"Whatever, Sanchez, we got through the door at the same time!" the female soldier argued back.
"Hey, Tim, who do you think made it here first, me or Hart?" Sanchez asked.
"Shut up, Sanchez, you know you all get the same beer rations regardless," Tim the bartender said. The two pulled up stools and sat at the bar; Tim pouring them some beer into some mugs.
Five more soldiers walked in through the door.
"Goddammit, Sanchez, if you break this door, it's coming out of your pay!" the First Sergeant just coming through the door yelled.
"What do you mean, Sarge? Hart was in here first!" Sanchez said jokingly.
"Is that so?” Hartford said to Sanchez and then motioned to Tim. “Tim, I think I'll have his beer rations then.”
"Here you go, Hart, complements of Corporal Sanchez," Tim said with a wink.
"Hey! My beer!" Sanchez protested.
The soldiers erupted in laughter. It was then Brookes noticed the unit insignia patch on their uniforms.
“That's the Dark Horse Commando Squad,” Brookes said to the beer glass, which sadly was never getting a word in edgewise.
Brookes watched The Dark Horses as they set up stakes at the bar. She noticed that they all seemed to get along well enough. She counted those at the bar and there was only seven. She took note of how under-strength for a squad that was. She studied the soldiers for a bit and allowed them to get a few drinks in.
“I guess I should go say hi,” Brookes muttered one last time to the beer glass, which she set down; its contents still not completely emptied.
She slowly got up and made her way over to the bar where The Dark Horses were. Just as she was about to introduce herself to them; the front bar door opened.
“You must be 2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes?” a gruff voice said behind her.
Brookes and everyone else at the bar turned around to see who it was. Brookes, noticing it was Captain Fischer, saluted.
“2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes reporting for duty, sir.”
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Fischer said.
Fischer started walking forward toward the bar.
“Sir, let me just say it’s an hon-” Brookes said as Fischer ignored her, walking right past her to the bar.
“Martin, I need you, Sanchez, and Kazir to do a weapons check and an ammo restock by twenty-hundred hours,” Fischer ordered.
“Yes, sir!” Martin said as he took away Sanchez’s last beer and chugged it.
“My beer!” Sanchez yelled in protest.
The three got up from the bar and headed towards the door as Sanchez grumbled about his beer.
“Hey, so are you a new member to our esteemed unit?” Sanchez asked Brookes, with a slight sarcastic tone.
“Yeah, nice to …” Brookes replied.
“Come on, meathead! You can get yourself acquainted later,” Martin said, interrupting Brookes as he grabbed Sanchez by the arm. Kazir walked past Brookes with only “Hmph” to greet her.
“Sweet guy,” Brookes said under her breath.
“Hartford and Akiyama, I need you two to go and meet up with Captain Haggardson and inform him we need to be ready to go in four days; see if he needs any help getting ready,” Fischer said.
“I’ll go with ‘em, sir!” a scrawny private with glasses said quickly.
“No Jones, I need you and Cross to do comm checks and gather up as many medical supplies as QM-M will allow,” Fischer said.
“What’s going on, Cap?” Hartford asked.
“We’re going back to the front in four days,” Fischer said.
“Son of a …” Hartford said with frustration as the four got up and headed for the door.
“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant, I’m sure we’ll get to know you later,” Akiyama said, stopping briefly to face Brookes before exiting.
“Ahh… hang in there, Lieutenant. It gets better. And oh yeah, welcome to the nuthouse, ha-ha!” Hartford laughed, as she walked out the door. Brookes couldn’t tell if Hartford was messing with her or not.
“Lu-Lieutenant,” Jones stammered, as he walked passed Brookes.
“What’s your blood type?” Cross asked.
“Umm… AB+,” Brookes said.
“Hmm… good for you, but bad for us,” Cross said, as she headed out the door.
“I’m sorry …?” a puzzled Brookes replied.
“Lieutenant!” Fischer said loudly to get Brookes’ attention.
“Yes, sorry, sir,” Brookes said.
“Follow me outside,” Fischer said as he headed out the bar.
Brookes gave a quick look around the now empty bar and quickly followed behind Captain Fischer.
*****
Brookes had been walking at Fischer’s side for what felt like forever. Time seemed to slow as she walked next to him. She was carefully taking note of him as he walked slightly ahead of her. She was surprised by how the image of him had changed from the poster she had in her room when she was little. The man in front of her had unkempt, speckled-gray hair and stubble; he was obviously someone who hadn’t had time for a shave or a haircut. The stark contrast from the tall, confident, clean-cut every-hero was all too apparent. It was all very surreal for her to take in.
“I just wanted to say it’s an honor to be under your command, sir,” Brookes said, trying to break the ice. “In fact it was your exploits ten years ago that inspired me to take a career in the military.”
Fischer remained silent as they continued to walk towards a large, isolated military hangar.
“You’ll have to check-in, Captain Fischer, sir,” the guard at the hangar entrance said.
Fischer took the clipboard from the guard and signed the check-in form and handed it back to him.
“Lieutenant, have you ever seen what we’re up against?” Fischer asked, as he signaled the guard to open the doors.
“Well, only on video and simulations, but once at the Academy they brought in parts from a destroyed Mark One to show to us,” Brookes said.
“Hmm… is that so?” Fischer said as the yellow warning lights and buzzing alarms went off; the large hangar bay doors slowly slid open. Inside of a large metal cage was a semi-active Mark Four. The towering behemoth stood twenty or thirty-feet tall on its two, six-foot wide legs. The dark red optical sensors on the robot seemed to be looking straight at Brookes as she hesitantly followed Fischer closer to its cage.
“It has over a foot of titanium alloy armor plating on its chest, which protects its CPU and critical movement servos. It’s also armed with two shoulder-mounted multi-missile launcher systems, one on each shoulder. The launchers are capable of attacking both ground and air targets up to five kilometers away. If you’ll notice the arms, they each have a quad-laser cannon, and the whole thing is protected by a Proximity Point Defense Laser on the top of its head. The PPDL might seem small, but don’t let it fool you. It engages any hostile target that gets within thirty meters of the unit. This is what we’re facing out there, Lieutenant Brookes. Except the ones out there – are out to kill you and that’s it,” Fischer said as he looked to Brookes for her reaction after he finished.
“Wow, I didn’t know the military had captured any Mark Fours,” Brookes said, still in awe of what she was seeing.
“We got this one last week,” Fischer said. “I had Specialist Akiyama knock out its PPDL. Then Jones got in close, hacked it, and deactivated it. The UMI Service is coming by next week to take it to their facility for study. This is the first one that we’ve ever been able to capture fully intact.”
Fischer nodded to the guard and motioned to Brookes to follow him.
“This way, Brookes,” Fischer said as the two left the hangar; Brookes still feeling the sensors on her as she turned her back to the mechanical monster.
The warning lights and alarms were going off again as the large hangar doors began to close behind Fischer and Brookes.
“How many of those do you face on an average day, sir?” Brookes asked.
“W
ell, the Mark Fours are new so, no more than three in your average battle. The HRUO armies - as you know - are always structured by exacting ratios. There are usually fifty Mark Ones for every Mark Two, fifty Mark Twos for every Mark Three, and now we’re seeing fifty Mark Threes for every Mark Four. So if we identify the number of Mark Ones or Fours we have a pretty good idea about what we’re facing out there.
“So an army of fifty-thousand Mark Ones will have a thousand Mark Twos and twenty Mark Threes?” Brookes asked.
“Correct, Lieutenant Brookes. Of course most of the HRUO armies we face now have at least two or three Mark Fours -- I think you can do the math, Lieutenant Brookes. The army heading for Grantsburg contains eight Mark Fours. I’m not sure we can stop that many; not with the forces that we’ll have out there, anyway,” Fischer said, as he gave a thousand-yard stare.
“I have to go, Lieutenant Brookes. I have arranged a squad briefing tomorrow at 0700 hours in Briefing Room #3 at the command building. The CS-13 barracks is two buildings down from the R&R building. If you hurry, you may be able to get a top bunk. See you later,” Fischer said, as he gave what seemed to be a semblance of a smile. Fischer saluted, and then walked to the Officer’s Bar.
I guess I better get that top bunk! Brookes thought as she started walking briskly to the CS-13 barracks.
Chapter 3
The shift whistle blew signaling the end of the third shift at the Grantsburg COTAX Systems Energy Ammo factory. Chet Lander, who had been working double shifts recently, began to close down his portion of the line for the weekend.
About time, the third shifts are the worst, Chet Lander thought. The machinery slowly ground to a halt, making a ker-chunk sound when it stopped. With his tools put away, Lander made his way to the break room to grab his lunch box.
“Hey, Chet!” his friend Paul Thompson said, as he was sitting in the break room; eating a sandwich.
“Hey, Paul did you make sure to grab the right sandwich this time? You know Mike’s gonna put security cameras up if his sandwiches keep disappearing,” Lander said; grabbing his lunch box from the fridge.
“Meh… let him. I think it’s hilarious that he would spend thousands of credits to see who’s eating his crappy sandwiches. So Chet, why have you been pulling the third shifts? I hear you’re going to be promoted to 2nd Shift Manager at the beginning of next month,” Thompson said.
“Well, Christmas is only a few weeks away and I wanted to make sure Deb and Carly have a good Christmas this year. That promotion was never a done deal till today, anyway,” Lander said as Thompson got up and threw the half-finished sandwich in the trash.
“Mike needs to get better sandwiches,” Thompson said with a grin as he followed Lander out of the break room.
Lander and Paul were walking down the long hallway past the factory offices to the exit.
“So how have Deb and Carly been doin’? Deb must be like 3 or 4 months away, right?” Thompson asked.
“Four. Yeah, she going to go on maternity leave a month before it’s due and Carly is ready for Christmas. It seems to be all she talks about now, is Santa this and Santa that,” Lander said rolling his eyes.
“Heh, that’s pretty damn adorable, Chet.”
“Yeah, adorable and annoying,” Lander chuckled.
Paul got to the exit first and opened the door letting in a blast of cold air that seemed to be more eager to come in than the two wanting to leave.
“Jesus, it feels like the temperature dropped twenty degrees since my shift started,” Thompson said.
“Yeah, but at least it’s not snowing,” Lander said as he was desperately trying to button up his coat.
“Pfft… I would prefer snow over the dead brownness of everything. Snow is at least nice to look at!” Thompson exclaimed, as he was bracing himself against the frozen gusts.
“That’s only true for the first few hours and then come the snow plows, the salt sprayers, the traffic; it all just turns into a big mess,” Lander said, as he was fumbling for the car keys in his coat pocket.
“Hey, you’re not back until you start your new position, right?” Thompson asked.
“Yup!” Lander said with a big grin.
“You lucky bastard; I’ll see you later then,” Thompson said.
“Later,” Lander said as he was getting into his car.
Lander started the car and waited; Thompson was backing out first. Lander turned on the radio while he waited for the car to warm up.
“…in other news, Unified Nations Military Command has agreed to a cohesive defensive strategy for the defense of Jerusalem. The plan will please both Israelis and Palestin-…”
Lander changed the station to the classic rock station.
“…UN President Waldheim’s press secretary has stated that the earlier reports of the fall of Taiwan were in fact erroneo-…” Lander shut off the radio.
“So much for Taiwan,” Lander said to himself, as he shook his head and put his car in gear.
*****
“Daddy!” Lander’s five year old daughter Carly screamed as he came through the front door.
Carly gave her father a big hug on the leg. Lander took his cold hands and scuffled up her hair.
“Hey! That’s cold, daddy, stop it!” Carly demanded as Lander continued for a bit, smiling as he did.
“Hey, munchkin, how’s your day been today? Did you have fun in school?” Lander asked as he was hanging his coat on the rack.
“It was good. Mrs. Summers gave me two gold stars on my multiplication problems!” Carly said joyfully.
“Wow, two gold stars? I guess we should enroll you in college right now!” Lander said jokingly, though judging from Carly’s face it looked like she was considering whether or not he was being serious.
“I’m too young for college, daddy,” Carly said as she crossed her arms in front of her.
“Where’s your mom by the way?” Lander asked.
“She’s lying down on the couch, watching TV. I don’t think she’s feeling too good,” Carly responded.
Carly ran into the living room ahead of Lander to let her mom know that he had arrived, though she was probably already aware of that.
“Hey, honey, how was work?” Deborah asked with some raspiness in her voice.
“Are you feeling okay, Deb?” Lander asked.
Deborah nodded while she coughed.
“I’m fine.”
“Carly, go get your mom some cough drops they’re in the top drawer by the fridge,” Lander said, though Carly was running to the kitchen to fetch the cough drops before he had a chance to finish telling her what to do.
“I have some good news, Deb,” Lander said as Deborah switched her gaze from the TV to his eyes.
“I got the promotion! I’m now the 2nd Shift Manager starting on the sixth!” Lander said.
“That’s wonderful, honey,” Deborah said as she was coughing.
“I can’t find them!” Carly yelled from the kitchen.
“So why won’t they let you start Monday?” Deborah asked.
“I can’t find them!” Carly yelled again from the kitchen.
“The boss is letting me have the week off since I worked my ass off covering those third shifts. I just have to go in on Thursday and do some training,” Lander said.
“I caaannn’t finnnd them!” Carly yelled louder this time. Deborah’s eyes told Lander to go check on Carly in the kitchen.
“They’re right here. Look the top drawer by the fridge, see?” Lander said, as Carly had been looking in the wrong place.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carly said with a grin as Lander gave her the cough drops.
“You know …” Lander said, but before he could finish Carly had already ran out of the kitchen to the living room where she presented her mom with the cough drops.
“I found them!” Carly said gleefully as Lander walked in the room; Carly turned her head smiling as she did.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Deborah said as she took the cough drops.
“Are you all hungry? I’m starving. I was thinking about cooking some pizza rolls. What do you think, Carly?” Lander asked.
“Yay, pizza rolls!” Carly screamed as she jumped for joy.
You two go ahead. I think I’m gonna go to bed early,” Deborah said.
“All right, come on munchkin, you get to help,” Lander said. Carly skipped to the kitchen with Lander following behind her.
“Do you want me to leave the TV on?” Deborah asked as she slowly got off the couch.
“Nah, you can turn it off,” Lander said as he was entering the kitchen.
Deborah grabbed the remote and hit the power button, but just as the TV was powering off a GNN special report bumper flashed on the screen, but Deborah had already started for the bedroom and missed it entirely.
*****
Lander awoke to someone banging on his front door. He jumped out of bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed; it was reading 2:32am.
“Who could it be at this hour?” Deborah asked groggily.
“I don’t know. I’ll find out,” Lander said as he hastily put on his robe and headed to the front door.
“Daddy, I’m scared. Who is it?” Carly asked as she had her head peaking out of her bedroom doorway.
“Carly, close your door and go back to bed, ok?” Lander demanded as Carly closed her door.
The knocks were getting louder as Lander cautiously came to the door. Lander got to the door and opened it quickly.
“Who in the …” Lander said, stopping when he noticed it was two men in military police uniforms.
“Sir, is your name Chet Lander?” the corporal on the right asked.
“Yes,” Lander said. “What is this about?”
“Sir, your local mustering station has been trying to contact you for hours, now. We’re here to collect you and bring you there,” the corporal on the right said.
Lander squinted to read his name tag on the front of his uniform.
“Well, Corporal Smith, I’ve received no such calls and I don-”
“Check your phone.” Corporal Smith said, interrupting Lander.
Lander dug his phone out of his robe pocket and sure enough there were 12 missed calls on it.
Robot Wars: Thrown Into the Fray Page 3