Meltdown (Mech Wars Book 3)

by Scott Bartlett

  But by the way Beth’s jaw was set, Ash could tell that she had. “I hate to say it, Steam,” she said, “but we need Roach. We need Dynamo. We have to convince him to lead us again.”

  Ash nodded gravely. “You’re right. But…I’ll talk to him alone, okay?”

  “Are you kidding me? After he attacked you? No way. I’m not letting you be alone with him.”

  “I have to, Paste. I have a trump card that I can use to persuade him, but it’s not something I can share with anyone else. So it has to just be me. Okay?” Her last word sounded pleading, to Ash’s own ears.

  “Okay, Steam. But please be careful. I’ll be nearby, and I’ll be monitoring your status, to make sure you don’t get into trouble. But I won’t listen in.”

  “Thank you, Paste.”

  “Just be careful. I don’t know what I’d do, if I lost…if I lost another teammate.”

  Chapter 12

  A Unified Oneiri

  “Chief Roach?” Ash said softly, almost whispering as she stopped several meters away from him, the memory of what he’d done during their last encounter fresh in her mind.

  She’d gone to collect her MIMAS before braving this encounter—luckily, repairs on the mechs had just finished.

  Roach was standing perfectly still outside the residence whose basement the quad had surfaced inside of. No one had yet made any effort to repair the gaping hole the Quatro had put in the structure’s outer wall, leaving it instead for the elements to get inside and dampen the interior, creating an environment ideal for bacteria and mold.

  “Sir?” Ash said, a little louder this time.

  Roach didn’t answer, or acknowledge her presence in any way.

  Deciding to wait for a few moments, to see whether he was about to do anything rash, Ash’s gaze drifted past him once more, to the wrecked home. From what she’d heard, the quadruped mech had killed the entire family that had resided there. They’d gathered together for family dinner just before its arrival, and now they were all dead.

  Had they been renting their house, or did they have a mortgage? Maybe they owned it outright. What would happen to it, now?

  She wasn’t sure why she was occupying herself with these thoughts as she waited for Roach to show some sign that there was still a human being somewhere inside the bulk of metal and weaponry he’d become.

  Perhaps it was to remind herself of why they were fighting—not just to drive Darkstream profits, though that was certainly a big part of it; every employee knew that.

  No, Darkstream doing well meant security for the system. That wasn’t just PR; it was true. If she could help the company subdue the mounting alien threat, then she could create a safer planet for regular people to live on.

  That’s if Tessa Notaras’s claims hold no water.

  If what Tessa had said was true, then Darkstream was enslaving those regular people, and the line about providing them with system-wide security really was just a PR move, to placate the larger populations on Eresos and elsewhere.

  Roach had called Notaras a liar. But the chief had also been exhibiting serious signs of mental instability, lately.

  Ash sighed, and she accidentally transmitted it via the mech’s broadcasting system.

  That proved fortuitous, since it caused Roach to register her presence at last. He revolved in place, till his fearsome frame was squared with hers.

  “What?” he said.

  “Do you…do you still receive alerts from Darkstream, sir?”

  “What are you here to discuss, Sweeney?”

  “The rest of the team just received an emergency bulletin. Villages in the Glades are under attack by three quads and a whole bunch of Quatro.”

  “Then that’s where I’m headed.” Roach marched straight at her, fast, and she was forced to sidestep. His massive shoulder clipped hers as he passed, which made her mech whip around so that she was facing his receding back.

  “You can’t just go there by yourself, Dynamo,” she called after him.

  He kept striding forward, his pace totally unaltered.

  “You need us,” she said, yelling now. “You need Oneiri Team. Maybe you took out two quads, but your melding with that mech gave you an advantage in that fight.” He still wasn’t heeding her, so she jogged after him and continued shouting, even louder. “They know about that advantage now, and three quads working together to kill you will prove a much harder fight than the two you caught off-guard. Not to mention the fifty-three Quatro not in mechs. We need a unified Oneiri Team to win this!”

  Still nothing. Now, Roach began to run himself, and Ash could tell he was planning to rocket over the city walls again.

  “You could die,” she said. “And then you’ll never avenge Jess.”

  That did it. The chief stopped, standing stock-still once more, facing away from her.

  Ash stopped jogging, but she continued walking toward him. “I know that’s why you were so hard on me in training. I know it’s why you don’t let yourself get too close to me, not even as close as teammates should get who have each other’s backs. It’s because I look just like her, isn’t it? Every time you look at me, you see Jess, and it fills you with rage at your loss. That’s why you were such an asshole to me last time we spoke. That’s why you attacked me, even though I’m on your side—even though I’ve saved your life and you’ve saved mine.”

  She reached him, and she placed a metal hand on his shoulder, turning him gently but firmly. The fluid surface of his alien mech shimmered and shifted as he faced her, his inhuman face unreadable.

  “It’s why you’re acting so irrationally—in a way that hurts your allies and hurts you. It also hurts your chances of avenging Jess. It’s not fair to anyone, Chief. It’s bull. And you can cut it out right now. Oneiri Team is going to that village together, and you’re going to lead us there. Because you must.”

  A brittle silence stretched on. At last, Gabe spoke, and even though mediated by his mech, his voice was heavy with suppressed emotion: “Get the others together and meet me outside the city gates in thirty minutes. In thirty minutes, I’m leaving. I won’t wait for another Darkstream battalion to gather, but if you want to follow me, you can. I’ve already abdicated my rank and position. But you can follow me. Don’t ask for anything else, Sweeney, because it’s all you’re getting.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and Roach jerked slightly, probably at her steadfast refusal to address him as anything except her military superior.

  With that, she turned to jog down the street while switching to a team-wide channel.

  Chapter 13

  The Quatro Way

  So it falls to me to try and clean up this mess, does it?

  Lisa supposed that was fair. She had started this militia, and of its members, only she and Andy had recently been paid soldiers in the military Darkstream had established in the Steele System.

  Andy was back with O’Toole and the Quatro drift they’d encountered, and anyway, he’d been a lower rank than her. Lisa had persuaded one of the Quatro to loan O’Toole a translator, so that he could communicate with his and Andy’s hosts.

  The bottom line was that Lisa was the de facto commander of this militia. Yes, Tessa had once ranked highly in Darkstream’s military, but she had no interest in leading.

  Which was good. Because the mess that Lisa had to clean up directly involved her.

  In the short-term, the solution was fairly simple. She ordered Tessa to take another shuttle, while Rug remained in the one shared by Lisa, as well as Nail and Pen, the other Quatro who’d accompanied them from Alex, and Fan, which was the name chosen by the Quatro who’d left his drift to join them as their guide.

  “You did not have to remove Tessa Notaras from my presence,” Rug said, and if Lisa hadn’t known better, she would have said the alien sounded sullen. “I would not have harmed her.”

  “You both need time apart from each other,” Lisa said. “That’s my judgment as commander, Rug.” She wasn’t accustomed to being so firm
about her authority, but she knew it was necessary, especially since they were still figuring out the command structure of the militia. She sighed. “What you learned today…it’s a lot to take in by itself, and it’s a lot for your relationship with Tessa to bear. You need time apart, no matter what becomes of your friendship.”

  “If you say so,” Rug said.

  Of the nineteen Quatro who’d left Alex, four of them had decided not to accompany the militia on their journey to search for other Quatro drifts in the lands east of the Barrens. They’d been reunited with long-lost family, friends, and mates, and the temptation to remain behind with them had been great enough for them to abandon the cause.

  Lisa didn’t resent them for that, even though fewer Quatro accompanying them would probably mean lower chances of convincing the distant Quatro drifts to join their fight again Darkstream.

  No, she didn’t resent them. The opposite, actually: she admired them.

  “Rug, I just want to say…I truly appreciate you and the others coming with us on this mission. Especially you. Your mate is still out there, clearly in trouble. Yet you’re here, instead of looking for him.”

  “This is true,” Rug said, swinging her head ponderously till her jet-black eyes met Lisa’s. “But the needs of the drift must come before my own. You are one of my drift, Lisa. As is Tessa Notaras—even now.”

  Suppressing a grimace, Lisa decided she wanted to steer the conversation away from Tessa as much as she could. “A lot of the Quatro seem to be moving away from that sort of thinking,” Lisa said. “Take the ones who stayed behind with family, even though their militia—their drift—needed them. Not saying I begrudge them that. I would have done the same, actually. But I am saying that a lot of your people appear to be stepping away from the drift-first mentality. They’re finally putting themselves first.”

  Rug lay on the deck of the shuttle, though her head still rose just over Lisa’s. Before, she’d looked fairly relaxed, but now she stiffened. “Your words contain a measure of truth. On Alex, my drift ceased reproduction due to the scarcity there, but with the resources the Eresos Quatro have, their population has likely multiplied by a factor of fifteen since their arrival.”

  “Whoa—Quatro reproduce that quickly?”

  “Yes. Meaning the Quatro here are raising entire generations outside the Quatro way. But just because they are abandoning the ways of our people does not mean that I should.”

  Nodding, Lisa said, “Fair enough, I guess.” A smile crept over her face. “Though I think you’re going to change, too, Rug. Stick around Steele System humans long enough, and we’ll rub off on you.”

  The Quatro made a protracted snorting sound, similar to that which a horse might make. “I do not think it’s wise to remain in the Steele System, for humans or for Quatro. You promised me you would bring us to our hidden ship in the Outer Ring. It is more than large enough to accommodate our militia. We must go there, Lisa Sato. You must keep your promise to us.”

  Lisa shifted in her crash seat, readjusting the straps. “I will,” she muttered, then cleared her throat. “I will, Rug,” she said, with more conviction. “It just can’t be our main priority, right now. You understand that, don’t you? Both our peoples are in terrible danger, here on Eresos. We have to stop Darkstream, and we have to figure out where all these strange mechs are coming from. From what I can tell, someone is trying to play both sides of this war. I just can’t figure out why.”

  “I have figured it out already, Lisa, and I am happy to explain it to you. It is the Meddlers, doing what they have done before: meddle. They will return once the Gatherers fill their reservoirs with resources from the mines of Alex and Eresos—or rather, they’ll come at the time they expect them the reservoirs to be filled. That is little more than a single year away, and when the Meddlers do come, there will be survival for few. Those that are left will be reduced to what my drift became, back on Alex: few in number, struggling to eke out a desperate existence.”

  Lisa sighed. “We’ll get you to your ship, Rug.”

  “But will you get us to it in time? A year may not be enough for you to stop a war and initiate a mass exodus from this system.”

  “I haven’t decided to leave this system, and neither have any other humans. We consider this our home, and we intend to stay here. We’re prepared to defend it if we have to.”

  For a long time, Rug met her gaze while saying nothing.

  Then, at last: “You do not grasp the incredible danger of the situation at hand, Lisa Sato. For that reason, I fear for us all.”

  Chapter 14

  Without a Spacefaring Enemy

  Jake found it almost depressing, how lax security was aboard the Javelin. As a boy, his dreams of joining the military had been filled with soldiers who believed in self-discipline, strict protocol, and vigilance.

  But without a spacefaring enemy to fight, the destroyer had turned into something that more closely resembled a floating resort for Bronson and his crew than it did a warship.

  Sure, it still technically had military personnel, and despite the general sense of panic, they’d held their own in the battle against the alien machines.

  Still.

  The out-of-shape crewmembers. The Starlight Lounge. And now this…

  The destroyer’s main weapons locker, completely unguarded. Jake sighed as he strolled inside and began combing the racks for what he needed.

  Tear gas…check. Flashbang grenades…check.

  Fully loaded, fully automatic SL-17 assault rifle…check.

  Though if this went well, he wouldn’t have cause to use that. What he was planning already amounted to full-blown insubordination, of the sort that resulted in no mere slap on the wrist. Jake’s punishment for what he was about to do would go well beyond demerits. It would mean a dishonorable discharge followed by a hefty fine and a lengthy jail sentence.

  That was if they managed to apprehend him before he achieved his objective.

  Before leaving, he loaded a pistol with a clip full of electric bullets, and he stowed a few more clips around his jumpsuit. He didn’t want to hurt anyone—he just needed to make sure they couldn’t stop him.

  God help them if they try.

  He opened the weapons locker hatch a crack, checking down the corridor before stepping into it and scanning the opposite direction. Nothing.

  He progressed through several corridors that way, clutching his pistol with both hands, low but at the ready.

  This is truly depressing. Even after the recent attack, the Javelin’s marines still weren’t as on-alert as they should have been. The fact that there wasn’t a single soldier within several corridors of the warship’s primary weapons locker…

  He repressed the urge to sigh again.

  Checking around the next corner, he finally spotted some marines—a pair of them, ribbing each other about something, one of them holding a coffee in hand. They were both laughing loudly about whatever the subject of their fun was, so they didn’t hear Jake’s slow approach up the corridor.

  They’re about to feel real stupid.

  He shot the one without a coffee in the neck, dropping him to the deck, a shuddering, jerking mess.

  The other marine’s mouth formed a comical “O” as she turned to register Jake’s presence, her mug turning sideways to spill coffee onto the deck.

  She, too, got an electric bullet in the neck.

  The bullets were designed to continue delivering an electric shock over a prolonged period of time—enough to keep the target incapacitated but not enough to seriously injure them. The bullets were also meant to stop shocking the target well before permanent nerve damage was done.

  Of course, no nonlethal weapon was perfect, and there were plenty of cases where things had gone wrong with the use of electric bullets.

  Plenty of lawsuits against cops, back in the Milky Way.

  That wouldn’t be the consequence Jake faced if Darkstream apprehended him, however. He’d just be jailed and sucked dry of h
is personal finances.

  But that would be far from the worst consequence of getting captured.

  Far worse is the fact that my family would surely die.

  He hated having to risk injuring his fellow soldiers, but this was what Bronson had driven him to. Maybe the Darkstream board of directors would have signed off on abandoning the innocent people of Hub to their fate—if that was the case, then they’d driven Jake to this, too.

  Thinking you could stop me from protecting my family was your first mistake.

  Jake cleared corridor after corridor. He’d planned all this out shortly after his conversation with Bronson. Briefly, he’d considered tying up his targets after stunning them with the electric bullets. Then, he’d realized that they would have sent out an alert using their implants the moment the shocks subsided. Until it did, they likely wouldn’t have the concentration necessary to operate the implants, but that was all the time Jake had, unless he wanted to cut the damn implants out of the marines’ heads.

  So he moved swiftly, drawing closer and closer to the shuttle bay, taking as much care as he could afford to. Checking around each corner, moving from cover to cover. Neutralizing everyone he encountered.

  Without warning, Captain Bronson himself emerged into an intersection of corridors ahead, turning the corner so that his back was to Jake. He held a coffee mug of his own.

  “Captain,” Jake barked.

  Bronson turned around, and an expression of surprise had begun to blossom on his face when Jake shot him in the neck.

  Pausing next to the captain’s jerking form, Jake peered down at him, keeping his expression neutral. “I didn’t want to shoot you while you weren’t looking at me.”

  Within five minutes, he reached the shuttle bay. Lowering his faceplate, he turned on his jumpsuit’s life support before using his S-level security clearance to open the hatch.

  Good thing I still have that clearance. It served as further evidence that he’d caught the crew of the Javelin with their pants down.