by P W Hillard
“Quickest route there is right in through the front,” Xander said. “That would be a hell of a distraction. Would still have to deal with the tanks on route to the train, but suits are going to come running for an attack there.”
“I don’t see how that’s any different to just attack the front for real?” Sergei looked confused. “Still sounds like we’re fucked.”
“Not necessarily. I have an idea. A terrible one, possibly, but I’ll work on it. We need to get there first, so we better hit the road.”
Rise up! Fight against your corporate oppressors!
First recorded broadcast from the group known as Black Rose, sent to Hades Hottest News from an anonymous source.
People of Hades, your liberation is here, salvation from oppression beneath the heal of overlords who care only of profit and themselves. To them, you are insignificant, a number on a spreadsheet to be exploited, paying a pittance for your labour only to claw back that wage through their overpriced junk. You are undervalued, unloved, cogs in a machine designed only to grind you down into dust. An all-consuming maw swallowing you whole, only to spit you back out to repeat the process. You are worth more than that. You are valuable in a way the corporations cannot understand.
There is hope though, a glimmer in the void that you can grab. No, you must grab! To not do so would be to cast yourselves deeper into the pit. Tighter into the clutches of your oppressors. Now is your time, your chance to strike back. Join us, fight against your shackles, take up arms and enter the fray. Your news paints us as terrorists, troublemakers, tiny insignificances raging uselessly against the system. Nothing could be further from the truth! Listen not to the fake news peddled by those who tell lies for a living, corporate mouthpieces, lickspittles reading from an autocue. Know that we speak the truth, we fight for you, the people. Our forces are winning across the entire belt, a movement years in the making.
Your news called us Black Rose. This is a good a name as any, a fitting one, for we truly are a rose, a beautiful ray of hope within a garden of weeds. Like the rose we too have thrones, wicked barbs to sting at the enemies of freedom. Latch onto that hope, grip us tightly even as we may prick you, for pain is the only way to a new, glorious world.
Look now, how the corporations fight amongst each other. We are the kindling, the spark, but they are the fuel. Threatened they immediately go to war, not with us, but with each other. We simply nudged them along, pushing them into the inevitable. Look how readily they scratch at each other’s eyes, how long their claws are. Armies follow their call, mercenaries take their money. Whole legions lay at their command, ready to fight and die. And for what? Money? Profit? Human life is more than a resource to be tapped. An asset to be squeezed of value.
Listen not to those taking the corporate credit, to those under the heel of contracts. A man bound by money is no better than one chained to his own demise. Xander Cain claims to know much about us, that he is somehow an expert for having faced us in the field. He is nothing, a nobody, a washed up cast out scion of a famous family, fighting to get back into their good graces. When we are done, no-one will care about the old dynasties. All that will matter is that the people are cared for, that the corporations who control you are cast down, shattered to pieces.
We value you. We care. Though yes, there may be some pain, and yes there may be some casualties, the sacrifice will be worth it. You will get your freedom, unleashed from the corporate yoke. We ask you again, take up arms, join us, strike against the corporations and their mercenary hounds. Fight for your world, for yourselves. Be the hand that strikes down oppression, be the freedom that you wish to have!
This is just the start. Across the Iron Belt, our units are moving. These events are repeating on a dozen worlds, Black Rose forces setting into motion an unstoppable wave. From here, the message will grow, spread, stretching out across known space. From here to the Dead Stars, and beyond if needed. We will spread our message, smash the gears of oppression, break down the chains of commerce. Embrace freedom, embrace liberty, embrace a life with meaning and worth. Embrace the Black Rose and its thorns.
The corporate system is unsustainable. They seek to grow, infinitely and exponentially forever. Investors, stockholders, the boards, they are all complicit in a system that any fool knows can’t last forever. Everything is finite. Even with a thousand worlds at their call, with every asteroid mined, with every scrap and morsel being drained of their resources, it is not enough for them. This cannot continue forever. Even now we chafe within the bubble of the Dead Stars, a barrier holding back our unchecked greed. There is room within known space for everyone, enough resources, properly managed, to last everyone from now until the stars go dark. But not if we allow corporate growth to continue unchecked. To leave them in power is to sign the death warrants of our children.
We leave you with this simple message. Fight, or die. To serve beneath the corporations would mean your death. A slow, painful demise as they wring what they can from you, toiling away for what scraps they deign to throw you until you are old enough to retire, to live in inevitable poverty. What life is this? What is this existence? If there is such a thing as a soul, would this not crush it? We offer you liberty, we offer you life. The corporations are a vine, slowly strangling our garden to death. We are the rose, daring to sneak through into the light, life fighting back.
Fight, rise up, or die.
Chapter Seventeen
Xander couldn't get the message out of his mind. It wasn't that he had been called out by name, though that itself was disconcerting, it was the strange nature of the message. It had claimed over and over, repeating its point in a kind of rambling way, that Black Rose was trying to liberate people from corporate control. Their stated plan kind of made sense, the corporations were always on a knife-edge, and clearly, attacks by unmarked mechsuits had been enough to convince them that another corporation was attacking openly. Declaring that to be the case seemed odd, though Xander supposed the damage was done. No corporation would back down now, not with their enemies on a war footing. They were rabid animals now, facing each other down, refusing to be the first to blink.
He still wasn’t sure that he believed their claim that they were operating throughout the belt, though all the evidence was continuing to point to the rumours being true. He should be excited, it would mean a lot of mercenary work at a high price. Demand outstripping supply. Xander didn’t relish the thought of taking to the field against corporate forces. He had faced them on occasion, every mercenary had, but no-one looked forward to fighting them. Their lower skill and worse equipment meant they were the ones paying the price for battle more often than not. Their casualty rates could be horrific. If there really was war across the Iron Belt, Xander couldn’t fathom the numbers that would die.
He put down the tablet, pried from Tamara’s hands after considerable effort. He had borrowed it for his plan, though it had proven useless, having no way of connecting to the device he needed it too. That left just one option, but Xander wasn't keen on doing it without at least ensuring it was somewhat safe first.
Sergei had been nearly as hesitant as Tamara when Xander had explained his plan. Prying a multimillion credit relic from his hands had been easier than taking the tablet from Tamara’s, though Xander suspected that it was because Sergei secretly agreed with him. It was daring, and very likely incredibly stupid, but what other option did they have?
The loader had been moved to the gateway, preparing to begin its journey towards the elevator. Two drones buzzed about above it, the third scouting forwards, checking the upcoming route for any problems. The running battles the lost drone had capture had moved on, leaving the run relatively clear, for now. Xander had decided to delay their leaving for an hour or so, to put his plan into action.
The tarpaulin had been removed, exposing the precious cargo beneath. There it was, lying amidst the haphazardly stacked boxes. The true prize of Heliustech's discovery. The mech seemed to glisten, the light catching the armou
r, reflecting outwards in a warm glow. Now he could see it in the daylight, it was taller than Xander remembered, easily rivalling Anya's heavy suit. They had managed to find the release for the front plate, and it had opened like a cave, a yawning chasm waiting for someone to delve within.
Remarkably, the interior looked almost new. Whilst Xander could make out most of the parts, their designs subtly different but similar enough to recognise, some of them were a mystery. They looked almost alien, arcane knots of metal and wires. The interior cabin was different from any he had seen before. Normally they had a simple seat, with armrests and belts to keep the rider secure. A rifle and sidearm would be affixed to the cabin wall with a series of metal clips, whilst locked storage lockers existed above and below the chair.
The one cabin inside the ancient mech was human-shaped like you could pour clay into it and squeeze out a golem. It was a form-fitting pod, no space left for anything aside from the human within. The door of the cabin had a matching cut out, the wetware connection dangling from it. Those at least seemed to be familiar. It was hardly surprising, the wetware connection itself was based on recovered lost tech examples. Xander thought the cabin looked claustrophobic, even for a man used to being sealed within tons of lumbering metal.
“So, all this is for this thing?” Tamara was stood behind Xander, impatiently tapping her foot. She stretched out her hand as the mercenary turned to face her.
“This and the rest of the stuff. But yeah, this is a hell of a find. There haven’t been many complete mechs found. Three, maybe? Not including this one. The first one gave us the idea and basic tech for mechsuits, the second one provided the wetware to make it all work. None of them have ever included the weapons though. I think that makes this a first.”
“How much is it worth?” Tamara said, taking the tablet from Xander.
“Millions? Billions maybe? I have honestly no idea. It isn’t worth anything if we can’t get it off this planet, so here we are.”
“Feels like a waste to use it.”
Xander shrugged. “The stuff in the crates is still worth a fortune. Honestly, at this point, I just want to get paid. Doing this job has put me into the red, and they can’t pay me without selling this lot. Plus, Sergei agrees, he wouldn’t have signed off on it otherwise.
“I thought he was just a warehouse manager?” Tamara lifted the tablet, the flash blinking as she began to photograph the sleeping giant. “Does he have the authorisation to do that?”
“No,” Xander said. “But that’s his problem. I just send his company an invoice.”
“You act like you wouldn’t, but you would fit in a business setting just fine.”
“Maybe. You don’t have to come with us, you know?” Xander’s attempt at changing the subject was as subtle as a brick. “You can go back to your homes, or a shelter, get off the streets, maybe.”
“I could, but that still seems dangerous. I figure this way I’m fitting all of my danger into a very short period, getting it out of the way.”
“I don’t think it works like that?”
“Let’s pretend it does.” Tamara clambered up the silver steps that unfolded from the back of the loader, shooting up as though she was wearing sturdy boots, rather than six-inch heels. She crept closer to the mech, the camera on her tablet snapping as she went. “Besides, you want us to miss all of this? Think of the footage, a lost tech mech in action.”
“Yes, well,” Xander said as he followed her up the steps. “This is assuming it all works. That’s still a bit of an unknown quantity. I wanted to try and hook up the tablet to a diagnostic cable, but I couldn’t find one.”
“Maybe it’s all wireless. I read once that our mechs used to be like that, before the corporate wars.”
“Yeah, I guess you could be right. I don’t even know if there is neutrite in the reactor.” Xander scratched at his cheek. “I don’t know if the weapons have ammo. I don’t really know what kind of weapons those even are.” He pointed to the huge blocky rectangles attached to each arm.
“Sounds like you’re starting to doubt yourself.” Tamara turned, snatching a picture of a scowling Xander with her tablet.
“Me? Never?” Xander winked. It felt cheesy doing it. “I suppose I am putting off the inevitable though. There’s only one real way to see if this thing works.”
***
Xander slipped down into the rider's cabin, his limbs stretching out into the person-shaped cut-out. He felt like an action figure, sealed away in some plastic packaging on a store shelf. It was padded at least, though it was slightly bigger than he was. He wondered if it had been designed for someone taller than him, or if people pre-collapse were just generally bigger. The door to the cabin hung above him like it was waiting to clamp shut around his body.
“All good?” said a voice in his ear. It was Alexi. Xander had brought an earpiece into the suit, he had no idea if it even had a radio. Alexi had been ecstatic at the idea, happily claiming the use of Xander’s defender for the time being. The mech loomed over him, blocking out a portion of the light. On the opposite side was Meg’s. Each was standing guard, just in case.
“I suppose so. No idea where the reactor start is though. There’s no manual controls in here at all.”
“Not a fan of closing up the cabin in that case,” Meg said. “Could be locked inside.”
“If I am, you can break me out easily enough.”
“I suppose.”
“I’m hoping maybe it’s part of the wetware link?” Xander knew the wetware drew its power from the connection above his eye, the energy supplied from a tiny battery charged by the motion of his elbow. “Ok, I’m going to seal this coffin up now.” Xander had avoided using the mercenary nickname for a rider’s cabin around the civilians. It was a little morbid.
He reached up, pulling a small handle on the front of the cabin. As the door came towards him, he felt resistance, and let go, the door slowly closing on its own, giving him time to reach up and pull the wetware connection, the cabling spooling out from the door. The cabin door shut, casting him into darkness. Xander felt awkward, one hand placed across his chest clutching the connector. This couldn’t be how he was intended to mount the machine.
He tilted his head forward, slotting the connector above his eye, fumbling for a second as he tried to get the pins to line up. He felt it click as they snapped into place.
Nothing happened. Xander was a little disappointed, though he had expected this outcome. He twisted, standing on his tiptoes to slot his other arm into place.
“Anything?” Alexi said. His voice was crackly like the closed cabin was interfering with the signal.
“No,” Xander said. “Noth-”
He felt the connection take hold. The rush of senses that came with joining his mind to the machine.
“Connection established,” said a voice. It sounded male, delicate and formal at the same time. “New pilot detected. Welcome. Establishing baseline neuro readings. Please wait.”
“Uh, hello?” Xander said. This was confusing. A suit had never spoken to him before. “Who is this?”
“Hmm,” the voice said. “I’m only getting a sixty-five per cent sync rate through the neurolink. I can fix that, seems to be a software issue.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Ok, there we go. All ticket-y-boo. Resuming establishing a baseline. Connecting, please wait.”
“Who the hell is this? Hello?” Xander felt like the voice was somehow both all around him, and nowhere, the words forming directly in his mind.
“Oh…oh dear. I, uh, I never expected this. It’s been that long? Really? That would explain the slow reactor response I suppose.”
“Who are you?” Xander was roaring now, trying to force his way through the uppity voice.
“Oh, do simmer down, Xander. I am Mechanised Suit Intermediary Software Mark Seven. Well, that’s what I am. I don’t think anyone has ever asked me who I am before, though if your memories are correct that would explain the
confusion. Matthias. I like that name, it has a nice sound to it. You can call me Matthias.”
“You read my memories? Wait, are you the suit?”
“I am a software-based intermediary. A co-pilot if you like. Designed to take some of the mental load off you. Frankly, I'm astonished you've been operating mechanised combat units without us. It must be exhausting.” Matthias sounded like he was praising a child.
“No, nope. Shutting this down. I am not dealing with an AI.” Xander tried to move, but suddenly found he couldn’t. The cabin had shifted closer, tightening slowly around him until it held him rigid.
“Exit from the pilot's compartment is unavailable during reactor start-up,” Matthias said. He sounded oddly more formal than before. “I can understand your apprehension, your society seems to have a taboo around machine intelligence. Hmm, your society. It sounds so strange. Odd to think your entire culture is gone.”
“What happened?” Xander couldn't help himself. How could he not? AI or not, here was something that existed before the collapse, during the golden age of mankind. It was a once in a lifetime chance to learn the truth.
“Oh, well it…oh. This is embarrassing. I appear to be corrupt. I cannot access my memories of that era. That’s…concerning.”
“Wait, so you don’t remember?”
“I do,” Matthias said. “I just can't access them, it's subtly different. And incredibly frustrating. I believe the closest analogue would be the morning after a hard night of drinking. If your memories are anything to judge by. I wouldn't know. I've never had any kind of drink. Or well, I assume I haven't. Maybe I just can't remember doing that?”
“I would rather you didn’t plumb my memories instead. I don’t know what to make of all this. Open the cabin once the reactor is online. I want to get out.”
