Mech (imperium)

by V. B. Larson

  Droad steepled his hands and looked saddened. “I must personally apologize for the corrupt behavior of my predecessor. He brought a great deal of dishonor to my office. I find it difficult to grieve for him.”

  Bili snorted. “Good riddance. The bastard deserved it.”

  “Quite,” agreed Droad.

  Jarmo’s phone beeped and he opened the link. He spoke in Finnish, his deep bass voice rumbling about the cabin like distant thunder. “We’re leaving the Stormbringers behind in the atmospheric envelope. We’re safe from enemy attack now until we reach the orbital station. I’m organizing the assault into thirds, sir. We’ll hit all the open docking portals at once.”

  “Good. Let’s just hope the ship’s blastdoors are still open,” said Droad. He turned back to the skald, who was now rocking himself, humming a soft melody. He frowned. “He did appear to be trying to tell us something. What was it he said? Parent?”

  “Perhaps he meant one of the aliens. One of the ones we were questioned by, the big ones that did most of the-feasting. I believe the translating thing called it a Parent,” said Sarah.

  “One of their queens?” asked Droad.

  “Yes.”

  Before they could continue a sudden lurch in the flitter’s flight path indicated they were closing on the orbital station. They settled back in their seats while high-gee maneuvers were made. The flitter braked harshly, pressing them deep into the padding. Outside the clouds were long since gone. They had been replaced by the blackness of space and the blazing glare of Garm’s sun. Pinpoints of light marked the stars. Below was the wide blue-white disk of Garm.

  Sarah became nervous. She wrapped both arms around her chest and squeezed. She put head back against the headrest and clenched her eyes tightly.

  Droad watched in sympathy. “I can see that you have no desire to face the aliens again. If you like, you could stay with the flitters.”

  Sarah shook her head. Even though her hair was unkempt, Droad could not help but notice the pleasing way it fell about her face. “I’d feel better on the ship with you,” she said. “The only safety from these things is having a gun in your hand.”

  Twenty-One

  Everything went smoothly until they got to the orbital station. Beneath the massive shadow of the Gladius, the orbiter crouched like a beetle hugging the boots of a giant. The Gladius itself was a wonder to behold. Glowing modules rotated slowly about the central torus seemingly disconnected from it due to a trick of light and shadow. It grew as they approached until it filled the observation port, overflowed it, expanded to devour everything they could see. The tiny orbiter turned from a beetle into something the size of a large building. Open docking bays yawned to meet them.

  “Sir, the Gladius is heating the power coils of its laser batteries.”

  Sarah looked alarmed. “I thought they weren’t armed.”

  “The ship isn’t a battlewagon, but they have enough armament to destroy flitters,” said Jarmo.

  “Do something before they fry us,” Sarah hissed at Droad.

  “Increase our velocity,” ordered Droad. “Come in under full thrust.”

  Jarmo barked into his communicator. The flitter shook and lurched. Power rumbled through the deck. In the endless night around them the other flitters emitted tongues of flame.

  Without warning, the flitter immediately ahead of them gushed violet light from the cockpit area, broke into two burning halves, exploded in a rush of silent heat.

  The lurching and weaving of the flitter increased as the pilot mech jinked hard from side to side, presenting a more difficult target.

  “There’ll only be a few seconds before…” began Sarah, she trailed off as another invisible, stabbing laser beam incinerated a flitter at the edge of their formation.

  “Let’s pull out. Let’s run,” said Droad.

  “No,” said Jarmo, shaking his great head.

  “He’s right, we can’t run now,” added Sarah. Droad turned to regard her, feeling out of his element. Space battles were beyond his experience. “We’re too late now,” she explained. “They waited until we were right on top of them so that we couldn’t run. The only thing to do is to try to close in and board.”

  “Transmit our identity codes to the ship,” ordered Droad. “Perhaps they think we’re aliens.”

  “We’ve been doing that since we launched, sir,” replied Jarmo.

  Another strike came out of the blackness. There was a reflection this time that came in through the viewport. A blinding radiance lit up the cabin for an instant, Droad swore he could see the bones of his hand like an x-ray image. Everyone was left blinking at after-images, purple blotches on their retinas. Somewhere behind them another flitter tore apart. Heated gases burnt out quickly; the hot bubbling flesh of the troops was transformed instantly into frozen foam by the void.

  Then they reached the docking bays. Flitters crowded one another into the open doors like hungry air-swimmers jostling over a fruit-laden branch. Even as they reached the mouth of their designated bay, they noted that the doors were sliding shut.

  “We aren’t going to make it,” said Bili with remarkable calm.

  “We’ll make it,” Droad assured him. He wiped a droplet of sweat from his temple.

  Seconds later, as they made their final approach, it became clear that they would make it, barring another laser attack. But at the final moment, just before they reached the yawning docking doors, there was a gut-wrenching burst of thrust. The flitter swerved off course and roared away from Garm and the orbiter, toward the imposing bulk of the Gladius. More flashbulb explosions came from behind them.

  “What the hell’s going on?” demanded Droad.

  Jarmo was staring at his communicator in perplexity. “I’m out of communication with the other flitters. The last report I received indicated that the orbiter itself was under laser attack.”

  “Well, get them back,” snarled Droad.

  “But why didn’t we enter the docking bay?” asked Bili.

  “Ask the pilot!” said Sarah. She busied herself fixing a vacuum-proof survival-bubble around herself. She handed another of the plastic bags to Bili, who worked it over his body with a grim professionalism that belied his years.

  The flitter was now so close to the Gladius that they could have suited up and walked out. They braked hard and maneuvered between the stalks that led out from the central torus to the modules. The endless black spanse that was the hull of the central torus rushed to greet them.

  “The pilot mech isn’t answering the intercom,” Jarmo informed them. He snapped off his harness and sped up the aisle between the seats, moving hand over hand between the plastic loops placed there for zero-gee travel. The door slid open and the pilot mech was visible from the rear.

  Before Jarmo could enter the cockpit, however, the ship lurched violently again, braking and diving directly at the dark hull of the Gladius. Sarah gasped and Bili groaned aloud. When it seemed that impact was imminent, the observation ports suddenly blacked out entirely.

  “We’re inside one of the big airlocks,” said Sarah in a hushed voice.

  Soon, the flitter was brought to a rest on its skids. The centrifugal gravity of the Gladius took over and they felt the familiar pressure of weight again on their limbs. Sounds came through the walls of the flitter now that there was air to carry them. They heard the clanging of the air pumps, the grinding sounds of huge machinery in motion.

  They rushed to the cockpit door, but the mech lieutenant beat them to the airlock. Jarmo had his black-barreled pistol out again, this time leveled on the mech’s sensory array. While they confronted one another, they barely noticed the thin form of the skald as he slipped past them and exited the flitter.

  “Report, Lieutenant,” demanded Droad.

  The mech turned to them and made an ushering motion with his massive bio-mechanical gripper. “I suggest we evacuate the flitter immediately, Governor. Whomever was operating the laser must know we’re down here.”

 
“Where is down here? ” demanded Sarah.

  “We’re in the hold. I repeat: we should evacuate the ship.”

  Behind them the militia troops were already pouring out of the main cabin exits and taking up positions amongst the towering boxes, cartons and drums. The Governor and the others quickly joined them. While they took cover, the mech Lieutenant made his report.

  “I realized at the last instant, sir, that entering the orbiter would not save us. The enemy made the mistake of firing on the orbiter before all of us had entered. This, in effect, tipped their hand.”

  “Did you signal your intentions to any of the other mechs?”

  “Yes, but only I reacted in time and made it to safety.”

  “What about the rest of my men?” blurted Droad. “What about the flitters that made it into the orbiter?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Of course, you could not have seen what happened to the orbiter from the forward cabin. It was destroyed.”

  Droad stood stock still for a moment. The militiamen, Sarah and Bili looked equally shocked. The skald reappeared and stood behind the mech Lieutenant, looking at no one.

  “You mean they’re all dead?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This is all we’ve got left to retake the ship with?” asked Droad, waving his arm at the others. He knew it was a mistake to sound so defeatist in front of them, but he couldn’t help it. “We don’t even have a full company here.”

  “Correct, sir. Now, I suggest we get moving.”

  Droad nodded dully and they all trooped after the mech. He seemed to be undisturbed by the loss that had stunned the humans. Only the skald seemed similarly unaffected. Droad noted that he was keeping quite close to the mech. Under different circumstances, he might have found the skald’s new found loyalties amusing.

  “But why didn’t the other mechs figure it out?” Bili piped up.

  It took Droad a moment to realize the boy was addressing him. “Eh? Oh, well, this mech is an officer. His capacity for independent thinking and acting on his own initiative despite his orders is greater than the others.”

  “So he’s the smartest one, huh?”

  “Right,” said Droad vaguely. He sought out Jarmo. “No contact?”

  Jarmo shook his head. There was another of the giants next to him, Droad was pleased to note. It was Gunther. At least he hadn’t lost all of them. For perhaps the first time in his life, Droad felt the despair of harsh defeat.

  “Our situation is critical,” said Jarmo.

  “To say the least,” agreed Droad.

  “We must shift our tactics from those of an assaulting army to those of a survival-oriented guerilla group. We must husband what resources we have left. We must bide our time.”

  Droad heard little of it. He eyed Sarah and Bili thoughtfully. Although they were just civilians, they seemed adept at survival. Still, it had been terribly arrogant of him to bring them along on this attack. He had placed them in mortal danger. He had failed them.

  “Sir?”

  “Eh?” said Droad, realizing that the others were staring at him. There had been a question asked, and he had missed it entirely. A moment of hot embarrassment flashed over him. He shook himself, ordered himself sternly to retake the reins of command. He still was responsible for the survivors. He looked up and contrived to appear confident. He threw back his shoulders and adopted a serious expression.

  “For all we know the laser attack was fired by the crew,” he said, addressing the others. “Perhaps they thought we were more aliens. Despite all our identity transmissions, they never did answer us. Then again, perhaps the laser was set up for auto-defense and attacked us while the crew was busy.”

  Some of the men seemed to take heart at this suggestion. He could tell that they had assumed that the aliens were firing at them, meaning that the aliens were in control of the ship. Even the slim hope that there was some other explanation, that it was all an accident, uplifted their morale.

  Jarmo waited until the men were out of earshot before pointing out a critical flaw in Droad’s theory. “This seems unlikely, given that the laser destroyed the orbiter at a critical point.”

  “Yes. Hmm.” Droad glanced about to see if the men were listening. “This whole situation does look like a set up, a trap. Either the aliens or Mai Lee ambushed us, I’ll wager.”

  Jarmo agreed.

  For a time they followed the mech through the vast maze of the hold. He seemed familiar with every aspect of it. They encountered no one, except for a few dead security men. The mech explained that they had died trying to keep his mech platoon in this hold. Droad made a wry face at the twisted bodies, and the mood of the men dampened again. It seemed unlikely that the crew of the Gladius would warmly receive anyone allied with the mechs. Reaching one of the distant walls of the hold, they found a blasted-open portal that led into a service duct. Trotting in single file, faces slick with nervous sweat and speaking little, they entered the bowels of the ship.

  As they climbed up further into the heart of the great vessel, the signs of combat increased. Bulkheads were sealed and had to be forced. Automated cannon were set to ambush anyone ascending the decks, these had to be disarmed or circumvented. Dead crewmen and dead aliens lay strewn about the darkened corridors. The metal floors were pooled with blood and other inhuman and less identifiable body fluids.

  The central galleries were huge airy chambers that normally operated as open marketplaces. Now, instead of being thronged with traders the chambers were vast mausoleums: dark, silent and stinking of death.

  It was when they had reached the central galleries of the ship that the skald attempted to talk with Droad.

  Droad was resting with his head in his hands. His sides were heaving slightly from the harsh march through the ship. He looked over toward Sarah and Bili, who seemed more tired than the others did. He would give them another minute.

  “Feasting…” said an odd, croaking voice. Droad looked up to discover the long pale face of the skald looking down at him. He had approached silently and without warning. Droad found his stealth and bizarre behavior disconcerting. He frowned.

  “What do you want?”

  “The lines of the feasting…” said the skald. His face worked with fantastic concentration. His hands rose up slowly from his sides, white palms exposed and spread flat. Large blue eyes seemed almost luminous in the center of a floating nimbus of flaxen hair.

  “I don’t understand you. Are you trying to tell me something?” asked Droad. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. His curiosity was engaged. Could this lunatic help him?

  “You must follow the lines to the feasting,” replied the skald with great sincerity. He nodded to Droad slowly and smiled with relief, as if he had succeeded at an amazing effort of communication and imparted great knowledge. Still smiling vaguely, he began to step slowly from side to side, then to shuffle about in a circle. He hummed tonelessly. Droad thought of a corpse performing a strange flat-footed waltz.

  It was clear that the man was utterly insane. Droad sighed, reseating himself. Had he sunk so low that he looked for answers for his problems from the deranged? He put his face back into his hands for a moment’s rest. Quietly, the skald shuffled away.

  “We have a contact, sir,” interrupted Jarmo.

  Droad’s head snapped up. He reached for the phone, careful not to touch the transmit button. It wouldn’t do for anyone to pinpoint them. He listened only. Unnoticed, the skald’s pallid form slipped away, heading toward the entrance of the aft duct system.

  “Sounds like that witch of a senator, Mai Lee,” he commented. “All she’s doing is requesting my response. Can you get me video?”

  Jarmo presented another handset with a tiny screen on it. In flat 2D a face flickered into existence. It was a metallic head of some kind. For a moment, Droad believed this to be some new and terrifying variety of alien as yet unencountered. Then he realized it was the stylized helmet of a hi-tech battlesuit.

  He pursed his lips and
grimaced in annoyance. “Where did she get that thing? Clearly against all Nexus proscriptions. Not that I’m surprised.”

  Jarmo looked on impassively. Droad knew he was patiently waiting for him to make his decision. Communicating with the woman could mean a dangerous enemy would pinpoint their positions. Or it could be an opportunity for the last remaining human forces on the ship to rejoin.

  Droad rubbed his chin and lips, eyeing the tiny metallic image with distrust. “Just a recording repeating the same message. Have you pinpointed her?”

  “Bridge section,” replied Jarmo.

  Droad smiled grimly. “So she did fire the laser.”

  “Fire control could have been diverted at either the redundant bridge or the manual controls at the laser turret itself.”

  Droad frowned. “We need information.”

  Jarmo was silent.

  “If we make a short transmission, can we be out of here quickly enough to avoid attack?”

  “I don’t know the layout of the ship well enough to judge. Let’s consult the Lieutenant.”

  Droad agreed. He smiled slightly, noting that Jarmo, unlike everyone else in the group, always referred to the mechs by their ranks, never just as ‘the mech’ as the rest of the humans tended to do. He wondered if his lack of labeling had to do with his own genetic specializations. Although much less of a freak than a mech, some of the same technology, and hence the same stigma from normal humans, applied to Jarmo.

  “If we maneuver down two decks using the aft conduit system, then double back into the primary filtration units, it is very unlikely any search party would be able to locate us,” the mech informed them.

  “Ready the team, then. In one minute I want everybody on their feet and ready to bolt into the ducts again.”

  Jarmo jumped up and everyone hurried after him and the mech. When he had them in position for a fast get away and had trotted back to the Governor’s position, Droad opened a channel to the bridge.

  The connection was made and the face of Mai Lee’s battlesuit flickered into view again. This time it was a profile shot, however. The video pickup was limited, but Droad made out movement behind her. Large men in full body-shell passed back and forth with a sense of urgency. The dragon’s head of Mai Lee’s suit swung back to face him. He noted the eerie blue radiance that emanated from the jagged metal mouth.