Dead Mech Walking: a mech LitRPG novel (Armored Souls Book 1)

by Xavier P. Hunter

  “Roger that,” Barclay confirmed.

  “Report any signs of hostile juggernauts.”

  A Minigun echoed in the forest air.

  [Secondary Objective: Kill Hostile Indigenous Creatures 28/???]

  “And whenever possible, avoid engaging the dinos,” Reggie added.

  “Not gonna happen,” Iris radioed back. “They aggro on sight.”

  Reggie seethed a breath. She was right, of course. But it just ran counter to best practices to set up an ambush while reporting your position to the enemy with a string of gunfire.

  Once he met up with Barclay, Reggie used the zoom on his Sandpiper to get a look at the poacher’s compound from the far side. It was one of the few useful features the Sandpiper possessed aside from pure speed.

  Trees obscured his view, but Reggie made out a perimeter fence and a clearing. Shuffling to the side for a different angle, he could make out a tower of some sort—latticework metal structure. It was more likely to be radar or communications than a defensive structure.

  Reggie marked the tower on his mini-map and hit a button.

  TARGET DATA SHARED

  [Primary Objective Complete: Locate Poachers’ Camp]

  Reggie then did a little quick math. “Barclay, what’s the speed rating on that rental pile of bleep you’re driving?”

  “90, and it hits that in about 4 seconds,” Barclay radioed back.

  “All right. Larson, Kim, I want a full salvo of missiles. Don’t take any chances. Your first target is that tower. Barclay and I will charge in from behind, fire, and retreat. Use the chaos we cause to advance on the base. Barclay, we are not to engage. As soon as we have their attention, we get out of there.”

  A chorus of confirmations came in from the rest of the platoon.

  “Larson, Kim, hold your fire until I give the signal. Barclay, fall in on my six when I head for the compound in three… two… one… MOVE!” Reggie stomped on the accelerator and was thrown against the chair of his Sandpiper. Give the little birdie credit for one thing: it had some kick in the seat.

  Barclay pulled in behind Reggie in his Kestrel. Reggie eased off the gas when he hit 90kph, keeping from pulling too far ahead of his backup.

  The range to target counted down rapidly.

  400m…

  250m…

  Reggie flicked on his radio. “Fire on the tower in three… two… one… missiles away!”

  150m to target…

  The tower exploded in a blossom of smoke that grew as continued fire poured in, missiles impaling the smoke cloud again and again. “Cease fire,” Reggie ordered.

  The missile barrage ended on cue, with just a pair of stragglers already in the air finishing their journeys with a double-concussion.

  “We have visual,” Iris radioed. “Two Wyverns and a Pixie heading our way.”

  Reggie snarled at the notion that some lousy dinosaur poachers had the ride he was being denied. Daisy might have been a heap of scrap, but she was his, and he’d fight to earn her back. Reggie blinked, distracted from the mission momentarily. He meant the juggernaut, not the cheating hag who’d divorced him from 8,000 miles away.

  Snapping back to the task at hand, Reggie issued an update to the platoon’s orders. “Standoff engagement only. Fire-and-retreat. They won’t pursue for long. Barclay, you’re with me.”

  Reggie piloted the Sandpiper into the smoke cloud. Instinctively, his hand went for the infrared camera, but this wasn’t his tank. Best he knew, the Sandpiper didn’t have any advanced vision systems on board. Blinded inside a wall of smoke, he decelerated to a walking pace.

  “What’re we looking for?” Barclay asked. Reggie could hear the thudding footsteps to know the Kestrel was close by.

  “We’re here to level the place. Use those lasers of yours. Just be careful where you aim,” Reggie ordered.

  “Roger, King,” Barclay replied smartly. The whole demeanor of the unit had taken on a crisp edge in mimicry of his command tone.

  Four soldiers working together were stronger than five who squabbled.

  The smoke began to clear as the wind picked up. Reggie could make out a few structures within the fenced perimeter. He had barely registered trampling a chain-link barrier on the way in, but there it was behind them.

  The Beam Cannon-S on the Sandpiper did next to nothing, just two points of damage per hit—but that was to juggernauts. Against pre-fab sheet metal structures, it sliced them up like deli meat.

  “King, bogies are heading your way,” Larson reported. “They know you’re back there.”

  “Roger that. Green light to pursue. Barclay, fall back. I’ll bring up the rear,” Reggie ordered.

  “But you’ve got the faster—”

  “Move!” Reggie barked. This wasn’t a debate. “We’re here to defend democracy, not practice it!”

  It was a line from an old C.O. of Reggie’s, but he wasn’t too proud to borrow it.

  “House Virgo is a feudal government,” Kim chimed in. Reggie noted that Kim’s Chi-Ri was continuing toward the compound despite the chatter. He could live with that.

  “Not the point,” Reggie snapped back. “If you want to question orders, do it back at base in the debriefing.”

  Barclay was nearing the tree line, torso swiveled to fire back behind and lay his own cover fire. Reggie kept clear of his firing lane and matched the Kestrel’s speed.

  As the Pixie appeared through the haze of lingering smoke, Barclay’s Kestrel slowed suddenly.

  “Barclay, keep moving. DO NOT ENGAGE!”

  “Overheated,” Barclay reported. “Powering off lasers for the cooldown.”

  Shit, Reggie swore silently. At least in his head, it carried the intended vitriol. “Eject. I’ll pick you up in my Sandpiper.”

  “Seriously? There’s dinos out there!” Barclay protested.

  “It’s a rental juggernaut. You’re a ripe target. If you want XP for this mission, ditch that sitting duck of yours.”

  Even over the radio, Barclay’s voice sounded unsteady. “R-roger that.”

  Reggie fired a couple blasts from his Beam Cannon-S before powering it down to avoid the trap Barclay had fallen victim to. These little scout juggernauts weren’t built to vent the heat from a prolonged engagement.

  The Sandpiper covered the ground to Barclay’s position before the other pilot had jumped down to the ground. Reggie popped the canopy of the Sandpiper and invited Barclay to jump across with a beckoning wave.

  “C’mon. Just jump it.”

  Barclay looked down the eight meters or so to the ground. “I… I can’t.”

  “It’s a bleeping video game, soldier,” Reggie ordered, frantically gesturing Barclay over to his cockpit.

  “But the pain’s real…” Barclay objected weakly. When he didn’t find any sympathy in Reggie’s features, the Kestrel’s pilot swallowed and jumped the gap between giant robots.

  Barclay’s foot hit the edge of the open cockpit. His hand grabbed for the open console that hung like an awning over the entryway. But his weight was back. He was slipping. “Euaaaaagh!”

  Reggie shot out a hand and grabbed Barclay by the belt.

  Seconds later, Barclay was squeezing to climb into the back seat of a light juggernaut that wasn’t built with one. The cockpit hatch closed, sealing them in like a fraternity stunt gone haywire.

  “Get your foot out of my crotch,” Reggie shouted as he jammed the accelerator to max. He grunted as the aforementioned foot dug into his groin when Sandpiper lurched. “And let go of my head.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Barclay apologized.

  Straining to fight his way into a comfortable position, Reggie watched as Larson and Kim finished off the two Wyverns that had turned their backs as they ran back to base.

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 1/3]

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 2/3]

  The Pixie would have to either choose a losing footrace against a Sandpiper or stay and fight a losing battle
against two lightly damaged Chi-Ris.

  It wasn’t long before Reggie had his answer. The Pixie broke off pursuit and circled back to defend its stronghold. There was never even a stage between perfectly intact and destroyed on Reggie’s HUD.

  [Primary Objective: Destroy Enemy Juggernauts 3/3]

  “Good job, grunts,” Reggie radioed to the rest of the platoon.

  Barclay let out a whoop that pierced Reggie’s ears like a dog whistle.

  Reggie gritted his teeth. “Let’s get back to the drop ship. Barclay, let’s see if you can start that Kestrel back up.”

  The sooner he was rid of his passenger, the sooner they could make their way through the jungle.

  [Secondary Objective: Kill Hostile Indigenous Creatures 30/???]

  [Secondary Objective: Kill Hostile Indigenous Creatures 33/???]

  With a minimal distraction from the wildlife, they made it back to the House Virgo drop ship and from there to the command ship.

  [Mission Successful - 350 XP - 900Cr]

  CHAPTER SIX

  Beer aboard the House Virgo command ship was free. But after multiple rounds of celebratory beverages, Reggie found he was no longer getting any drunker. Apparently, inebriation within the game was carefully metered.

  “That was awesome,” Kim said through a drunken grin. “We hardly dented our armor out there. Grant would have figured we had them outnumbered and laid siege to the place.”

  Barclay nodded. “And last time I got stranded in an overheated juggernaut, Grant told me to learn from my mistake and left me to get fragged by that pirate gang.”

  Kim raised a finger as if some profound insight had just entered his head. “Oh, and remember that time Grant bit it two minutes into that city raid? I mean—”

  “Enough about Grant,” Iris cut in. She lifted a mug to Reggie, who only had an empty one to clink against it. “Here’s to our new commander, may we never suck donkey balls again.”

  There were chuckles around the table, and Reggie was surprised that Iris had managed to get that whole thing spoken without a bleep. Apparently, there was a local art to vulgarity.

  “Thanks, everyone,” Reggie said, standing graciously. “But that was just one mission. Don’t get too full of yourselves—or me, for that matter. We did good. We got paid. Three of us leveled. Next mission’s gonna be another challenge.”

  Kim yawned. “Well, not today it’s not. I’ve got work in about half an hour. I’ve gotta shower and grab a breakfast burrito.”

  “I’ve got the day off,” Barclay added. “But I’m beat. I need to stretch my legs, maybe hit the gym. It gets exhausting lying around all day playing Armored Souls.”

  “What about you?” Reggie asked Iris.

  She licked her lips. “I’m a couple time zones west of these guys. I’ve got some time before work.”

  He knew damn well what she meant. Reggie might have been a noob in game, but he knew when a woman was coming onto him.

  Something about the uniform drew them like flies. Some were good girls who liked a strong man; some were bad girls who liked a dangerous guy. Reggie had never known how to figure out which ones they’d be when he walked into a bar or nightclub near base. He didn’t know which kind Iris was.

  “Mind helping me pick skill points?” Reggie asked, looking Iris square in the eye.

  All Reggie knew for now was that he had skill points to spend, didn’t want to lose them like last time, and that this game world wasn’t real. He had a hard time believing that the same hospital staff that had left the language filters enabled on his account would let him get off in game. There was something psychologically suspicious about any guy who would want to.

  When Iris didn’t answer, Reggie cocked his head.

  She let out a tiny sigh. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Over the next half hour or so, Reggie got a rundown of the in-game stats and what each would do to help him. They sat together in front of a mirror, in one of the command ship’s crew quarters, looking at Reggie’s stats.

  [PER: 5]

  [GUN: 9]

  [SHO: 3]

  [AGI: 3]

  [PIL: 9]

  [TGH: 5]

  [CMD: 1]

  “Perception is mostly the mental-based skills,” Iris explained. “It’ll increase your chances of spotting targets visually, but it also gives you hints when you’ve shown up on enemy radar or when a system’s about to fail. Intuition comes up a lot under Perception.”

  “What’s the deal with Gunnery and Shooting?” Reggie asked. “Why not just use one stat for both?”

  Iris shrugged. “Not everyone’s good with artillery and rifles, right? Dunno how it is out in the real world, but in here, I guess the developers didn’t want everyone being Maverick and Rambo at the same time.”

  Reggie smirked. The ‘80s references were the first hint he’d had at Iris’s real age. In-game she looked early twenties, but Reggie had seen enough in his brief trip through character creation to realize how easy that would be to fake.

  “Fine. What’s Piloting do? I mean, I’m controlling the juggernaut already, right?” Reggie asked.

  Iris sighed. “Yes and no. Your hands are on the controls, but everything gets a little smoother, tighter, more responsive…”

  “You’re still talking about juggernauts, right?” Reggie asked.

  Iris’s laughter bubbled up from her belly. “Yes!” Which Reggie took to mean that no, she hadn’t been.

  “OK, what about the last two, then?” Reggie asked through a smile that was stuck on his face.

  “Toughness dulls pain, improves stamina, and lets you stay awake longer. If you want to be able to keep fighting while the cockpit of your juggernaut is on fire or run around the battlefield on foot with a blaster rifle dodging shrapnel, Toughness is the stat for you. Command is a dump stat for most builds.”

  “Dump stat?” Reggie echoed. Someone had used that term before, and it sounded weirdly familiar. He just wasn’t as up-to-date with games as he used to be.

  Iris shrugged. “Put stats into anything else, leave Command to bleep. All it does is give bonuses to other juggernauts. It’s a nice stat for someone else to have. Not to mention you have to trick out with perks to get any real use from it. It’s underpowered compared to Piloting and Gunnery. Quicker aim time and more responsive maneuvers win battles.”

  “Sounds like Command is good for a platoon leader,” Reggie ventured. He tapped the plus sign beside Command and bumped it up to 3. The Accept button glowed green, expectantly awaiting his OK.

  Iris rubbed her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t listen to me. If you want to go with the noob Command spec, be my guest.”

  “Why’s that a noob choice?” Reggie asked, genuinely curious. “If I boost my whole squad, that’s three other juggernauts getting bonuses—four once we replace Grant.”

  “Sure,” Iris replied. “But unless you’re a top tournament platoon, you’re better off boosting your own stats and getting more credits from mission wins. Commander spec is basically doing charity work. And let’s face it, we just booted our platoon leader; it’s not like this is a lifelong commitment.”

  Reggie’s fingers rubbed at the spot where he’d once worn a wedding ring. Even during his deployments, he’d always kept his on. Other guys worried about it getting caught on equipment, but Reggie has chosen to keep his on. It had been a lifelong commitment. Losing a wife had been worse than losing a finger.

  Reggie swapped to the selection of perks and chose the one that called out as the clear choice: Command Radius 1.

  [Add +1 to Piloting and Gunnery of friendly juggernauts within 50m per Command Skill point]

  “You sure you want to—” Iris started to warn him.

  Reggie hit Accept.

  “Fine,” Iris said with a sigh. “Look, I helped you out. I’ve still got a little time before work, but I think I’m gonna log over to a little easier Valhalla game. It’s fully customizable and does what I tell it. Tonight I’m probably going to even call it �
�Reggie.’ Ask me tomorrow and maybe I’ll tell you how the stand-in performed.”

  Iris tousled Reggie’s hair on her way out of their borrowed crew quarters. She lingered in the doorway, glancing back at the neatly made bed before giving Reggie a wink and stepping through the door.

  “Subtlety is a dead art form,” Reggie muttered to himself after the door had slid shut behind her.

  Reggie’s nameplate read “King, Scout 2” now. He wondered how long he’d have to pour skill points into Command to get it to change to something else.

  What would Reggie do now? His platoon had all logged out. Technically, he could pick up side work, filling in on another platoon or finding a solo mission. He might even platoon up with some NPCs, though he heard that wasn’t the greatest idea for mission successes.

  After House Virgo took its cut of his mission reward, Reggie was left with 5200Cr. The crew quarters had a computer terminal set into one wall, and Reggie browsed the command ship’s store for juggernaut upgrades. He could purchase from here, and crews would install systems down in the hangar. Repairs on Daisy would only have run him about 4400Cr.

  Reggie’s finger poised above the button to order Daisy back into service.

  Instead, he decided to hoard credits for a while. With no other pressing business in Armored Souls, Reggie took a long breath and laid down on the bed to log out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Reggie awoke, Dr. Zimmerman was there in the pod room. The doctor paced back and forth, tapping away at his tablet.

  “Oh. You’re awake,” Dr. Zimmerman commented.

  Reggie groaned and lifted leaden arms to unhook the VR rig from his head. “So I am.”

  “Don’t bother with that,” Dr. Zimmerman said. He tapped something and spoke into his tablet. “June, can you come down to the pod room and assist Sgt. King?”

  “Nah, I got this, doc,” Reggie replied. Why did his arms feel like he hadn’t used them in months? At most, he’d only been gone a few hours.

  “Nonsense,” Dr. Zimmerman replied. “Your neurons still think they’re firing the muscles of someone in Armored Souls who just goes by the name ‘King.’ It’ll be a few minutes before they remember how to operate your body properly again.”