Mecha Corps (12 page)

 

The systems drills consisted of Sergeant Stoll on a screen running them through the three major Mecha systems: comms, weapons, and sensors. It was all pretty straightforward, controlled by thought through the neural interface. Still, everyone had to run through it again and again.

Matt’s Perfect Record picked it up immediately, so he turned his attention to the city and played with the limits of sensory-enhancement mode. There didn’t seem to be much it couldn’t do. He read the menus at Il Trattoria like they were in his own hands. He overhead conversations between anxious Auxiliaries as they talked about the pressure of their new schedules.

In the city, one building stood out from the rest: a sleek, mirrored monolith that twisted gracefully as it reached upward to touch the sky. At the top, glass balconies protruded, offering a vertiginous view of the city below. Matt zoomed in on the balconies and followed them up.

On the very top balcony, two men shook hands. Tags flickered over them in Matt’s sensory-enhanced viewscreen. One man was DR. S. ROTH; FURTHER CREDENTIALS REDACTED. The other was CONGRESSPERSON S. TOMITA, CHAIR OF UNION ADVANCED TECHNOLOGIES COMMITTEE.

Matt felt a shock of recognition. Dr. Roth. Dr. Salvatore Roth. The voice on the slate. The father of modern Mecha. The man who’d asked about him.

Dr. Roth and Congressperson Tomita shook hands, but their expressions were set and grim. Matt’s sensory enhancement brought him in at midgreeting.

“—san, it is a pleasure to receive you at our humble facility,” Dr. Roth said. His voice was thin and reedy through the enhancement, but intelligible.

Congressperson Tomita frowned. “Spare me the pleasantries. And spare the suffix as well. Japan was three hundred years ago. We’re all Union now.”

“I only want to make your visit as productive as possible.”

Tomita shook his head. “Productive for you, or for the Union?”

“For both of us.”

“You know we have grave concerns about your procedures and outcomes. You are deviating significantly from standard military training. Many feel there should be more oversight, including Prime Haal,” Tomita told him.

Dr. Roth nodded. “The new obedience, physical, and psych tests have led to only a single death in first Mesh.”

“It is still a death!” Congressperson Tomita hissed. “How many are actually usable?”

“We have over ten percent full-capability”—the audio dropped out momentarily—“on first Mesh. With additional neural conditioning, we expect to drive final full-piloting candidates into the twenty-percent range.”

“Terrible numbers!”

“Much higher than the two to five percent previously.”

Congressperson Tomita said something lost in the garble. He finally came back with, “—leadership believes the nature of your biomechanical—”

“The Union believes they need more Mecha pilots.” Dr. Roth cut off Tomita, his voice guttural and deadly. Then he softened. “You are within grasping distance of wiping out the scourge.”

Congressperson Tomita nodded, but he didn’t look at Dr. Roth.

“Would you prefer Rayder take another colony world?”

Matt started.
Another
colony world? Rayder had already taken a Union world? That never hit the news.

“Of course we must continue the campaign,” Congressperson Tomita said.

“Good,” Roth said. “I am delivering on my objectives. Now you must deliver on yours.”

Congressperson Tomita looked up at Dr. Roth. Heat-distortion of the image made his face into a writhing mask of pain. Audio garble ate his words.

When the audio came back, Dr. Roth was talking again: “—or you won’t get the Demon you most desperately crave.”

The next morning, Matt’s head felt like it was stuffed full of knives, and the shrill alarm was like someone pushing them deeper into his skull. He groaned and reached to turn it off. Even that slight movement sent crescendos of pain through his entire body. His digestive tract roiled and churned, filling his mouth with bile.

Sick. Great.
What new torture did Major Soto have planned for them today? Even the thought of getting in his Hellion again did nothing to rouse him.

When Matt finally levered himself up, he noticed his door screen had changed. It now read: OPEN: STANDARD CADET PRIVILEGES. RETAIN ACCESS CARD AT ALL TIMES.

Matt forced himself to shuffle to the door. A thin slot at the top of the screen held a small card, engraved with a realistic hologram of his face. It read: MATT STANDFORD LOWELL. MECHA CADET. INDUCTION GROUP 715.

Cadet? No longer cadet candidate?
Matt managed a weak grin. He’d piloted a Mecha. He was a full cadet now.

He flipped the card over, where it displayed an interactive map of the city, with the following tag: REPORT TO CADET HOUSING CAFETERIA.

Matt retched at the thought of food, but he followed orders and went down to the cafeteria. There, a smattering of men and women wearing gray cadet uniforms sat in groups of two or three. Some looked up when he walked in.
Fresh meat,
their smirks said. One guy nodded at an empty table, where a small, hand-lettered card read CADETS, GROUP 715.

Matt went to the table and sat. He didn’t want to get anywhere near the food. His head radiated pulses of pain as he slumped in a seat.

Above him, wall screens showed a live session from the latest Union Congress on Eridani, while a scrolling ticker reiterated the important points. Unicrats had maintained their slim margin over the Freecycles. Augmented Union Services were promised for outlying colony worlds. Talks proceeded with Percy’s Folly, an independent world considering Union membership after repeated Corsair attacks.

In an inset close-up, a talking head was jabbering Uni-cratese : How immensely valuable every habitable planet was, no matter how far toward the edge, or how young its charter, or how marginal its ecosystem. How Unification under standardized laws and practices promoted stability and growth, and how any other policy encouraged factions like the Corsairs.

“Did you get the number of the monster truck that hit me?” a familiar voice said. Matt jumped. It was Michelle. She slid into a seat and put her head in her hands.

“Monster truck?” Matt asked.

Michelle looked up at him. Her normally rosy complexion was pale, and dark circles nested under her eyes. “Old Earth expression. You know, ‘Don’t let the door hit ya where the dog shoulda bit ya’? ‘Easy as pie’?”

Matt shook his head.

Michelle sighed. “I forgot you aren’t a real silver-spoon type. They’re all into Earth culture.”

Matt suddenly realized what she’d been saying. “You’re sick, too?”

“More like a hangover.”

Things clicked into place in Matt’s aching, slow brain.
Hungover. We are hungover.

“From the Mecha?” he asked.

Michelle looked up, surprised. She nodded. “It
is
a helluva rush.”

Matt remembered the intense feeling of Mesh. Now just thinking about it made his agony fade. Maybe that’s what he needed—to get back in the Mecha. A strong pang of desire shot through his body.

“Do you think we’ll pilot Mecha again today?” Michelle asked.

“Not a chance,” said Peal, dropping into another seat. His dark complexion had an almost greenish cast, and his black hair stuck out in big spikes.

Michelle’s expression went from hunger to annoyance in an instant. “Why not?”

“It’s clear the neural interface is physically addictive,” Peal said. “Party line is that it’s only mental, though.”

“How do you know that?”

Peal extracted his slate and waved it at them. “If it wasn’t physical, they wouldn’t have extensive documentation on the treatment of MUNS, or Mecha Utilization Neural Syndrome.”

“You’re hacking training camp?” Matt asked.

Peal nodded, looking smug.

“Is that . . . uh, safe?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Peal said. “This city is a roach motel.”

“Roach motel?” Matt said.

Michelle nodded. “More old Earth slang. It means, ‘It’s a trap. Roaches go in, but they don’t come out.’ ”

“What does that have to do with—,” Matt began. More memories fell into place. The empty-looking cadets and corps. The throngs of Auxiliaries.

Peal nodded. “They’re pushing real hard for Jahl to join the Auxiliaries. Really hard.”

Michelle looked horrified. “And if he doesn’t?”

Peal shrugged. “I don’t think he’s going to disappear or anything cloak-and-dagger. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with a job on a colony world that makes Hyva look like Eridani.”

“What about you?” Matt asked.

“Everything has an angle.” Peal waved his slate and tapped his head. “You just have to figure out what it is.”

Matt didn’t know what to say. What were they up to now? A sudden memory of the conversation he’d overhead yesterday came back to him unbidden.

“There’s a lot of stuff going on here that we don’t know about,” Peal said, through a grin.

Ash slipped into a seat next to them without a word. She put her head down on the table and groaned.

“And a rousing ‘good morning’ to you too,” Peal said.

“Screw you,” Ash grumbled.

Peal just laughed. Ash flipped him off.

“What a fine group of cadets we have here!” boomed a familiar voice—Major Soto’s. He wore uniform-casual again: Corps pants and tight-fitting T-shirt with major’s stripes. Beside him stood Sergeant Stoll, looking impossibly crisp and perfect in her Auxiliary uniform.

Michelle sat up straight. “Good morning, sir!”

“Can it.” Soto pulled up a chair to the head of the table and sat in it backward. “I know how you all feel. Like shit. The good news is, we’ll run a dozen laps of the city now.”

The silence was so total you could hear a pin drop. Ratcheting laughter came from a group of cadets at another table. Peal went even greener.

Soto chuckled. “I’m joking. You aren’t in any shape for that.”

“What about—,” Michelle began.

“And you’re in no shape to be running Mecha,” Soto said, talking over her. Michelle sagged, defeated. Matt knew exactly how she felt.

“Who’re we missing?” Soto said, scanning the table.

“Cadet Peterov, sir,” Lena said.

“When he gets here, let him know it’s a free day.”

“Free day?” Ash asked.

“Yes. Congratulations, cadets. You earned it.”

Matt felt a rush of pride. He sat up straighter. They all did. Even Ash lifted her head off the table and gave everyone a wan grin. They were cadets now.

“Free, of course, is relative,” Soto said. “If you’re up to it, I’d recommend the Strategic Archive, where you can review Mecha battles and deployment, or Mecha Interface Training, where you can improve your fine motor skills—”

“Found it last night,” Kyle said, walking up. Except for the bags under his eyes, Matt had to begrudgingly admit that Kyle didn’t look that bad off.

“Last night?” Michelle asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got to catch up with Superman.” Kyle nodded at Matt.

“Does it work? Does it feel like being in a Mecha?” Michelle asked, leaning forward.

“I got my Mesh percentage up by nine points. But, no, it doesn’t feel like being in a Hellion. I can show you, if you’d like.”

Michelle nodded eagerly, a spark in her eyes for the first time. “Yeah. Please.”

Under the table, Matt clenched his fists.
And there she goes with the golden boy. So easy for him.

When Soto had gone and they’d choked down some food, Kyle stood up. “I’m going back to Interface Training. Who’s coming with me?”

“I’ll go.” Michelle said.

Ash shook her head. “I’m goin’ back to my room.”

“I’m working.” Peal poked at his slate.

Michelle and Kyle looked at Matt expectantly. Matt held up his hands in surrender. “I think it’s the Archive for me.”

He watched them leave, thinking,
You’ve just blown it.

Maybe he had. And maybe that would have to be okay.

 

The Strategic Archive was a long, broad room full of privacy screens in the Mecha Corps Administration building two doors down from Cadet Housing. Matt’s access card granted him BASIC LIBRARY RIGHTS, according to the screen.

Matt found it pretty amazing. They had video and transcripts from every major Mecha battle from Pellham’s Front and New Jericho to the present day, together with battle strategies describing how to deploy Mecha for typical situations : a single Mecha with low-power rounds and extra Fireflies to go into a colonial city to take out a single terrorist with no casualties; a two-pronged drop from orbit with fast land assault on a ground space port held by a Corsair force, using Aliancia mortars and tanks; coordinated multidrop assaults with Mecha Flight Packs designed for planetary occupation.

Mecha could fly? Matt didn’t know that. He found a long list of Mecha Augmentations (Hellions), including Flight Packs, High-Speed Ground-Maneuverability Units, Ballistic Deployment and Recovery, High-Dexterity Auxiliary Arms, and much more. Videos showed the Hellions melting and reforming around the packs to form a seamless biomechanical unit.

There were also files clearly marked off-limits to him, such as Merge (Multiple Units) and Merge (Advanced).

Still, Matt was enthralled. Before he knew it, the afternoon was gone, and the artificial sky had shaded to purple twilight. He yawned, grabbed his access card, and headed back to his room.

Matt didn’t feel tired at all, but he lay down on the bed just for a moment. Being horizontal helped quiet the last of his pounding headache.

When he woke, the artificial sky was full night, and the door-screen clock read 22:14. Matt dragged himself out to his balcony and looked out over the city. The adverboards were playing feel-good scenes from a new colony world, with smiling Union officials surveying a bleak, storm-wracked landscape.