Mecha Samurai Empire (A United States of Japan Novel)

by Peter Tieryas

  I’m convinced Clarence will let the accountant get far enough so that he believes he’s free before sniping him in the back. But as his silhouette gets tinier, I realize, they’re really letting him go.

  It’s almost our turn. I think about my parents. Did they know when their moment had arrived?

  “I’m scared of dying,” I whisper to Botan.

  “Don’t be scared. I’m happy to die,” Botan replies.

  “Happy?”

  “Life’s a gamble. You win until you don’t. Then it’s shutout time. See you in the next life.”

  The two guards strip Botan of her clothing. I can’t bear to look in her direction.

  “You don’t know anything about being American,” Botan defiantly declares to Clarence. “Don’t dirty their name by saying you represent them.”

  “You’re so moral and righteous. I love it. It used to be a grand old flag, and now it’s just a dirty disgusting rag. You all began it by murdering my friends.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Just because the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand does doesn’t mean they’re not from the same body.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’ll find out what the hell that means soon.”

  He takes a pistol out of his belt and shoots Botan in the head.

  They remove my restraint, take off all my clothes. I can’t believe I was just talking to Botan a minute ago.

  Clarence points at her corpse, and asks, “She was your friend, right? I guess there’s no point in asking if you’ll join. I respect that.”

  He lifts his pistol to my head, and the barrel burns me, but then he stops.

  “Why do you have that?” he asks, examining my belly.

  I peer down and see the swastika. “What’s it to you?”

  “Are you working for the Germans?”

  “I’m a RAM.”

  Clarence tilts his head, confused. “I realize you’re a male sheep. But does that mean you’re an undercover agent for the Nazis?”

  “I’m n—”

  There is a huge explosion, and something begins firing on the biomech. The NARA members race toward their Javelins.

  Clarence grins at me, and says, “Tadao.”

  Beyond the train, on the other side of the canyon, I spot Chieko’s Crab tank. It’s followed by the stomping of three enormous Sentry mechas, matching strength and size with the biomech.

  Why couldn’t they have come just a few minutes earlier?

  I go to Botan’s body, try to turn her around. Part of her brain spills out through the opening in her head, and blood is everywhere. I try to clean her face, give her some final form of dignity, but I’m only making it worse, as the blood smears everywhere.

  I’m so sorry, Botan. I’m so damn sorry. I shouldn’t be alive. I should be dead. Now I have only one reason to live. To get revenge for you all: Spider, Sensei, Wren, Botan, Olympia, and all the other RAMs.

  “We are a pacification force from the United States of Japan,” a woman’s voice booms from the Sentry mecha. “Drop your weapons, and you will be taken alive. Resist, and you will be forcibly pacified.”

  The Sentry mechas have the toughest armor in the corps and move forward to fight the biomech. I put my clothes back on. An unnatural sound emanates from the Nazi monstrosity. Something resembling a black fog fumes out from its arms, and I realize these are the “gnats” I’d heard about, insectoid-shaped cannons with propellers. There are hundreds of them that swarm our Sentry mechas. The big mechas have a ball of a torso, bulky arms designed to withstand an array of armaments. When the gnats surround them, they charge their fists with electric volts and swat them away with ease. Even their attacks do minimal damage to the Sentry mechas.

  The NARA quickly get their forces into position. They’re led by one of the most unusual mechas I’ve ever seen. It’s an ostentatious robot, painted red, white, and blue with stars on its head. It moves almost like a wingless vulture and has a longer neck than other mechas I’ve seen, hunching as it walks, indicating a possible problem with the autobalance, unless, for an indiscernible reason, this is by design. It’s the helmet that gives the mecha its aviary features, a beaklike protrusion attached to the front. I can’t determine its strength from an initial glance because it’s probably scavenged from multiple mechas and fused by the NARA creed that drips in the colors of their old flag. On its side, there are the letters, FDR, which I presume is its name as well as a tribute to the last ruler of the old America. The FDR is a quarter of the height of the biomech and leads the party of twenty Javelins to fight our Sentry mechas.

  The first five Javelins are no match for our forces. One Sentry mecha punches a Javelin in its cannon, crushing it and causing the whole hull to collapse. The other Sentry mechas pummel the Javelins, not even bothering to unleash their arsenal. The shells the Javelins fire don’t make a dent on the armor. They seem to be even less effective than the gnats. After the initial assault fails, the Javelins withdraw. The FDR launches three gaudily painted missiles at the Sentry mechas. They use their shields to block most of the blast, and the explosion from one missile hitting the shield actually hurts a Javelin.

  The FDR sidles next to the biomech, waiting for the bigger beast to handle the hard work so it can eventually feast on metal carrion.

  I don’t think the biomech will fare any better, but I need to have an escape strategy in place. I think about rushing back to my Crab, but I don’t know if the auxiliary generators gave it enough juice so that it can still drive. I don’t need to ponder too long, as Chieko’s Crab finds me. A ladder drops, and I climb in.

  I’m so glad to see her and Poet. The other two aren’t there, and I wonder if she dropped them off.

  “Where’s Wren?” is the first thing she asks me. I can’t see her eyes underneath her goggles, but her lips are anxiously pinched together.

  It slowly comes back to me, the moment right before the NARA knocked me unconscious. Chieko sees me hesitating, and demands again, “Where is he?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “We—we were aboard, and I was trying to escape, but the NARA got in and they . . . they shot him.”

  “Where’s your Crab?” she asks.

  I point in the general direction. Navigation finds the exact spot. We speed toward it. Poet is at communications, and I ask, “How long did it take to get to Dallas?”

  “We actually didn’t go to Dallas,” Poet replies. “We met the Sentry mechas halfway there.”

  “What were they doing there?”

  “I think they were waiting for us.”

  Clarence had said there were only goose feathers on the train. That, combined with the Sentry mechas already waiting, and I feel convinced he was right that we were bait. But for what? The biomech?

  That idea gives birth to a small, cold fury that begins to swell inside of me.

  Poet taps me, hands me a towel. I wonder why, until I see him looking at my hands. They’re covered with Botan’s dried blood. He’s about to pour some water from the rations, but I decline. “Hygiene is important,” Poet reminds me.

  “Not right now,” I tell him. “Why is it only you two?”

  “The other three got in the Sentry. She came back for Wren, assuming the Sentry mechas would be too busy fighting to rescue him.”

  “And you?”

  “I can’t write poems about today if I’m not here to witness the ending.”

  I don’t know if he’s brave or out of his mind. Maybe poetry requires a little bit of both.

  Our Crab isn’t far, and when Chieko gets there, she takes off her gear.

  “I don’t advise you go out there,” Poet says to her. “I can’t pilot this if something happens to you.”

  Bu
t if she hears him, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She rushes for the hatch. I follow her as she climbs up the ladder and scrambles inside the Crab.

  I’m about to enter as well when I hear a loud crunching noise. Just past the train, the biomech has engaged our Sentry forces by charging straight into them. The ebony monster runs like it’s possessed and grapples the first Sentry in its way. The finlike structure seems to be giving it balance and the ability to move more quickly. The biomech pulls at the head of the Sentry, using its fusion dagger to sunder the connections to the body. The wire starts to split apart, sparks still charged while flopping like noodles. But the head doesn’t fully detach, even with the BPG tubes cut. The organic material on the biomech’s surface is amorphous, fluctuating and flexing like muscles. It’s almost as though its skin has an intelligence of its own, reacting to the tectonic shifts of the structure underneath. This is in contrast to the shiny armor of the Sentry mecha and the multiple lights flickering on and off. The animalistic intensity of the biomech seems to be overwhelming the samurai’s patient and careful approach. The Nazi monster kicks the Sentry in its belly, which causes the rotund shell to cave inward in the shape of a foot. The biomech pounds on the mecha repeatedly, while the two Sentries circle around to try to flank it and not hurt their fellow mecha.

  That’s when the biomech tears the head off the Sentry it has in its grip. I’m shocked, and so are the two other mechas as they both come to a complete stop. These Sentry mechas are defensive stalwarts, and from what I’ve studied, not a single one has been lost in battle. Until now.

  The biomech tosses the Sentry’s head, makes a fist, then punches straight into the orifice where the head used to be, destroying everything from the neck down. Whoever the crew was, they’re dead now. The Sentry’s autobalance keeps it standing as the biomech moves to confront the remaining two mechas. The gnats deluge the opening, presumably to target any possible survivors.

  I can’t believe how quickly the biomech disposed of our mecha. The second Sentry raises both its arms. Its hands rotate away from the wrists, leaving an opening in the forearm where two cannons emerge. It fires multiple acidic shells. (I recall acidic incinerators were effective in the past.) But there is no effect on the biomech. It looks like the Germans have found a way to defend against it. The Sentry changes to regular shells, letting loose a deadly shower. The biomech’s chest gets perforated, and it stumbles. The two mechas sense weakness and close in.

  I climb into the Crab and see Chieko with Wren. Wren has two bullet holes in his head and isn’t breathing. Chieko is holding him. She does not cry, but her eyes are consumed by rage. I look to Spider and Olympia, necks still twisted all wrong. Damn.

  “You didn’t keep your promise,” she says to me.

  “I did my best.”

  “You’re still alive!” she shouts. “You saved your own ass, but let him die.”

  “It’s not like that. I tried. I really tried.”

  “Then why is everyone dead but you?”

  “Chieko.”

  “Don’t say my name!” She holds Wren’s corpse more closely. “You ordered me to leave! I should have stayed and helped.”

  “You would have been killed like everyone else,” I reply.

  “You think I care about death?” she yells. “You think I’m afraid for my life? The reason I left was because I trusted you and I believed leaving would save more lives.”

  “So did I.”

  “You were wrong.”

  I can’t deny it. “The biomech is—”

  “I don’t give a damn about the biomech!”

  “It just destroyed a Sentry!”

  That startles her, but her anger quickly overtakes her. “I don’t care if I die here. At least I’ll die with dignity and not abandon my friends.”

  “I didn’t abandon them. You didn’t see what happened.”

  “I’ve seen enough,” she scoffs.

  “What was I supposed to do? We were ambushed.”

  “The least you could do was try to avenge them!” she exclaims.

  “I’ll make the person responsible for this pay,” I tell her.

  “Will you?” she asks, a bitter and taunting tone in her voice.

  “Look at our tank!” I reply. “I was trying to power it back up when the NARA took us away.”

  “It looks fine to me.”

  I glance over at the console. The auxiliary generator must have gotten the BPG working again. There’s power humming through the Crab.

  “Chieko! Cream! We have trouble,” Poet warns us through the communicator.

  I check outside the opening. The FDR is heading our way. Past him, the biomech is fighting both Sentry mechas in fierce hand-to-hand combat. There are orifices all over the biomech from our mecha attacks, but those holes are regenerating. Every time there’s a heavy blow, the ground trembles. On the back shoulder of one Sentry, I spot a name: Fuka. I wonder if Izzy and Orwell are inside.

  “The NARA mecha is coming our way,” I tell Chieko.

  “They’re the ones who shot him?” Chieko asks me.

  “Yes.”

  She stands up, marches back to her Crab. I’m about to follow her, but she angrily warns me, “Don’t come into my mecha.”

  I get off the ladder. Just as she’s about to enter the hatch, the FDR aims its cannon and fires a missile. The FDR must have an interchangeable system that swaps between shells and missiles. It’s propelled directly from the gun and foldout fins open up, its engine igniting. The missile hits just as Chieko closes the hatch. I can’t tell the extent of the damage from below, so I rush back into my Crab and message Poet.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the familiar voice of Clarence gleefully replies back. “Normally, this is the part where I’d tell you you’re hopelessly outgunned, but I don’t advise you surrender as I’ll kill you if you do.”

  Chieko’s Crab isn’t moving.

  It’ll be too difficult to pilot the Crab upside down. I grab the tank’s portical and turn on the remote control to relay navigation and weapons into the interface. It’s not as intuitive or easy to control, but I have no choice. I check if I can connect with Chieko’s Crab for a more secure way to communicate. I don’t get a link with her tank, but a connection is made to a different one. I do a visual search and realize it’s the fifth Crab tank, which was hawsered to the last car in the train and has no one on board.

  Can I take remote control of that crab? Has it been damaged? All I see on my portical are weapon controls for the fifth crab. That might be enough. There’s also the self-destruct sequence. The tank is still wired in with the train. Blowing it up could potentially set off a chain reaction, destroying the entire thing. Is that a smart thing to do considering our primary mission was to protect the train?

  Chieko’s tank still isn’t moving. Did she get hurt? The FDR is getting closer. According to the navigation, the Javelins are splayed around the train.

  I take a deep, long breath. I look at Spider, Olympia, and Wren.

  My rage calms me. Everything slows.

  I input the overrides to trigger the self-destruct in the fifth tank. It’s almost instantaneous, causing an implosion in the Bradlium Particle Generator that blows up the Crab from within. The shells inside exacerbate the blast. The rear part of the train follows suit as the cars begin to explode like a trail of fiery dominos. Their interconnectedness makes the devastation far worse. Goose feathers are everywhere, mixing with the debris and train parts raining down.

  The explosion rattles the FDR, destroys four neighboring Javelins, and damages five others. This is my moment to pounce. At least I hope. I have only four legs, but even if I had six, I don’t know if I could pilot this thing inverted.

  “Very naughty thing you did there!” Clarence declares.

  “You’re next,” I repl
y to him, no longer caring who hears us.

  “I’ve heard those exact same words, oh, twenty-eight times. Sorry, twenty-nine. Well played, friend. Didn’t know you had that trick up your arse. But you would have been better served if you’d waited until I was closer to the train so you could have actually damaged me.”

  “Are you always this annoying?” I ask him.

  Clarence laughs in a coarse tone. “To my enemies, I am the eternal bedbug.”

  I place commands into the portical so that my Crab’s legs are rotating. I rotate them backward so that instead of pointing upward like the legs on a dead roach, they’ve swung downward. They make contact with the ground, and I cautiously lift the hull. It rises, and the balance is maintained. I take a step forward, then another. It’s confusing doing everything in reverse, but at least I know it’ll work.

  The FDR fires four missiles at me.

  I accelerate toward the other side of the train. Manually controlling each step on the portical is laborious, but I have no choice, as it looks like the missiles are following me. I clamber through the train debris, hoping the armor will shield me from the fire even with the hole in my side. Smoke seeps into the opening, and the interior gets flooded. I cough involuntarily, and my nostrils smell of ash. The first missile hits the remains of a car next to me. I keep on moving, and the missiles lose my signature in the destroyed train. Unfortunately, I’m also essentially blind as my scans have gone haywire and the visual feed is fire and smoke.

  I cough again and search for a gas mask. If I hide in here too long, my lungs will be poisoned.

  Clarence asks me, “You think you can hide in there forever?”

  No. But if he keeps on talking, I may be able to calculate his location through a triangulation process based on the source of his communication signal.

  “I once hid from imperial soldiers like you did,” he continues. “Hoping they’d forget me. Some did, but your assassin, Bloody Mary, didn’t. My family paid the price for my foolishness.”

  I have his location, which is just ahead of me. If I jump out now, I should be able to catch him off guard. I pop out through the smoke, but he’s not there. He’s several meters ahead of me, cannon fixed, which he fires. The blast rips another hole in the hull.