, but I didn’t want to go back home, either. So I enlisted as soon as I graduated.” She is lost in unspoken pain. “Nazis did this to us,” she snaps. “I’ll be glad for a chance at payback.”

  “I hope you get it, but not on this trip.”

  “The Nazis have been provoking our side for months. The only way to send them a message is through force.” I can feel the hatred brimming up in her. I’d feel the same way in her shoes.

  “What do you think would happen if we went to war?”

  “We’d wipe them out, of course,” she confidently declares, brooking no doubt.

  I think we all share her confidence. The Germans have never been able to defeat our mechas without huge losses.

  The minutes seep into each other the same way our speed makes the landscape of dry hills, occasional foliage, and cactus look like a painted blur in the desert. Nature is a whimsical sculptor, molding veins and wrinkles into the dry ground. I wonder how radioactive it is out there after all the fighting and use of nuclear arms. Fortunately, we have an atomic moratorium with the Germans, but the impact still hasn’t fully faded. I had a teacher who served on the border and became sick from radiation poisoning he’d gotten more than ten years before. They were able to regenerate his organs, but if his tumors had advanced just a little more, our doctors wouldn’t have been able to help him.

  An hour passes, then two. My mind skips through a hundred flash memories even though I don’t remember a single one when I try to consciously recall them.

  Spider awakes and stretches his arm.

  “Get a good nap?” Wren asks.

  “Lovely dreams until I saw you,” Spider says.

  “That’s what I was going to say,” Wren retorts.

  “You can’t steal your senior’s words. Anything happen while I was out?”

  “All quiet on the Quiet Border,” Botan, who woke up a few minutes before, replies after checking the scans.

  We begin to see more rock formations and hints of a mountain. They turn into a valley that looks like a colossal trench, a parted Red Sea of stone. Tracks wind right through the middle.

  Spider explains, “This here is the Nazis attempt to dig a trench and protect themselves from us. They used seismic constructs to build it but never got to finish it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we found out what they were doing and beat the hell out of them.”

  The formations remind me of the Grand Canyon as the path gets narrower. But there’s something about it that feels unnatural. Is it my foreknowledge that the Germans were trying to reshape the planet, the way they tried building underwater cities that killed much of the sea life in the Mediterranean? Or is it that somehow, my brain senses the conscious patterning of humans versus millennia of randomized geographic evolution?

  “Something isn’t right here,” Botan says.

  “Do you have anything more concrete than that?” Spider asks.

  “I’m getting strange heat blips on the scans that regularly vanish.”

  “Cream. Message the others and see if they’re getting anything,” Spider orders.

  I relay the anomalous markings. Chieko is the first to reply, and she confirms them. Sensei’s Crab does too.

  “If there’s an ambush here, we’ll be sitting Crabs,” Spider says. “Ask Sensei what she advises.”

  I message her the question. Sensei replies, “It could be radiation distortion affecting the sensors. Keep alert for now. I’ll communicate with RAMDET for further orders.”

  Purely out of curiosity, I check her external output and am surprised I can read her messages. I shouldn’t with its encryption, but I see what she’s asking her bosses without much difficulty.

  “We’re detecting unusual activity. Recommend abort mission,” she writes.

  The response takes four minutes.

  “Abort request denied. Cargo is precious to USJ. Essential that it be delivered on schedule.”

  “We’re a training unit,” Sensei protests. “They’re not ready if there is a combat situation.”

  “At worst, they’re American terrorists. Your RAMs can handle it.”

  “If there’s an ambush, it will be difficult to repel considering our position,” Sensei protests.

  “The Crabs should be able to resist anything they fire at you.”

  “If this were an experienced crew, there’d be no concerns,” Sensei writes back. “But they haven’t formally graduated yet.”

  Two minutes later, the response returns, “Mission cannot be changed. Cargo too important. Discussion over.”

  I’m surprised RAMDET has revealed that we have valuable goods on board, especially with their weak encryption.

  Sensei writes to us: “We proceed as planned. If any resistance encountered, you’ve been trained to handle it.” No sign of weakness or doubt in her words.

  But just as her message finishes, Botan’s navigation panel triggers an alarm.

  “There are four vehicles coming our way,” Botan says.

  I relay the message to Sensei, who confirms the visual.

  “Disengage the hawsers and prepare for combat,” she orders three of us, staying behind as well. The fifth Crab tank continues to escort the train, which goes on without us.

  Spider disengages the hawsers, but as he does, I notice his reactions are stiff. He actually has to stop to massage his right arm as the controls get more intricate. Our split is bumpy as we skitter off our connection, and Spider doesn’t use his right hand to complete the process.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s in pain. The more he’s pressing buttons, the more he’s agitated. His right forearm looks like it’s locking up. He notices me watching him. “It shouldn’t be doing this. They gave me cortisone shots to relieve it.”

  “What’s wrong?” Botan asks Spider.

  “My right hand isn’t in good shape.”

  “We’re about to get into a fight, and your ‘hand isn’t in good shape?’”

  “Relax. I can handle this.”

  Botan shakes her head. “Cream, can you pilot this thing?”

  “Sit down,” Spider orders her. “I got this.”

  Botan is unhappy, but when Spider moves us
toward the enemy targets, she sits back at her console. The train speeds away. I see a familiar sight approaching us from both sides. They’re four Javelins, the preferred vehicle of the NARA. Their cannons are aimed our way.

  Sensei sends us text communications. “I’m assigning one target each. Your job is to dispose of the Javelin. These are pieces of junk compared to our Crabs. Their weapons will not harm you.”

  We’re assigned the third one. Olympia gets the weapons lock.

  “Use incendiaries,” Spider says.

  “I got it,” Olympia replies. She looks over at Wren, who’s securing his lock.

  “Done,” he confirms.

  “Fire.”

  Olympia and Wren fire an incendiary shell from the side guns. Both shots hit the Javelin. But the Javelin appears unaffected, and it unleashes a devastating blast from its frontal cannon in response that knocks us several meters back. We’re all rattled by the strength of the attack. The Javelin begins to charge us. We’re not moving, though, as it gets closer.

  “What are you waiting for?” Botan asks Spider.

  “There’s something wrong with the automated kinematics.”

  Olympia brings up the diagnostics. “They were busted in that attack. You’ll have to go to manual mode. The—”

  The Javelin fires again, this time at a closer distance. The Crab shakes violently, throwing us back even farther. Armor hasn’t been breached, but our internal lights dim, and the shell has taken a bad blow.

  Spider unstraps himself, and says, “Cream. Take the controls.”

  “You sure?”

  “Get over here.”

  He jumps out of the way. I get into the seat. It’s a bit large, but it automatically begins to mold itself to match my body before hardening. I put on the belt, gloves, and goggles. They adjust size for my proportions, but the gloves are wet, and I realize Spider was sweating. I clutch the manual controls to acclimate myself, then turn to the visual interface and use my gloves to control the tank with tactile motion.

  The Javelin is taller than us but, I also remember, vulnerable to attacks that will upset its balance. Olympia and Wren are firing, but our artillery isn’t making a big impact on it. I try to recollect how Chieko did her spring. Repeat motions for all six legs and when activating the far rear legs, use the boosters to add even more speed.

  “What are you doing?” Spider asks, echoing everyone else’s thoughts.

  “Ramming it,” I say, and feel clever for incorporating our “RAM” title. “Make sure you’re all buckled in.”

  I watch the Javelin, wait for that moment Noriko did in our fight in Granada Hills before sprinting into the bipedal vehicle just as it got ready to fire. The Javelin fires again. This time, I use the controls to quickly get out of the way. I get the fourth leg to move before the second is finished and nearly cause us to tumble. Fortunately, I’m able to use the frontal legs to balance us. More important, we dodge the attack. The Javelin rotates its turret to our new position. I sprint toward it as fast as I can. It fires, and just as it does, I “ram” into it.

  The Javelin moves its leg to compensate, bracing itself for impact. Our hit should have knocked it to the ground like last time. But that doesn’t happen. We’re both still standing. It looked much easier when Noriko was doing it. I overestimated the strength of the Crab and underestimated the sensitivity of the Javelin. I’ve also put us in major harm’s way. It’s sobering to realize that if I screw up here, my whole crew dies.

  “Above us!” Botan yells.

  The Javelin has its cannon aimed at us. Olympia and Wren both shoot artillery straight at it. It doesn’t have much impact on its armor, but it causes the turret to rotate askew. The shell hits the ground rather than us. I use the front claws to separate us, moving away from it. About thirty meters from us, the other Crab, piloted by Chieko, is still fighting the Javelin.

  “Check the kikkai for any connections coming out from the Javelins,” I order.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.” I’m hoping that maybe one is a slave to the other and by destroying one, we can dismantle the pair.

  Botan complies. “I’m not getting anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps, annoyed that I’m questioning her. But how can that be?

  Every Javelin must be different, so we can’t disrupt the connection. We just have to use what’s available to us.

  “Spider. Can you ask Sensei how to use the heat gun?”

  “I know how to use it,” Wren says. “At least I practiced using it in the sim with Chieko. It’s powerful, but it’ll drain the energy from the tank for six seconds, and we won’t be able to move. It also takes us about thirty seconds to recharge after each attack.”

  “So if we miss—”

  “We’ll be vulnerable.”

  If I sprint toward the Javelin again, lock ourselves in, and fire, it should do the trick. “Charge it up,” I state.

  “Engaging.”

  Immediately, there is a loud buzz, and the entire cockpit warms with activity.

  “Twenty-eight seconds,” Wren informs us.

  Botan says, “My scans say there’s a patch in the hull that’s eighteen percent thinner than the rest. I’d suggest Olympia fire first, soften it up, and Wren, you shoot the heat gun after that.”

  “On it,” Olympia says, while Wren jumps in with, “Yōkai!”

  The next twenty-five seconds might determine whether we live or die. Hard not to think about as I articulate each leg individually, the joints rotated and counter-rotated to make sure the Crab sprints without falling. The motion is rapid, and I’m using all my fingers to mimic the leg motions I require on the interface. The Javelin moves away from us, knowing if it’s too close, its cannon is worthless. Seventeen seconds. I do a quick scan of the other side, see that Sensei is still fighting off her Javelin. Chieko’s Crab is running circles around her target. Our Javelin fires at us. I rapidly sprint out of the way. This Crab is fast! Ten seconds before the heat cannon is ready, I begin my charge toward the Javelin. It tries to elude us, but we’re way too quick as I ram into the Javelin and wrap my front legs around its limbs.

  “Olympia, shoot everything we got,” I state. “Wren, it’s all you after that.”

  Olympia unloads a volley of gunfire that dents the armor and pierces it. Just as she finishes, Wren fires the heat gun.

  There’s no recoil, rather a sudden searing sensation all around us. After the gun emits its rays, the whole cockpit cools down and silence overtakes the previous cacophony. I try to look out through the goggles, but power is off. Six seconds to see if we succeeded. I flex my fingers, curl them, waiting. Four, three, two, one. The energy from the BPG surges back through the Crab tank. Visuals flood into the goggles. There is a hole through the Javelin’s hull, an empty space with heated edges that are still red. I use magnification to look through the opening. There’s nothing inside. I’m not sure if the heat gun incinerated the pilot, or there wasn’t one to begin with. I push us away from the Javelin The Javelin falls over without anyone to keep it balanced on its feet.

  “It worked?” Wren asks.

  “It worked!” Botan and Olympia both yell.

  We actually beat it!

  “Nice piloting!” he shouts.

  “Nice shot!” I shout back.

  Spider is grinning from his seat. “C’mon, kids,” he says. “The battle ain’t over yet.”

  “How’s Chieko doing?” Wren asks.

  Botan runs to her console. “She’s fine.”

  Outside, Chieko’s Crab moves nimbly. She doesn’t deploy the heat gun. Rather, she snipes at the Javelin. The Javelin responds with a blast, but the Crab is too quick, gets around to the other side, and fires at the Javelin’s leg joints, which are badly damaged. A few more blasts, and its knee buckles, causing it to crumbl
e in place. It’s a far more elegant strategy than the one I used, and I admire the way she uses the Crab’s capabilities in the optimal manner, contrasting with my brute-force attack risking it all.

  Across from us, the remaining two Javelins have also been destroyed. We all get up and into a big group hug. It’s our first battle, and it’s a victory.

  “Great job,” Spider tells me.

  “Thanks,” I reply. “You helped me to train all those off-hours.”

  “It’s all you.”

  I start to take off the gloves and goggles to hand back to him.

  He refuses. “You’re the pilot,” he says.

  “It’s your seat.”

  “You earned this. Besides, I’m hurt. Anything else comes up, we’d have to switch places again.”

  “But—” I’m about to object.

  “I’m not debating this.”

  I bow. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just get our asses back in one piece.”

  I take my seat again, but I feel jumpy. It must be the adrenaline. I loved the intensity of that moment, almost long for it again. I wish there were more Javelins to fight, which doesn’t make sense. Those things could have killed us. But I feel supremely confident in our ability to take them down. This isn’t like a game, where the consequences are digitized. I’m puzzled by my reaction as it’s similar to the one I had during my first encounter and wonder if it’s abnormal to crave danger.

  We have an incoming message. Spider reads it quickly.

  “The train is reporting an obstruction blocking their path eighteen kilometers ahead of us. We’re to help clear the path and deal with any interference.”

  I’ve never been so ecstatic to hear bad news.

  07

  I accelerate as fast as I can.

  Olympia asks, “Any of you know about the NARA?”

  “All them terrorists are the same, savages who want to destroy the Empire,” Wren states.