Mechanical

by Bruno Flexer

  "I'm hit!" Tom muttered, then realized that it had been Jebadiah who had doubled back and knocked him down to avoid the Bradley's cannon fire. They were exposed there, without any kind of cover. The Bradley kept advancing right towards them, firing both cannon and machine gun.

  An unbearable metallic scream exploded, and Jebadiah jerked away, his arms moving in all directions. Another explosion of noise came an instant later, and Jebadiah's form was completely covered by small, blossoming yellow-and-orange flames as the Bradley's 25-millimeter rounds, which had confirmed kills of Russian main battle tanks in the Gulf Wars, now tore into the prone Serpent.

  Tom shouted incoherently, aimed his rifle at the charging Bradley and managed to fire two rounds before the cannon's fire moved in his direction. He screamed, feeling the Bradley's cannon’s armor-piercing rounds hitting his torso, his head, tearing off his right arm and damaging his legs. Tom writhed on the earth as the Bradley kept firing its cannon at him.

  I'm going to die here, Tom thought, his vision red with pain, and his body in agony. He felt he was being torn apart by the deluge of hot metal ripping into him. Tom moved his left hand helplessly, his half-blinded and deafened sensors relaying only the sounds of the Serpent’s black armor falling apart under the unrelenting bombardment.

  A moment passed and then another. To his surprise, Tom was still alive. A scream that had echoed around him and filled his world slowly died away. It was his own scream, Tom realized. Still under the barrage of the cannon, now a mere fifty yards away, , Tom realized his body did not actually suffer pain.

  The Serpent does not feel pain. It was not a thought, just a realization flashing through Tom's consciousness faster than lighting.

  Stabilizing his damaged Serpent as best as he could, he extended his left hand, holding his rifle towards the charging Bradley. He aimed with badly degraded sensors and fired. He fired again, then he squeezed the trigger for the third time, but now the magazine was empty and the rifle did not fire. However, the two bullets he had fired were enough.

  Tom had aimed at the left lower side of the hull, at the road wheels driving the Bradley's track. One of Tom's rifle bullets had hit a road wheel, while the other had hit the left front drive sprocket, causing havoc with the Bradley's left track and making it jam. The Bradley, its engine screaming furiously, had been moving at top speed, streaming in to finish the kill, and the results were disastrous. The heavy, armored personnel carrier turned wildly, spinning out of control, its one working track vainly pushing the earth. Then the Bradley fell to its side, its road wheels whooshing on helplessly and the engine roaring in impotent rage.

  Tom slowly raised himself up, just in time to see Ramirez calmly walk up to the Bradley from its rear, aim his rifle at the back of the Bradley's turret and quickly squeeze off ten rounds. The M82 Barrett armor-piercing rounds, fired from twenty feet away, easily penetrated the thinner armor at the back of the Bradley's turret.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a small explosion came from within the Bradley, followed by another larger one. Black oily smoke started pouring out from it, quickly followed by ugly, red flames. It took the Bradley less than a minute to become a huge, red torch.

  "Ammo in the turret," Ramirez whispered in scorn while he walked over to Tom and Sergeant Jebadiah. Ramirez pulled away his empty magazine, pulled back his rifle's charging handle and glanced into the firing chamber to make sure that no bullet waited there, and then he hung the rifle on the conformal ammo pack on his leg.

  Tom slowly rose to his shaking feet. His right arm lay on the ground at his feet, useless. His feet were peppered with bullet holes, three that had pierced all the way through. His torso was relatively unscathed, but his head had suffered multiple hits.

  He felt all the injuries his Serpent had suffered, and Tom marveled again that he could still stand. Sergeant Jebadiah sat on the ground near them. He had suffered from a trio of cannon-round hits on his torso, but apart from that, he was okay.

  Captain Emerson walked over and now stood in front of them.

  "The Serpents are not your bodies. They are not biological nor do they have flesh and blood. When hit, your minds feel pain only because they remember pain. For you, now, there is no pain. While you can still think, there is no reason not to follow orders and continue the mission."

  Tom started to hate the captain's lifeless voice.

  The two utility trucks drove up and stopped next to the Serpents.

  "Return the weapons to the trucks," the captain commanded, and Tom returned his rifle and his conformal ammo pack.

  "As a team, your performance was poor. You did not coordinate well, nor did you act as a squad. You must remember to use your radio links to maintain contact with your Serpent squad members."

  "We coordinated perfectly," said a voice, and Tom realized it was Ramirez. With his damaged head and sensors, Tom turned and stared at Ramirez in surprise.

  "Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant Jebadiah provided the distracting element, forcing the enemy to concentrate on them while I flanked it and shot it through its weak point," Lieutenant Ramirez said. It was probably the longest sentence that Tom had heard the lieutenant say.

  Tom considered his own sorry state and looked at Sergeant Jebadiah, whose Serpent still reeled under the impact and damage done to its torso. Tom started worrying that, judging by the way Jebadiah’s Serpent had trouble standing straight, the containment chamber holding Jebadiah's body might have been damaged in the firefight.

  "Lieutenant Ramirez, look at your teammates. They are not in any condition to continue fighting. In a real mission, you would have had to continue the mission alone, without backup. You need backup, Lieutenant Ramirez. In a few hours, we will start going over the mission and what intelligence we have about the enemy. You cannot afford to lose teammates. The third and final exercise will be tomorrow. You won’t survive it if you won’t fight as a team."

  As far as Tom could tell, Ramirez did not really care what happened to his teammates, and nothing the captain said would change anything.

  "Sergeant Jebadiah, though it is a laudable action, throwing yourself in harm's way for a teammate is not something that should be done without consideration of the tactical situation. Look at the result. We now have two damaged Serpents instead of one. Remember, the Serpent's torso, the pilot's chamber, can be penetrated only by something that has the penetrating power equivalent to that required to kill an M1A2 battle tank. A Bradley turret cannon has the penetrating power to destroy only other armored personnel carriers and older Soviet battle tanks. It certainly cannot penetrate a Serpent's torso compartment."

  "Yes, Sir," Sergeant Jebadiah answered immediately.

  "Lieutenant Riley, the Serpent's speed cannot protect it indefinitely. Remember this."

  In other words, I cannot run from everything. Tom didn’t have to look at Ramirez to feel his Serpent’s scornful gaze.

  The two utility trucks came and stopped next to the four Serpents.

  "Stow the rifles in the trucks. Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant Jebadiah, you will be taken for repairs before we continue."

  Tom put his rifle in the truck, along with his conformal ammo pack. He and Sergeant Jebadiah climbed aboard the second truck after Tom had picked up his torn right arm off the ground.

  "Lieutenant Ramirez, stow your weapon." Tom was not surprised the captain had to order Ramirez twice to surrender his weapon.

  They rode back to the hangar, Tom holding his right arm with his left hand. He looked at it, focusing his damaged sensors on his amputated appendage. It did not look so menacing now, just a long black limb with a big limp hand. He looked at the torn section, expecting to see some sparks and dangling wires. There were no wires, just an unintelligible jumble of what appeared to be printed circuits and other mechanical components Tom could not recognize.

  What did I expect to see, blood?

  Chapter 9

  Day Three, Fort Belvoir, Virginia

  Tom was hung again on the scaffol
d, his arms tied up and his legs held down while additional metal restraints looped around his head and torso. Tech people moved around his Serpent's body, going up and down ladders to check the various damaged areas on it.

  "The Bradley cannon packs a wallop, doesn’t it?" Tom said, but not one of the people around him paid the slightest attention.

  "At least Sergeant Jebadiah suffered less hits. The mission was not a total failure. Did Lieutenant Ramirez suffer any damage?"

  Complete silence. Every one of the tech people just went on working. Tom would have thought his speakers weren't working if his audio sensors hadn't picked up his own words.

  "I just hope the enemy doesn't have as much firepower."

  They started rolling in several trays on small metal wheels. As soon as Tom saw them, he zoomed in on the things they held: black armor plates, and Serpent legs and arms. Replacement parts, Tom thought with some trepidation.

  "Have you ever treated Serpents with worse hits? What kind of damage can a Serpent suffer before it losses all operational capability?"

  The lab-coat man came into the hall then. He looked Tom up and down and shook his head, making his long ponytail fly behind him.

  "It was brand new just one day ago," the man murmured and started climbing a ladder to go up to the scaffolding holding Tom's Serpent.

  "How are you going to replace the parts?" Tom asked. "Are you going to anesthetize me? Will this hurt?"

  Tom's left arm was tied tightly by metal restraints and held to his side, but he could still feel the man open the armor panel above his arm computer and start manipulating the icons on its display.

  "Are you going to pull me out of the Serpent to perform the repairs?" Just saying those words made Tom feel strange. Did he want to get out of the Serpent? He was suddenly not so sure.

  Something changed, making Tom pause to find out what. He suddenly lost all feeling in the stump of his right arm, both legs and the frontal parts of his torso, where the Bradley's cannon round had hit. He tried moving his legs then but nothing happened. He couldn't feel the legs nor could he move them, however much he tried.

  He looked down as best as he could but the arm computer display was out of his field of vision, and he couldn't see what the lab-coat man was doing.

  Tom tried moving his limbs yet again; it was a reflex he couldn't control, something coming from way within him. It was … he just had to get away! Had to move! Had to tear away the restraints holding his body. A scream welled up from inside him, bubbling up, tearing all his inner inhibitions. He tried to control it as best he could, but some sort of mechanical noise did emerge out of his speakers.

  "Move it, people. We have fifteen minutes to get him operational," the lab-coat man said tersely. Tom watched as the technical people used special tools to ply apart black armor plates on his legs. Yet another kind of tool was used to pull his legs out of their sockets, and then they placed the legs they had brought with them next to his body, pressed them against the sockets, and forced them in, making sure they and the components inside fit perfectly. There were no wires, just sockets and electronic components with specialized plugs that were fitted together without leaving any gaps.

  Though Tom was frightened at first, there was no pain. Tom felt strange when he did see them replacing his legs. His legs, Tom mused. In less than twenty-five hours, the Serpent's legs had become his own. Large, lean, black, armored and alien as the Serpent's body was, Tom now thought of it as his own. The scream that still bubbled and stewed inside him started dying.

  Though it still gave him a queasy feeling, he followed the tech people as best as he could, trying to see and memorize everything. Too bad, he couldn't activate his video recording system, but his arm computer was out of his reach for the moment.

  The Serpent was his body, after all, his weapon, and a good warrior always tried to learn as much as possible about his weapons, their maintenance and everything else he could. You could never know when this information might save your life.

  The tech people continued working, replacing some damaged armor panels on his torso and a few of the sensors on his head. Finally, he saw them reach the stump of his right hand. They removed the small torn section that remained and put in a new right hand. Tom whipped his head to the left and saw the lab-coat man tap the display, which was still out of Tom's field of vision.

  Suddenly feeling—wonderful glorious sensation, world-encompassing feeling—returned to Tom's legs.

  "Let’s run some checks. Lieutenant Riley, try moving the foot of your left leg. Now try moving the knee. Now all the leg. Now let's move to the right foot."

  It took only a short while for the lab-coat man to give Tom the okay. He closed the armor panel over the Serpent's diagnostic display and ordered his people to release Tom from the scaffolding. Tom took several experimental steps, but he knew everything was all right. He really felt great. He moved his new right arm, flexing his fingers, and moving his elbow and shoulder. The many small motors and relays worked perfectly, humming and buzzing together in a harmony that sounded better than any song or musical piece Tom had ever heard. He felt no different than he had felt before being hit by the Bradley. Maybe he felt even better.

  "Lieutenant Riley, please follow us."

  Tom, the lab-coat man and the usual escort of armed soldiers moved through the corridors of the hangar, heading outside to the training ranges.

  "How did you turn off my legs and arm before you replaced them with new ones?"

  "Your arm computer," the lab-coat man said tersely.

  Tom pulled away the protecting panel and touched the display.

  "How? With the administration menu visible inside, I felt good, but I can't activate it without the password." Tom said.

  The lab-coat man said nothing, just glancing repeatedly at his wristwatch. Tom then realized he hadn't seen even one cellular phone since entering the base.

  "So, what's the password?"

  "You don't need it," was the lab-coat man's only response.

  Tom stopped walking, making the lab-coat man and the armed soldiers behind them stop as well. Tom, who had folded down in order to move through the corridors, now partly unfolded his legs and took a step towards the lab-coat man who seemed unconcerned even as the black machine monster now towered above him, the grotesque, horned viper's head looking straight at him.

  "I may need that password. Give it to me," Tom said. He regretted that he didn't have Ramirez's talent in intimidation, as the lab-coat man seemed totally unconcerned, keeping his hands in his lab-coat pockets while facing Tom's Serpent.

  "Put the request in with Captain Emerson. Now, if you please, we're running on a tight schedule here."

  Tom, grumbling silently, resumed walking. He heard a sharp click behind him. Had the soldiers been ready to shoot him if he hadn't cooperated? Tom found he didn't really care. Why did they refuse to give him the administration password? What did they have to hide? Tom had no doubt the captain would have refused as well. Tom wondered if the captain had the password to his own computer.

  Outside the base, Sergeant Jebadiah was waiting with his own honor escort of armed soldiers.

  "Ten clicks to the north. The captain is waiting for you," the lab-coat man said. Tom glanced at him and the twenty or so armed soldiers standing behind him, most armed with anti-tank missiles.

  "Let's go," Tom told Sergeant Jebadiah, and they took off, running onto the training ground. Tom looked behind him once. The lab-coat man and the soldiers didn't re-enter the hangar till the Serpents were at least one hundred yards away. The steel doors closed behind them, sliding on well-oiled tracks.

  "Sergeant, I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier in the training field," Tom said.

  "It was nothing, Lieutenant. Just doing my job, pulling the officers' assess out of the fire. No offense, Sir," Jebadiah said.

  "How are you feeling now, Sergeant?"

  "I'm alright, Sir. I am ready to go back into action. It's really great how the Serpent
can take all that punishment, then a few repairs and it's all ready to go again. Wish I had had the Serpent three years ago. Maybe the cities would have stayed ours, Sir." The sergeant said.

  "It didn't bother you, them replacing parts of your Serpent?"

  "No, Sir. I was just glad they put me back together as good as new to go back to training, Sir. What is bothering me, Sir, is that nobody wants to talk to me. Everyone has a real tight mouth in this base. Even the grunts don't want to say a word."

  Tom said nothing. He was never very social anyway, but since he was put into the Serpent it seemed he had become even less social. He hadn't even considered talking to soldiers, unless it was to get some information out of them.

  "And chow, Sir. I miss chow. Well, not exactly "chow," Sir. Army food was never something to write home about, Sir, no offense. I just miss sitting with the people. And drinking just beer and stuff. Nothing stiffer. Every Monday the bros and me would have a drinking night, if we could, with all the shifts and things. Yesterday was Monday. I missed it."

  Tom tried to imagine a Serpent sitting in a bar with a bunch of friends.

  "But Sergeant, they can pull us out of the Serpents whenever we want," Tom said.

  Sergeant Jebadiah shook his viper's head sadly. Even the demonic aerials on his head seemed less intimidating now.

  "I asked. They won’t let us out till the mission is over, unless we want to pull out of the mission altogether. I'm alright, Lieutenant, really. I just miss my Rest and Relaxation. Now, the Serpent unit is okay, really, but everybody's an officer, and I'm the only grunt."

  They ran on silently for a time, just the internal whirring sounds of their Serpents' mechanical parts singing out softly their deadly and precise tune.

  "Interesting, isn't it? They repaired the Serpents, but they didn't even check our real bodies inside."

  "Don't worry, Sir, they must use them computers to see we are all right inside."