Mecha Samurai Empire (A United States of Japan Novel)

by Peter Tieryas

  “Are you okay?” I hear over the communicator.

  To my left, it’s Noriko. I see my image reflected on the other side of the portical display feed. I look like a wet mop.

  “I—I—” My throat is dry, and I have a hard time answering.

  “Take a deep breath,” she tells me. “Get yourself oriented.”

  Her voice calms me, and I take a few slow breaths. As wingmate, she provides reconnaissance and auxiliary help. Even if I die, if she survives and gets word back about the attack, it’s technically considered a successful mission. So a big part of my task is to ensure her safety as well. That’s when the cockpit turns red, and an emergency communication from an officer I don’t recognize comes in. The test has started.

  “Dallas is under attack. We don’t know how many hostiles there are. We require immediate assistance.”

  I’m about to reply when something batters me from behind. My scapula takes a bruising blow that hurts like hell, the whole mecha shaking violently. I try to move my left leg, but the control is stuck. On my screen, the diagnostic sends up a blip, warning me that I’ve been attacked and my hind leg has been blasted. The circuitry is disconnected. I thought moving before was hard. Now, trying to drag myself forward with only three limbs, it is arduous to even stand. I want to run away, hide, and the pain on my back is spreading. This is not at all what I imagined the simulation would be like. The sweating intensifies. My head is spinning. I realize, I cannot handle this. I am not capab—

  “Mac!” Noriko yells to me. “What’s your command?”

  Command? Get the hell out of here as soon as possible. But I can’t even get this damn thing to move.

  “A-are you damaged at all?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “My scans indicate your rear left leg is busted.”

  How is she so collected? Even with experience, I don’t think I could ever get used to this. What was I thinking, wanting to become a mecha pilot? This is just a simulation, and I already want to run out of the cockpit and wave the flag.

  Another message comes in for me from a stranger. “We’re under direct attack,” the man says. “We’ve already lost eighteen soldiers. We need assistance!”

  Cutting to another message of a bloodied officer. “Help us, help u—” The link gets disconnected.

  “Why aren’t you here yet?” a voice roars at me.

  My shoulder hurts more and more. I’m going to throw up if I don’t get out of here. I want to abort the test, and there isn’t a single reason I shouldn’t. No one expects me to do well on this. Why even fight on? Hideki was supposed to be here with me. But if he had been, it would have been worse. Neither of us had any idea that the exam was going to be this hard. It hurts so much, I could swear my back is covered with blood.

  I suddenly remember what Hideki said to me, how he wanted to leave this life. He died because he wanted change so badly. I feel ashamed at the thought of giving up without even trying.

  I check the scanners. There is nothing to indicate a hostile presence. Who is attacking? Historically, it’s the Germans. But why aren’t they showing up on the sensors? Thermal tracking should detect them.

  I wish I hadn’t eaten those eggs this morning. The taste is rancid in my throat. I want to wipe the sweat off my head, but my arms are locked to the controls. I’m scared that if I let go, my mecha will topple over.

  I look over the map again. Even though I’ve studied this battle, it feels different now that I’m actually here. Why haven’t the Germans continued their assault? They should have already destroyed me. Then I wonder, Am I even their target?

  “Noriko,” I call. “Do you get a lock on any of the Nazis?”

  “I don’t,” she says.

  How’s that possible? In history, the biomechs went straight after the quad mechas.

  “Why are you moving so slowly?” she asks.

  “This thing weighs a ton.”

  She appears confused.

  “This is normal, isn’t it?” I confirm with her.

  “The calibration seems off. A lot heavier than normal today.”

  I want to ask Noriko what I should do. Which I technically can. But that’ll be recorded in my performance. If I lose command and am out of control, I’ll be scored accordingly.

  “I’m under attack,” Noriko says, and her screen shakes. “This isn’t right.”

  “What?”

  “The safety restrictions are disabled,” she states.

  “They are?”

  “That blow hurt. There must be something malfunctioning on the simulation. We have to end it.”

  “Right now?”

  “I highly recommend you disengage.”

  I click the safety release, but nothing happens. I try to turn off the program, but it won’t let me. “I can’t.”

  “Actually, neither can I.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “It means you can really get hurt in this. I’m trying to contact the admin—”

  My alert signals flash. Something is incoming.

  “Behind you!” Noriko warns me.

  A force slams into me. My right arm feels like it’s been torn out of its socket. The interface informs me that my mecha’s limb has been destroyed. A flurry of blows comes quickly at me, causing me to tumble to the ground. I lose track of what control does what, though I instinctively try to coil up so I can protect myself. All I can do is react to the blows, and I’m not even able to do that as the armor caves in. My belly is getting a pounding, and it feels like the real thing. What if I take permanent damage, not just in the test, but to my body? I just want it to end. What else can I do? Theoretically, I should order Noriko to flee with news of the battle so it won’t be a total failure. But that seems pointless as it won’t save the test results, and the only way the exam will end is with my mecha’s death.

  The speed of all the attacks reminds me in this strange way of Cat Odyssey, when all the humans defeated me. What was it Hideki said? “Change the battlefield, or avoid the fight.”

  I can’t avoid the fight. But is there any way I can change the battlefield?

  My rear turrets are disabled. My main guns are damaged. I’m missing a leg and an arm. I try to see if I have remote control over them. I don’t. Escaping for me is out of the question.

  “I’m coming your way,” Noriko says.

  “No!” I shout. “Get out of here.”

  “Forget the test. If I don’t stop that thing, you’ll be injured in real life.”

  “I’ll be fine! Just make your escape.”

  At least it won’t be an automatic failure. But I also want to test something.

  There is something unusually fierce in these attacks. I know the programming could imitate the emotional charge of a German. But it should consider in its calculations that I’m maimed and have no chance of fighting anymore if it chooses to disengage me. Therefore, chasing after Noriko’s mecha to prevent her from escaping would be the most efficient use of its strength. But the fact that I’m still getting hit makes me think there’s a human behind the controls. They know letting Noriko escape means nothing aside from a cursory test pass.

  Why can’t I see the biomech? It must be wearing some type of camouflage or optic armor. The mecha will be destroyed with a few more blows. Instead of trying to protect myself, I lift up my hand and raise the middle finger. I know I’m opening myself to an attack, but I want to provoke the enemy pilot, whoever it may be. An AI wouldn’t care about the gesture. But a human would, and I feel the furious forward plunge. It must be human. I’m convinced the removal of safety restrictions wasn’t an accident. Whoever is on the other side wants to hurt me. That thought enrages me, and I no longer care if I pass or fail. I just want to make whoever it is suffer for taking me so lightly.

  The moment the next punch makes impact, I see a refraction as my
armor dents inward. With my one good arm, I try to latch onto it. Surprisingly, my arm makes contact, gripping its wrist. I have only one source of attack. I beat down on the arm with my head, bashing it as many times as I can. It destroys most of my mecha’s exterior, and I feel the outside air. But the sense of injustice helps me feel a clarity I haven’t in a long time. There’s a surge, a burst, and all of a sudden, the biomech’s arm splits in half. The optic armor breaks down, and I see something that looks like a gigantic, faceless bear. Its whole skin is covered with a black fluid that is morphing on its surface. It’s as big as my quad mecha. The ebony exterior is like liquid marble, replenishing itself and gorging on its own flesh.

  I hop toward it and try to smash my arm into its side. It’s too quick and skips back. I miss and topple over. My quad mecha crashes into the ground. The whole side of my face hurts, and my head is still spinning from the head-butting I carried out earlier. But I try to minimize the pain and focus on the fight. The biomech is behind me, ready to stomp. I see my broken arm on the ground ahead of me, grab it, and wield it as a club to fend off its attack. One of the flails hits the biomech across the leg, causing it to crunch sideways. Its knee buckles. I have an opening to attack. I hurtle the quad mecha at the biomech and pounce as deeply as I can into its chest. I don’t want to just damage it. I want to lodge my whole arm in its torso so it can’t escape. At least not until I destroy it. But just as I succeed in penetrating its chest, my alarms blare. From behind, two new biomechs appear. I ignore them and use my one good arm to pound the biomech in the face as hard as I can. The last thing I feel is two explosives destroying my back.

  The test stops. I get a text notice in wavering bloody red against a black screen: “You are dead.”

  The safety belts unlock. I manage to step out, but fall as soon as I do. Something is wrong with my legs. I can’t move my right arm. I feel blurry and sit on the ground. At least it’s over.

  I feel silly that I got into a personal match with my opponent. My imagined slight and vendetta only got my mecha destroyed. But I also feel peace with myself that I gave it my best shot.

  The door to my compartment opens, and I’m expecting the administrative officer or Noriko. But instead, it’s Lieutenant Yukimura, the officer who visited the school a week ago and questioned whether I was fit for the exam. Something is wrong with his arm, and his hair is wet with blood.

  “What’d you think you were doing back there?” he angrily demands.

  I’m still sitting, unable to get to my feet. “What do you mean?”

  “You broke the rules!”

  “What rules? What are you talking about?”

  “You are a disgrace to everything the corps stands for. You don’t know anything about piloting. Your performance was sloppy and lacked any understanding of how we work,” Lieutenant Yukimura snaps at me. “Your entire test was clumsy and uninspired. And I heard about what your friend did. Your attempt to even take the test is an insult to the entire corps.”

  I’m shocked by his words. I don’t know what to reply. I sputter out the first words that come to mind: “There was a malfunction. The safety restrictions were disabled. I—I just wasn’t ready for the physical impact.”

  “I disabled them.”

  “W-why?”

  “To give you a taste of what mecha piloting is really like!” he shouts.

  Then I was right. He was baiting me, wanting to hurt me. But that meant my test was damned from the beginning. How could I have a chance when I was fighting pain as much as the challenge of the test? “What do you have against me?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.

  “Not you. I only care about preserving the honor of the corps. You’re not fit to be a candidate and shouldn’t have taken the test.”

  “I can’t even try?”

  He shakes his head. “You sully our honor with your attempt.”

  I blink several times, incredulous. “My parents died serving the Empire. My friend died because he wanted a better life in the Empire. And you’re telling me I can’t even honor their memory by taking this test?” I’m so angry, I want to cry.

  “If you wanted to honor their memory, you should have known your place.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Not in the corps.”

  He turns around and stomps out.

  Fueled by anger, I take off my test equipment and stand to exit the booth. Noriko is waiting for me.

  “He had no right to say what he did,” she says.

  “You heard?” I ask her.

  “I did.”

  I feel so embarrassed, especially after she deigned to support me. “I’m sorry I wasted your help. You have no idea how much it means that you were my wingmate.”

  “That last part was some of the best mecha piloting I’ve seen in the simulation.”

  I appreciate her trying to cheer me up. But my mind is on how much the lieutenant did not want me to get into BEMA. He wanted to humiliate me, which he’s succeeded in doing. It is a sobering thought to realize how despised I am. I tell Noriko, “It’s not my fate to be a mecha pilot.”

  “Fate has nothing to do with it,” she says. “You broke the lieutenant’s arm.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I could see it. That’s why he’s so angry. Don’t let him get you down. You’ll find a place in the corps regardless of what he says.”

  “Thank you.”

  She shakes her head. “I wanted to help. I was very sorry to hear about Hideki. It’s not easy losing a good friend, no matter the reason.”

  She salutes me, and I do the same back. She exits. I hold my salute gratefully until the medic arrives, and asks, “Are you saluting the air?”

  * * *

  • • •

  A week later, my body has recovered even though my mind is still troubled. We’re in class when the scores flash on all our porticals. I scored a little above average on the standard exams, which isn’t a surprise. I have a good idea of what the results of the mecha test are, but I have to check anyway. I skip through the different orbits and scour the combat scores. I look to the top of the list. Noriko is #1, and I’m genuinely happy for her. I send her a message telling her so. I go through the rest of the list and scroll down. Way down. Not only have I missed the top one hundred, but I find my name two places above the bottom of the list, those two being students who didn’t show up. I’ve failed miserably.

  Close by, someone lets out a shriek of joy. She has ranked #3 in our entire class. Depending on her military scores and recommendation, that means she’s guaranteed to get into BEMA. For Noriko, her #1 placement additionally means definite entry into the University of Tokyo and Kyoto University.

  With my score, attending a university is out of the question. At most, I might get into one of the remote private colleges. I do have the option of going rōnin, which means waiting an extra year and taking the exam again, like Sango. But my prospects aren’t great. Every happy cheer from a fellow student feels bitter. I wonder how Sango is. I haven’t seen her or heard from her since Hideki. I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk.

  I go to a café and order a green tea. It scares me to think that if I’d gone along with Hideki’s plan, I’d either be in prison or dead. Having gone through the simulation test, it’s tough for me to stomach, but I know the truth now. I’m not meant to be a pilot. As the lieutenant stated, I don’t have what it takes. Even if we had successfully cheated, it would only have delayed my inevitable exposure as someone incapable of piloting a mecha. It’s tough to come to terms with my own insufficiencies.

  I step outside to take a walk. I was completely overwhelmed in the simulation. Pain made the test unbearable, and in a real-life mecha fight, it’d have been much worse. Contrast my anxious state of panic with how calm Noriko remained, and it’s clear she has the types of nerves I can only aspire to.

  I p
ass through a garden, and there’s a lake filled with water lilies and lotus. Tadpoles flee from dragonflies, ducks nibble for food, and koi fish wander haphazardly. I keep on thinking about my failure. I wanted desperately to do well. A part of it was for Hideki, and an even bigger part was for the memory of my parents. But the biggest? I wanted my life to have more meaning, to be about more than just getting by, subsisting at some desk job if I’m lucky. My exam scores make even that a low probability. I make a ball with my fist, put the flat end on the bridge of my nose, and take a deep breath. How humiliating to be such a loser, a laughingstock in front of everyone.

  I wish I’d never wanted to be a mecha pilot.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next few weeks are a dreary buzz. I’m not sleeping, but I don’t feel awake. I have nothing to look forward to other than the possibility of another year of school, and I doubt my scores will go up any. My usual source of comfort, the arcade, brings back too many memories of Hideki. Most of the games seem vacuous now anyway. I spend my evenings wandering the city. Outside the school gate, the reconnaissance mecha, Taka, is still there so those who got accepted into the military academy can practice. I feel like it’s taunting me. I’ll never get to drive a mecha, so any joy the sight of it used to bring feels like a jab.

  Griselda has left me multiple messages, but I haven’t returned any of her calls. I don’t know what to say to her. I hate going to class because most of the other seniors are talking about their university plans and how they’re preparing for the new year. Many are shipping out to other countries in the Empire, looking forward to time abroad. I know this disappointment would be more bearable if Hideki were here. Misery doesn’t just love company; it desperately craves it.

  In a few months, my governmental support will end. If I don’t continue with school, I’ll need to find a new home and a means of supporting myself. There aren’t many options for a student without a university degree. A military path as an enlisted soldier is one of them. But I feel ashamed that I couldn’t be an officer like my parents. Most students get tons of support from their family—and not just financial support, but social contacts and connections. I’ve gotten none. I’ve had to fight for everything, and I feel like I’ve reached my limit. There’s no way for me to go forward anymore. Instead, I can only brace myself for a steep decline.