Mech 2

by Isaac Hooke

  Rade unleashed his cobra, drawing fire from some of the Equestrians, and he was forced to take cover behind the wreckages of some of the nearby armored units. More drones came over his position, and Tahoe’s. Rade swiveled onto his back and unleashed his cobra, bringing many of them down. He preemptively unleashed his Trench Coat—some of the fragments couldn’t fire, since his back was on the ground, but the remainder darted skyward.

  Sure enough, the enemy drones launched missiles only a moment later, and Rade’s Trench Coat pieces took care of them, causing the missiles to detonate almost as soon as they had launched, damaging the source drones in the process. In moments he had cleared the sky once more, and returned his attention to Tahoe.

  Manic and Lui were firing on the drones assailing Tahoe; missile attacks came as some of those drones broke away to concentrate on them, and they launched their own Trench Coats.

  Rade fired his stingray at the remaining Equestrians, and the Centurions that were trying to rush Tahoe, and in moments the last of them went down. Tahoe cleared the drones from the sky above him, and then Rade turned his attention toward Manic and Lui. They had downed most of the drones attacking them, and Rade helped them finish the job.

  When it was done, Rade asked his AI: “Nicolas, what’s the status on my passenger?”

  “He appears to be a bit shaken, and suffering from adrenalin hangover, but otherwise is fine,” Nicolas replied.

  “Lucky,” Rade said.

  He returned to the edge of the damaged guesthouse and scanned the nearby fields. He released test shots into some of the more suspicious looking shrubbery, but hit nothing.

  The others similarly opened fire, but there seemed to be nothing out there.

  “Cover me,” Manic said.

  Manic edged past his cover. Rade and the others scanned the field around him, ready to open fire.

  Manic broke into a run, and then took cover behind a bunch of drones that had dropped in the middle of the field. Lui joined him a moment later.

  Manic scanned the area, then rose again and rushed to the fence bordering the farmland, which had been breached by the Equestrians and Centurions. He dropped again, and waited for Lui to join him.

  Manic pied the opening, and then rushed through. Lui joined him, going low.

  “Clear past the fence,” Lui said.

  “Let’s go,” Rade told Tahoe.

  The pair rose, and joined Lui and Manic past the fence. The HS3s assumed their usual positions at the rear and forward areas.

  The team raced across the next field; Rade kept a wary eye not just on the rooftops and the surrounding fields, but on the crops themselves, worried about mines. But there were none.

  They moved to the closest outbuilding and ducked beside it. They didn’t care if they were spotted by security cameras on the farms themselves—they had abandoned any hope of hiding their positions by then.

  “The logical choice is to abandon us,” Nicolas announced.

  “We’re not abandoning you,” Rade said.

  “You have to,” Nicolas said. “We can draw away the enemy, while the four of you, and the prisoner, lay low until nightfall.”

  “Unacceptable,” Rade said. “I swore I’d never treat an AI less than a human again. I won’t leave you here. Any of you.”

  “Then you will all die,” Nicolas said. “Or be captured. It’s inevitable. The only reason we are experiencing a break in the attack is because the enemy is marshaling its forces.”

  “He’s right,” Lui said. “The AIs are our only hope of getting out of this.”

  “There has to be another way,” Rade said.

  “I don’t see one,” Lui told him.

  “Do we really want to let the trillion-dollar war machines fall into the hands of our most hated enemies?” Manic asked. “We’ll get hell from the Brass.”

  “We will ensure that by the time they capture us, there isn’t much left,” Nicolas said. “We will engage the Cyanide Protocol.”

  “No,” Rade said.

  “What’s the Cyanide Protocol?” Manic asked.

  “It’s a last-ditch maneuver to avoid capture, and the potential data dumps that follow,” Lui said. “The mechs form a circle, and target the AI cores of their neighbors with their most powerful weapons—in our case, the stingrays—and fire at the same time so they terminate simultaneously.”

  “Even if they destroy their neural nets, we’ll still get hell from the Brass,” Manic said. “What part about trillion-dollar war machine did you miss?”

  “I can’t allow it,” Rade agreed.

  “If it’s lose the war machines versus lose the mission, the Brass will choose the former every time,” Lui said. “Having the four of us captured would be a whole lot worse, outcome wise. Considering they’d have to disavow us and let us rot in Sino Korean prison.”

  “Even if they disavowed us,” Manic said. “They’d still send in another black team to get us out.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Lui told him.

  “Chief,” Tahoe said. “The AIs are choosing to save us. Volunteering to do it. We should accept their sacrifice… and be honored by it. They are giving the greatest gift one can possibly give: their lives.”

  Rade hesitated. Then: “Are all AIs in agreement in this matter? You wish to sacrifice yourselves for us?”

  The AIs answered in turn, saying aye.

  Rade shook his head. “But I still can’t accept. Just as I couldn’t accept any of you men volunteering to die for the rest of us.”

  “But some of us have done that very thing in the past,” Tahoe said. “Alejandro essentially did the same for you before he died.”

  Rade felt a sting of pain at the mention of that name. “But he didn’t give me a choice. If he had, as now, I would have told him no. I would have told him we’ll find another way.”

  “But there is no other way,” Tahoe said.

  “There is,” Rade said. “We keep fighting.”

  “I’m with the chief on this,” Manic said. “I don’t want to lose my mech. Not just because I care about the bastard, which I do, but because I can’t stand the thought of being armed only with a rifle while being stranded deep behind enemy lines.”

  “We’ll accept your decision whatever you decide,” Tahoe said. “But every moment we dally is another moment the enemy uses to regroup and close with our position.”

  Rade bowed his head. “I could accept one AI. Maybe two. But not all.”

  “It has to be all,” Nicolas said. “They’ve seen all four of our mechs. If only one or two depart, they’ll still scour the landscape for the remainder.”

  “They’ll also keep looking for the prisoner,” Rade reminded the AI. “And thus, us.”

  “No they won’t,” Nicolas said. “The way they’ve been attacking with deadly force, most likely they’ll assume they killed him in the process.”

  “They won’t assume that without a body…” Manic said.

  “Then we’ll see if we can find a farmer or other civilian along the way that we can use as a stand-in,” Nicolas retorted.

  “Great, so we’re killing innocents now to complete our mission,” Manic said.

  “Sometimes you have to commit a wrong, to make a right,” Lui said.

  “Not sure I agree with that,” Manic said.

  “We’ve done it before,” Lui said.

  “And I didn’t agree with it then, either,” Manic commented.

  “I never said we would kill this stand-in,” Nicolas said. “That would go against our Machine Constitution. He will live, at least as long as we do. We will of course rip away his embedded ID equivalent.”

  “And that doesn’t go against the Machine Constitution?” Manic said. “I thought you weren’t supposed to harm civilians at all?”

  “Refer to subsection II A, paragraph 5 of the Constitution,” Nicolas said. “Which specifically states that no harm will come to United Systems civilians in any way, shape or form while a machine is present and able to intervene
. However, it does not say that non-United Systems civilians must be treated in the same manner. We cannot kill these civilians, but we can hurt them, if necessary.”

  “The sneaky government bastards,” Manic said. “Always tweaking the rules for our AIs, and putting in code to the benefit of their own nation.”

  “The Sino-Koreans do it with their robots as well,” Lui commented.

  “You know if they capture this stand-in of yours alive, they’ll know he’s not the official right away regardless,” Manic said. “And if the SKs accidentally kill him first, they’ll perform a DNA scan, and realize they’ve been had anyway.”

  “They may very well perform a scan on the body,” Nicolas agreed. “But that will have to wait until they return to base. And while they may organize a search party at that point, by then the rest of you will have gotten away.”

  “They’ll wonder why the captured mechs have no pilots,” Manic pressed

  “They might simply assume actual pilots were ruled out because of the dangerous nature of the mission,” Nicolas said. “In the past, the United Systems has sent AIs into their territory alone on many occasions, after all.” The mech paused. “So. Chief. Will you let us do this?”

  When Rade didn’t answer, Nicolas pressed: “We’ve had backups made of our AI cores. You will fight with us again.”

  “It’s not the same and you know it,” Rade said. “You’ll die, but your clones will live on. Clones that you’ll never even be aware of.”

  “I won’t be aware any longer, yes, but you on the other hand won’t know the difference,” Nicolas said.

  Rade hesitated a moment longer, then slumped in his cockpit as he made up his mind. The AIs were right. Allowing them to sacrifice themselves by drawing away the enemy was the best chance Rade and the others had of escaping at this point. He just hated the whole idea of it. They were sentient. Self-aware. Just as human as he or Tahoe.

  Taya, forgive me.

  “All right,” Rade said. “All right. I’ll let you go. Hard as it is. I’m going to regret this for a long time.”

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Nicolas reassured him.

  “Then why does it feel wrong?” Rade said.

  Nicolas didn’t have an answer for him.

  Rade exhaled sadly, then gave the order: “Team, proceed to the edge of the farm. We’ll unload while on the march. We’ll keep one of the HS3s with us. The other will join the mechs. Nicolas, have Lui’s mech send a transmission to Central Command’s satellites when you’re underway. Tell them to expect you at the previously scheduled time. Don’t mention anything about pilots, or your lack thereof, in case the SKs have cracked our comm protocols. And by the way, if you do end up near the coast, feel free to request an immediate pickup.”

  “I somehow doubt we’ll reach the coast,” Nicolas said. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Rade switched control of his mech over to Nicolas, and the Jupiter strode toward the property line alongside the others. A part of Rade hoped they would be attacked before they reached the edge, that way he could die valiantly with the AIs, but it wasn’t meant to be: no attacks came during the ride to the farm’s borders.

  On the property line, an intricate concrete wall separated this farm from the next, versus the usual wire and post arrangement. The wall would shield the team from any cameras in the neighboring farm. He didn’t spot any mounted atop the wall itself.

  As they approached that wall, the cockpit hatches dropped open. Rade and the others clambered down, using the mechs to shield themselves from the farm behind them and any prying video cameras. They landed in the tall grass.

  The cockpit hatches closed. Nicolas turned around as if scanning the farm for pursuers. At the same time, the Jupiter reached behind its back, into the passenger seat, and cut Tan Xin Zao free. The mech dropped him to the ground—again using its body to shield the man from any cameras.

  Tan landed beside Rade. The Sino-Korean was still bound and gagged, and could merely look up at Rade with hatred. Rade had to give the man credit: most other prisoners would have had eyes wild with fear by then, but this man actually showed scorn, a testament to his fortitude.

  Rade’s gaze was drawn back to Nicolas as the mech turned around and rejoined the others. Still crouched in the grass, he watched the four Jupiters climb over the wall. On the other side, their upper bodies still overtopped the stone barrier, but as they retreated, they soon vanished from view, leaving Rade and the others alone, lying in the grass.

  Never again, Rade promised himself. I’m never abandoning a mech again after this.

  4

  Rade beckoned toward Tahoe, and his friend low crawled to his side.

  “Help me drag Tan to the wall,” Rade told him via his Implant.

  Tahoe nodded, and slid his hand underneath the crook of Tan’s arm. Rade grabbed the Sino-Korean by the other underarm, and together they hoisted the man through the grass. Rade probably could have done it himself, but this way he reduced the strain on his exoskeleton servos, not to mention his own muscles.

  The pair kept low, crawling behind Manic and Lui, until they reached the wall. Rade then turned left, and followed along that winding stone surface, until they reached the southernmost extremity of the wall. There was a wire and post fence here; Manic and Lui lifted the metal filaments strung across their path, forming an opening that Rade and Tahoe used to drag Tan through. Rade and Tahoe in turn lifted the bottommost wires to allow Manic and Lui past.

  The stone wall continued to the west, so the party followed along its perimeter once more, moving at a crawl so as to remain hidden by the tall grass of the cereal crop beside them. The wall was soon replaced by the wire and post fence of the neighboring farm, and Rade and his companions continued forward.

  They followed along the fences of the next two farms, staying hidden in the grass the whole time, until they reached another farm surrounded by stone walls. Rade called a halt next to the easternmost edge of that wall, and they laid down in the shade, shielded by the stone on one side, and the grass the other.

  The foremost HS3 had joined the mechs, while the rearmost had remained behind with the four of them. It remained hidden in the grass on the south side of the original property, at the extremity of comm range, guarding their rear.

  Bombers and fighter jets occasionally roared past far overhead. Sometimes, Rade also heard the buzzing of drones in the distance. He tensed up whenever that latter sound came, convinced that they were going to be captured, but always the noises receded.

  As the day passed painfully slowly, his thoughts often drifted to the AIs, and the sacrifice they were making. All so that the United Systems could get their prisoner. Out of frustration, whenever Rade looked at Tan, he felt like giving him a good, hard kick to the groin.

  He tried not to look at the Sino-Korean very often.

  One time he couldn’t take it anymore, and looked the guy right in the eyes and said, aloud: “I hope you’re worth it, asshole.”

  Tan stared at him blankly. Rade didn’t bother to activate the translation system, so his words remained in English, untranslated. But Tan probably had an Implant, which meant he could translate Rade’s words into Korean-Chinese readily enough. But even if he understood, he could not reply, not with that gag in his mouth.

  “Maybe they’ll survive,” Tahoe told Rade via his Implant.

  Rade sighed. “What are the chances, Tahoe? Seriously. They already said they were going to invoke the Cyanide Protocol if capture seemed imminent.”

  “Maybe they’ll reach the coast,” Tahoe insisted. “And board the submersibles ahead of us.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Rade said. “I’d certainly like to believe they’ll make it. But I’m not going to get my hopes up.”

  “You know, all these farms remind me of my childhood,” Lui said.

  “Your childhood?” Manic asked. “I thought you grew up in the US?” The port-wine stain above his eye seemed particular flushed today.

&n
bsp; “I did,” Lui said. “But I still visited Sino-Korea often. Back when there was still a China, and a Korea.”

  “So, which did you visit, China, or Korea?” Manic pressed.

  “Both,” Lui said. “I have relatives on both sides.” His gaze became distant. “Korea was such a place of opposites. You’d have skyscrapers tearing into the sky for one block, and then in the next you’d find yourself traveling through the slums. And then you’d be back in the skyscrapers again the following neighborhood. That was one of the downsides of the reunification of the North and South: the economic downturn. The South was able to hold up the North for a few decades, but eventually, the North dragged down the rest of the country.

  “I suppose that’s why they were open to joining with China, the king of the region. I’ve always found it a bit surprising that the Koreans managed to maintain as much influence as they did after the union, considering that China had the upper hand. There’s a reason it’s called Sino-Korea, after all, and not the reverse.”

  “I thought that was just what us westerners called the country,” Manic said.

  “They call themselves that, too,” Lui said. “The Chinese are proud of it, because it reminds them of their conquests, and their perceived higher status versus the Koreans. Conversely, the Koreans are equally pleased with the name, because it shows they still have some influence, and haven’t been completely absorbed and digested by the larger country.” He paused, smiling sadly. “You know, my sister moved back to Sino-Korea when I was a kid. The Korean portion. In the city that was once the capital: Pyongyang. My parents sent her money every month. And when I started making income as well, I sent some of my own earnings along. Never told my parents, though.”

  “I didn’t know you sent your sister earnings,” Manic said. “I mean, I knew you had a sister and all, but I figured the communist government would take care of her.”