Dead Mech (4 page)

“I finished washing Harlow’s mech and I’m
working on the Rookie’s mech. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Jay closed his eyes and pinched the bridge
of his nose. “No, what I wanted was for
me
to work on the
Rookie’s mech. I’m just going to have to go back over all of your
work to make sure it’s right.”

“Fuck you, Rind,” Jethro barked, lowering
the lift to the ground. He handed Jay his span-wrench. “You really
need to start sleeping in a bunk. You’re a grouchy bitch in the
morning.”

***

A mech hand crested the newly formed
crevice’s side, struggling for purchase. The giant alloy fingers
dug into the edge, anchoring them fully. With a groan of damaged
hydraulics, Bisby pulled himself from the fissure, rolling his mech
yards from the opening before standing.

“Stan?...Stan?” he croaked into his com. “
Goddammit Stanislaw! Can you hear me?”

He was met with static as his damaged mech
swayed its way over to the smoking debris that was Stanislaw’s
machine. He tried to bring up life sensors, but only basic
navigation scanners seemed to cooperate.

“Shit!” he yelled, pushing his mech on.

***

Mathew walked back into the mess, nearly
running into Commander Capreze.

“You heading towards the hangar, Mathew?”
Capreze asked.

“No, sir. Wasn’t planning on it,” Mathew
responded.

“You sure about that,” Capreze laughed,
handing the mech pilot a full mug of steaming hot coffee.

Mathew took the mug, looking at Capreze,
puzzled.

“Jay’s thirsty…and in a mood. My time is
better spent getting ready for the briefing, don’t you think?”

Mathew laughed, “Sure thing, sir. I’ll make
sure Mr. Grumpy Pants gets his fix.”

Capreze clapped Mathew on the shoulder.
“Good man. Way to take one for the team.”

***

Bisby was close enough to see the extent of
the damage Stanislaw’s mech had taken. He gulped, prayed and swore
at the same time.

“Stan?!? Come in man!” Silence.

Bisby switched on his loudspeakers, feedback
squelched at ear shattering levels. “FUCK!” Bisby roared, cutting
the switch. His already battle damaged hearing rang and
protested.

He stopped and took a deep breath. Grabbing
his binocs he peered down at the twisted cockpit below, hoping for
signs of life. After focusing briefly he was rewarded with
movement. Stanislaw was alive.

Bisby looked closer and gasped. He pulled
the binocs away, tears welled.

***

“Rookie arrives today,” Harlow said over a
mouthful of synth-eggs.

June straightened. “Really? Today?”

“Yep,” Masters responded, sitting down with
his second tray of food.

“Careful, Darling, don’t lose that tight
bod,” Harlow joked.

“Don’t you worry, Babycakes. It’s all so I
can keep up with you.” He leaned in and kissed her strongly, then
pulled back, licking his lips. “Mmmm….eggy.”

Harlow laughed, sending bits of yellow
flying. Jane recoiled.

“Jeezus, you two are fucking gross!” she
snapped, getting up from the table and stalking out of the mess
hall.

Harlow frowned. “What’s up her twat?”

“Nothing, that’s the problem.”

***

Stanislaw could smell the acid from the fuel
cells. His mech was down hard.

He tried to reach for the strap release, but
his right arm wouldn’t cooperate. He didn’t want to look, but knew
he only had moments to get his ass out.

He pissed himself when he saw his arm two
feet away, wedged between hatch brackets.

The cockpit shook violently. The dead mech
was on him and Stanislaw wept as he wrenched the pistol from its
holster and put the barrel to his head.

A hulking shadow of death fell over him as
he pulled the trigger.

***

Jay jumped when Mathew sat down next to him.
Closing his eyes, he took two deep breaths. “Don’t you pilots have
a rec room to go play in?”

Mathew laughed, offering the mug of coffee.
“You want this or not?”

“Thanks,” Jay sighed, taking a sip from the
mug.

Mathew studied the schematics, then pointed
at the coffee ring. “If that works it’ll change the entire battle
landscape. The deaders won’t stand a chance.”

Jay glared at Mathew, daggers for eyes.
Mathew drew back. “What? It’s fucking genius.”

Jay followed Mathew’s gaze and saw what he
did. It was genius.

***

Wrenching at his straps, Bisby tried to free
himself from his cockpit, hoping he could reach Stanislaw in
time.

“Stan! No! It’s me! Don’t shoot!” he
screamed. “IT’S ME!!!!!”

The pistol shot rang out, seeming
insignificant compared to the cacophony of battle only minutes
before.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” Bisby roared,
pounding his fists against his cockpit’s frame until they were
cracked and bleeding.

Slowly, fearfully, Bisby lifted his binocs,
looking down at Stanislaw’s wrecked mech. It took him a second to
focus, but when he did, he wished he hadn’t.

Bisby prayed some day he could erase that
image from his memory.

***

Masters and Harlow left the mess hall,
grabbing at each other and laughing. Harlow stumbled, tripping them
both up and they crashed to the hall floor. She quickly took
advantage and pinned Masters, straddling his hips with hers, slowly
rocking back and forth.

Masters licked his lips and let out a
playful growl. Harlow leaned down, nuzzling against his neck.

“Careful what you start,” Masters warned,
his breath coming in short gasps as Harlow nibbled at his ear.

“Think we have time for a quick one before
the briefing?” Harlow asked.

“No. You don’t,” Capreze said, stepping past
them both.

***

Using all his skill as a mech pilot, Bisby
carefully pulled apart Stanislaw’s cockpit, exposing the body of
his mentor and friend.

The colossal hands lifted Stanislaw’s body
away from the wreckage and into the air. Bringing the body to eye
level, Bisby said his silent goodbyes, then deposited the corpse in
an auxiliary cargo pocket.

Bisby turned his mech 360 degrees, trying to
get his bearings, not trusting the minimal info his navigation
scanners were giving him.

He spotted the ridge and pushed his crippled
mech in that direction. The direction of the mech base. The
direction of home.

***

“Okay, everyone settle down,” Commander
Capreze said. “Let’s get through this as fast as possible and get
on our way.”

The mech pilots grabbed a seat, ready for
the daily briefing. Capreze sipped at his coffee, glanced at his
tablet then started in.

“Alright… Only real order for the day is to
keep an eye on Balsam Ridge. Harlow noticed some activity out there
yesterday and we should probably keep a watch on it. Harlow?”

“Nothing, really. Just some Rancher
movement. They didn’t engage, so I didn’t either, but they watched
my ass the whole time.”

“Okay, next quick item…”

***

Bisby pushed his mech as fast as he could
without the thing falling apart. He knew the damage was bad since
he couldn’t engage the motor drive; he was walking the thing in to
the base. Even with the hydraulics working, the long trek was
starting to take its toll on Bisby’s legs.

Off to his right he caught movement. He
tried activating scanners, but they were shot. He was walking
blind, a 50-ton target with a living meal in the cockpit and a
quickly putrefying corpse in the auxiliary cargo pocket. He raised
his binocs.

“Fucking great,” he muttered.

***

Downing the last of his coffee, Jay rubbed
his eyes and pushed away from his worktable. “That might actually
work…” he muttered. “But first, some real work.”

He crossed the hangar to a partially
dismantled mech, grabbing a span-hammer on the way. He surveyed the
mech, taking in the wounded behemoth.

Nodding to himself he raised the
span-hammer, took aim and whacked the mech in a junction point just
above its ankle. He listened carefully then whacked it again. This
time he smiled and tossed the span-hammer aside.

“Jethro! Put this heap back together! Try
not to fuck it up!”

***

Bisby watched the wave of zombies crest the
hill and swarm towards him. There must have been hundreds.

“Jeezus fuck! Where did they all come
from!?!” he cursed aloud.

He tried to outrun them, but his mech was
not cooperating. Accepting the inevitable, Bisby double checked his
weapons, turned and made a stand.

When the front of the undead horde was fifty
yards out he fired up the 50mms. Scorching hot lead ripped through
dead flesh, painting the wasteland grey and black.

“DIE ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!” he
screamed in his cockpit.

Row upon row of zombies fell, finally
dead.

***

“Need a hand,” Jethro asked, his grin
filling his voice.

Jay struggled with the six cables he had
hopelessly tangled around his legs. Jethro just watched him,
eyebrows raised, waiting for Jay to give in.

Within seconds, Jay’s shoulders slumped in
defeat. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Jethro asked enjoying Jay’s
torture.

“Yes, you can help me,” Jay growled.

“What’s the magic word?”

Jay whirled on Jethro, intending to throttle
him, but his feet stuck solid and he lost his balance.

Jethro smirked and offered his hand. Jay
slapped it away. Jethro offered it again, unfazed.

Jay gave up and laughed. “Thanks.”

***

The right 50mm overheated within minutes.
Bisby watched it redline and swore as the gun froze up, metal
fusing. He flipped switches, sending all available ammunition to
the left gun without stopping the flow of bullets aimed at the
overwhelming zombie masses only yards away.

Unbelievably a few zombies made it past his
onslaught, climbing his mech’s legs, fighting to get at the flesh
taunting them above.

Bisby agilely picked off the zombies,
flinging each against the ground, pulverizing them.

Eyes manic, Bisby grinned wickedly,
forgetting his loss and remembering why he had always dreamed of
being a mech pilot.

***

Jay settled into the cockpit, secured his
limbs and powered up the mech.

“So when do I get to do that?” Jethro asked
over the com.

“When you become Chief Mechanic,” Jay
responded. “Only the Commander, the pilots and the Chief Mechanic
have their Reaper chips altered. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you know how things are way out
here in the waste. Can’t rules be bent, just a little?”

“Fuck that! Last thing I need is your zombie
ass coming after me. I like your chip just the way it is.”

Smoke poured from the mech’s control
panels.

“Fuck!”

***

“Fuck this,” Bisby muttered. He started
flipping switches across his weapons array.

He emptied the 50mm, started in with the
plasma cannons, tossed in some plasma charges, fractal grenades and
a little home made napalm Jay was kind enough to fit his mech
with.

75 seconds was all that passed before
movement ceased on the valley floor.

The already barren terrain was now a
blackened hell, littered with smoldering zombie husks.

Bisby would have laid waste to God Himself
if He had been unlucky enough to be present. That wasn’t an issue;
Bisby had a bone to pick with God.

***

Commander Capreze ended the briefing,
dismissing the pilots to their respective duties. Mathew hung back
waiting for the others to leave then approached Capreze.

“Yes, Mathew?” Capreze asked, looking up
from his tablet.

“Has Doc Themopolous talked to you about
Foggy Bottom?” Mathew asked.

“No, why?”

“Not sure. She asked me if I’d heard
anything from there in a while. She wouldn’t go into details, but,
I don’t know, her tone was off.”

“How so?”

“More fear than worry. When did we trade
with them last?”

“Not sure, check the requisitions. Let me
know what you find out.”

“Sure thing.”

***

Bisby crested the ridge out of the valley
and turned his mech to survey the carnage he had wrought on the
landscape. His breath caught in his throat.

Sifting through the wreckage of Stanislaw’s
mech was One Arm. It tossed pieces of debris aside, hunting for
sustenance.

Bisby raised his binocs and watched in
horror as One Arm found Stanislaw’s severed right arm, cracked open
his cockpit and tossed the morsel to the ravenous zombie pilot
inside. Bisby wanted to put his binocs away, but he couldn’t tear
his eyes away.

One Arm turned and roared at Bisby in
triumph.

Rachel sat up in her cockpit, instinct
telling her to watch the horizon. Automatically she started to
strap herself in and activate weapons systems.

She watched and waited.

Nothing.

Knowing better than to trust only her eyes,
she dialed up the long-range sensors and pushed them to full
spectrum.

Nothing. Wait… There, miles out, something
moved. A mech. But whether it was living or dead, she couldn’t
tell.

Not one for drama, she didn’t sound the
claxons right away, waiting for a closer look and a little more
info.

The thing wasn’t moving fast, so she figured
she had time.

***

“Doctor?” Commander Capreze inquired,
knocking lightly on Themopolous’ office door. He waited politely
for an invitation.

Doctor Themopolous looked up from the
medical charts she was reviewing on her tablet. “Yes? Oh,
Commander, please come in. What can I do for you? Feeling
alright?”

Capreze chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine. I am here
to check on you, actually.” Capreze took a seat in one of the open
chairs set before Themopolous’ desk.