Powered (Mech Wars Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  At last, Peter’s shoulders slumped. He hadn’t meant for them to, but his energy had suddenly bottomed out; his resolve vanished. “I haven’t been alone, out here,” he muttered, staring at the shuttle’s deck. “I’ve had Jake.”

  “And you won’t be alone going forward. You’ll be able to hire a proper crew.” Bronson smiled, and when he looked up, Peter saw a glint of victory amidst all the feigned sympathy. “I only want one chance. No one will be forced to do anything. If he doesn’t want to join, he doesn’t want to join, and you’ll still get your money. Even if he says no.”

  But Peter knew there was zero chance of Jake saying no. He was effectively signing over his son to save his daughter. But maybe, just maybe, Jake would be okay in the Darkstream military.

  He didn’t really believe that. But perhaps telling himself it would help him sleep at night.

  “All right,” he said.

  Chapter 6

  Mind on the Mission

  Chief Banks gave Gabe command of most of Allendale’s garrison, as well as full access to her arsenal. Plus an old tank, which would likely prove next to useless in the forest terrain.

  Banks clearly didn’t like giving him all that, but she didn’t have much choice. Darkstream wanted that Ambler put down.

  The giant machine wasn’t hard to track. Their usual routes were well-known. They followed Gatherer paths, and Gabe could call those up on his HUD at will.

  Of course, that wouldn’t do him much good today, because the Ambler had clearly deviated from its programming. Much better to simply use the eyes God had given him, to look at the swath of felled trees that stretched into the distance. They followed that.

  Amblers were still as much a mystery to Darkstream as the Gatherers were, along with whoever had made them. When the company’s nerds had heard about Gabe and his unit felling one, so many years ago, they’d gotten pretty excited—until they’d learned that Gabe hadn’t left much of the thing to study.

  What bits of intact circuitry they’d been able to extract had remained inscrutable to them, as far as he knew. Of course, Darkstream wasn’t in the business of trumpeting its discoveries. Knowledge was power, and by sharing knowledge, you gave up some power. The company had known that for a long time, and they’d gotten an especially harsh lesson in the truism right before coming to this galaxy.

  Either way, Gabe felt fairly confident that Darkstream hadn’t figured out how to reproduce the Amblers’ lasers. Humanity had been using lasers in space for years to great effect, but hadn’t quite figured out how to make them work inside a planet’s atmosphere, where a phenomenon called thermal blooming heated the air and caused the laser beam to spread out, neutering its destructive potential.

  When it reached the woods, the tank was able to progress a few meters into the trees, but no farther. That didn’t come as a surprise.

  The trees knocked down by the Ambler had likely posed little problem to it—the metal colossus could simply step right over the fallen trunks. Not so, the tank.

  Gabe ordered the vehicle back to Allendale while he and his team clambered under and over the weird trees, heads and guns swinging to and fro, HUDs on full-alert.

  The trees still seemed weird to him. Their cascading waves of bare branches like gnarly fingers, all pointing down at the ground. At the Quatro dens far below, maybe.

  And that mildew smell. You couldn’t get away from it, not even when you cut the trees back a mile—which every village did, as part of basic defense—not even when you went indoors.

  I guess it’s better than living on Alex. Small consolation, but it was something.

  Sometimes, he missed the Milky Way, though he’d never admit it to anyone. That was not a thing you advertised in the Steele System. Not if you didn’t want to become a total pariah.

  That said, on occasion, becoming a pariah seemed like kind of an attractive idea.

  “Hey,” a young seaman apprentice said as he emerged from underneath a canopy of branches nearby. “Do you ever think about the day you set foot on Eresos? Kind of crazy, isn’t it, to think you were the first one to—”

  Gabe shoved the kid, sending him reeling back a step and nearly causing him to tip backward into the foliage.

  “Keep your mind on the mission,” Gabe barked. “Chief Banks didn’t mention she was sending any morons along with me. If any of the rest of you happen to be morons, I recommend you conceal that fact by keeping your stupid mouths shut.”

  “S-sorry, sir,” the seaman apprentice said, gripping his SL-17 tighter and keeping his eyes locked on the path ahead.

  After that, Gabe didn’t have to put up with any more of that fanboy crap. Thank God.

  From the Allendale arsenal, Gabe had distributed among his team three rocket launchers, two SAWs, two sniper rifles, a plethora of grenades, thirteen assault rifles, and one heavy machine gun complete with tripod. It turned out they didn’t need any of it.

  Five miles from the village the Ambler had attacked, they found it sprawled on the ground, surrounded by nearly three dozen Quatro.

  Larger than draft horses from Old Earth, most Quatro had royal purple coats, with long, powerful tails and eyes with colors never seen in humans—orange, purple, pink, black. Their bodies had the rough shape of bears, though with longer legs, and their heads resembled panthers.

  The autonomous mech had certainly taken out a lot of the aliens, but the fact that the Quatro had won at all spoke to their size, ferocity, and strength. It likely would have taken hundreds of humans to accomplish the same feat without any weapons—if they could have accomplished it at all.

  The Quatro’s tenacity and power went a long way toward explaining why they were so feared. But it didn’t fully explain it. Folks also found their primal nature disturbing. Most people assumed the aliens to be of much lower intelligence than humans, though not without a low cunning.

  “That’s weird,” said the seaman apprentice from before, apparently having found the courage to use his stupid mouth again. Somehow, idiots always did. “Why would the Quatro bother taking on an Ambler? It’s not like the machines are going to attack them in their dens. Wouldn’t fit through the tunnels.”

  “Maybe the Ambler attacked them,” said another Darkstream soldier.

  “Yeah, but what were they doing aboveground in such numbers in the first place ?”

  “Planning an assault, possibly,” Gabe said, and heads swiveled toward him. His words ended the chatter.

  “We need to secure the perimeter,” he continued. “This is only the second Ambler that’s ever been taken down, that I know of, and it’s in much better shape than the first. Darkstream will want it for study. Move, people.”

  Chapter 7

  Trying Not to Kill

  If Chief Lannon had been corrupted somehow, then Lisa wasn’t likely to get any help in investigating Jensen’s death. Not unless she contacted someone higher-up in Darkstream, and if she did that, her boss would learn about it.

  No, the company was now depending on her to find out exactly what was going on in Habitat 2, whether it knew it or not.

  Time to go undercover.

  She never wore caps, so the baseball hat she put on in front of a mirror in her tiny dwelling worked wonders, in her eyes.

  This makes it much less likely I’ll get recognized. I’m definitely not a hat person, so…

  To make the disguise even better, she let her midnight hair loose, which she never did in public anymore—she always kept it pinned up. Now, it spilled down to brush her shoulders. She’d always liked the way it looked like this, but Darkstream required that long hair be cut or pinned, and she believed in following the rules. She took her job seriously.

  Finally, she donned plainclothes instead of her usual Darkstream uniform. Wearing overalls and a plain white tee, she expected to blend right in.

  Her investigation would begin in the Swinging Eel. Of Habitat 2’s two bars, the Eel was by far the more disreputable. It was also where anyone involved in the drug trad
e was likely to drink.

  The moment she entered and the door swung shut behind her, returning the front room to its former dimness, silence began to wash over the bar, until no one was talking or drinking and everyone was looking at her.

  She cleared her throat, offering a grin. Not so wide, she told herself, and shrunk the smile a little. Drug smugglers would not smile so big.

  Crossing the room to the bar, behind which a woman seemed to be trying to peer into Lisa’s soul, she said, “Can I have, um, a whiskey…on the rocks?” She’d been about to order her usual whiskey sour, but had caught herself at the last minute. The drink didn’t seem to suit the atmosphere.

  “If you have the credits, I have the whiskey,” the wiry bartender said, her eyebrows raised.

  Drink in hand, Lisa decided to stick to her original plan. She crossed the still-quiet room to a table in the back corner, feeling immensely awkward. It felt like every eye in the bar was following her, and she was pretty sure that feeling wasn’t far from the truth.

  Sitting with her back to the wall, she studiously avoided eye contact with everyone. Gradually, conversation resumed, though it didn’t come anywhere near the dull roar that had preceded the sudden silence.

  Someone approached her table, hands on hips. Lisa followed those hips to a stomach, then to a chest, and then to a face.

  It was Tessa Notaras.

  “Tessa?” she whispered. “You drink here?” Lisa felt betrayed, somehow, mostly on Phineas Gage’s behalf. How could Tessa give any business to the Swinging Eel when the Dusty Bucket had always treated her so well?

  Tessa took a seat right next to her, brushing her swinging white hair out of her face. She’d brought no drink with her. “Did you really consider that an adequate disguise?”

  Even at three times Lisa’s age at least, Tessa still had plenty of fire in her. Her eyes shone with anger and disbelief as they studied Lisa, who tried not to cower into her seat.

  “Tessa…why are you here? Do you drink here a lot?”

  “Forget about that. You need to leave, Lisa.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re making a lot of people very nervous. You need to get out of here and find somewhere safe to hide. Don’t come out until it’s all over.”

  Squinting, Lisa said, “Until what’s all over?”

  Several sharp reports sounded outside, in quick succession. Gunfire.

  Lisa’s hand fled to her pistol, fumbling at it, though she didn’t draw. “What was that?” she asked, her voice low and shaky.

  Tessa cursed, leaping to her feet. “The answer to your question.” She made to run toward the door, but hesitated, glancing back. “Listen, Lisa. Stay here, and stay down. If you’re lucky, the fighting won’t reach you in here, but you need to stay low and hidden. You’re in greater danger than anyone in Habitat 2 right now, okay?”

  “Tessa, wait! I’ll come with you!”

  “Stay here,” Tessa hissed, dashing across the room and drawing the twin pistols she kept slung low around her hips.

  Lisa’s hands trembled around her whiskey. She took a sip, but her mouth twisted, and she placed the drink back on the table, glass knocking against the wood with her shaking.

  Less than a minute after Tessa’s departure, two groups of people stood up and faced each other across the bar. For the first time, Lisa noticed that there was a distinct divide among the Swinging Eel’s clientele. Most of the members of one group wore black armbands and bandannas, and most of the other had their heads shaved, each with a small tattoo somewhere near their right ear.

  “Not in here, people,” the wiry woman behind the bar yelled. “Please. If my service has meant anything…”

  Most of the bar’s customers filed outside, then, where the gunfire continued. The two groups kept their distance from each other as they left.

  But instead of following the rest, two well-muscled men from the bandanna group broke away from their fellows and approached Lisa.

  “You’re coming with us,” said the taller one on the right. He looked to be of Korean descent, like Lisa.

  “No, I’m not.” Now Lisa did draw her gun, pointing it at the one who’d spoken and willing it not to tremble.

  Gales of laughter burst from both men. Neither had drawn their own guns, though both wore shotguns across their backs.

  “Please,” said the one on the left, who looked Mexican. “We have no time for comedy. Your colleagues are being taken as we speak. We’re trying not to kill Darkstream employees, but we will if we’re pressed. We saw Tessa talking to you, but that only gets you so far.”

  “Tessa? What does she have to do with it?” Lisa knew this was far from the time to ask, but she was suddenly burning with curiosity about the older woman.

  The Korean ignored the question, nodding at Lisa’s pistol instead. “That’s not a toy. Put it down and come quietly so that no one gets hurt who doesn’t need to be.”

  Lisa shook her head, her fear having stolen her ability to speak.

  The Mexican stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the gun’s barrel, and yanked it from Lisa’s grasp. He held it in front of her face, lips curling into a smile. “That was easy.”

  Why didn’t you fire? Lisa demanded of herself. You were within your rights to fire!

  But she hadn’t fired, and she felt completely useless because of that. The idea that she’d been somehow important to the security of Habitat 2 was melting away, and from behind it, the ugly truth was staring her in the face.

  The men bracketed her, gripping her firmly by her upper arms. Then they escorted her through the bar and out of a rear exit.

  Chapter 8

  Toe-to-Toe with Beasts

  “What do you think?” Bronson asked Jake as they left one of the destroyer’s corridors and entered a large room filled with comfortable-looking leather chairs that circled low mahogany tables. A gleaming bar stood at either end of the room.

  “What do I think of what?”

  Bronson’s smile twitched. “My lounge. I had it installed six years ago.” The smile widened again, and the destroyer captain continued. “I figured, since Darkstream keeps whittling down my crew for postings elsewhere in the system, why not make the most of it? So I had Engineering study whether this was feasible. Obviously it turned out to be, and I had them come up with a design. Then, I had Maintenance knock out the walls between twelve crew cabins. This was the result. The Starlight Lounge.”

  “It’s cool,” Jake said, nodding.

  “Thanks.” Bronson led Jake toward the bar on the right, and the captain went behind it, selecting a tall, dark bottle and splashing some of its contents into a tumbler. “What can I get for you, Jake? Juice? I assume your father doesn’t allow you to drink.”

  “Yeah. He doesn’t.”

  Bronson’s smile took on a mischievous cast. “Well, would you like a drink anyway? He doesn’t have to know.”

  Jake shrugged. “All right.”

  Splashing some amber liquid into a glass for Jake, Bronson held up his own. It took a second for Jake to figure out what he wanted. He clinked his class against Bronson’s, and they both took a swallow.

  “Ugh,” Jake said, screwing up his face. “Gross.”

  “You’ll get used to it. How old are you, Jake?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “I had my first drink when I was younger. Of course, back where I come from, that was against the law.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Bronson’s eyebrows jacked up a couple notches. “Your father told you about the Milky Way, then?”

  “He told me a lot. Told me about Captain Keyes, and the rest.”

  The captain’s tumbler hit the bartop with a thunk. “Did he?” he said, clearly trying to sound casual, though his voice was strained.

  “Yeah. Did you know Captain Keyes?”

  The smile grew brittle. “He and I go way back. But let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about the reason you’re here.”

  Jake held his
breath. He thought he knew the reason Bronson had brought him here, and he also knew how he felt about it. But he wasn’t certain it was right for him to feel that way.

  “How would you like to be a Darkstream soldier, Jake?”

  “I’d love to,” Jake blurted out. “But…but I don’t want to leave my dad alone out here.”

  “Well, we’re planning to buy that mech from your father. Soon enough, he’ll be able to hire a whole team. So either way, he won’t be alone.”

  “Yeah. I know. But the reason we’re out here is to help Sue Anne, my sister. She has stage four adenosarcoma, and she needs lots of medicine. A lot.”

  “I’m aware. But after our conversation, I think you’ll find that working for Darkstream will be the best thing for your sister, too. You’ll be paid handsomely, Jake, and you can do whatever you like with the credits we’ll give you. That includes paying for top-tier procedures for Sue Ellen.”

  “Sue Anne.”

  “Right. Sorry. Sue Anne.”

  Jake sighed heavily. His dreams were pulling him one way, while his sense of duty tugged him in the opposite direction. What Bronson said made sense, but his dad had always criticized Darkstream, and Peter also said that what they were doing out in the Belt was best for Sue Anne.

  “I just don’t know, sir.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Bronson said. “Why don’t you take a seat in that recliner just over there.” The destroyer captain reached under the bar, producing lucid sleepgear that was sleeker and much less dorky-looking than Jake’s. “We have a special simulation that we only use for certain recruits. I want you to try it out. Go lucid for just ten minutes. At the end of it, I’ll wake you, and I won’t say anything else. I think you’ll have enough to make your decision, then.”

  Jake took a seat, and Bronson slipped the headgear over his skull, positioning the electrodes so that they were spaced more or less evenly across his scalp.

  He was too excited to get to sleep, so Bronson handed him a light sedative. That did it. He slipped into lucid and found himself piloting a powerful mech.