Dead Mech (25 page)

“You know what?” Masters continued. “You
guys don’t worry about this. I can handle a single transport in my
sleep.” Three more transports crested the hill right on the heels
of the first one. “Or four. Still no worries.”

Warnings blared and Masters watched as all
four transports targeted missiles on his mech.

***

The Rookie, sweat dripping down his face,
gritted his teeth as Jay cauterized the bullet wound.

“At least you stopped screaming like a baby
girl,” Jay said as he finished.

“Fuck…you…Rind,” the Rookie croaked.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you, you
little cage fighting freak!”

Despite his pain the Rookie laughed, wishing
immediately he hadn’t, as his chest shook, creating fresh waves of
pain.

“Ow…”

“You act like you ain’t ever been shot
before,” Jay said cleaning up the bloody mess that was the salvage
mech’s cockpit.

“I haven’t.”

“Really? I’ve been shot seven times.
Deserved every bullet.”

***

Deacon Montoya listened to his com intently.
“Roger that. I’ll alert the Bishop immediately.”

Bishop Wyble removed the cloth from his face
and sighed. “What is it, Deacon?”

“Two mechs escaped Foggy Bottom, Your Grace.
However, UDC transports were dispatched and they have tracked and
found the mechs. They are engaging as we speak, Your Eminence.”

“That is wonderful news, Montoya! Please
keep me posted as to the outcome of the battle! I am sure God will
shine down on our new UDC brethren and make them victorious against
the heathen machines!” Bishop Wyble bellowed.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Montoya responded.

***

Masters switched on his external
loudspeakers. “Attention approaching UDC transports. I will give
you one chance to turn your little pussy asses around and go home.
I don’t know if you are all dead, undead, living, but slightly
spoiled or what-the-fuck-ever! But, I’m sure none of you want my
mech fist shoved up your fuckholes!”

The transports responded by firing their
missiles. Masters grinned from ear to ear then broke into a full
run towards the transports.

“Really? Puny little missiles? Against a
mech? What fucking field manual are you guys smoking?”

The missiles and mech sped towards each
other.

***

“Here, sip this,” Jay said, handing the
Rookie a flask. “It’ll take the edge off.”

The Rookie gladly took the offered flask and
quickly downed the contents handing back the empty flask to Jay.
“Thanks.”

Jay stared at the empty flask then back to
the Rookie. “I said ‘sip’, asshole.”

“Oh, sorry,” the Rookie apologized. “That
wasn’t the last was it?”

“It was in the cockpit. I’ll have to climb
out and down to get more out of storage.”

“That would be great,” the Rookie said
lazily as the warmth of the shine spread through his body, numbing
the pain.

***

Without breaking stride, Masters sprang into
the air, twisting his mech about, letting the missiles fly past
him. He came down on his massive fists, palms flat and immediately
piloted his mech into a backwards handspring, landing just yards
from the first UDC transport.

“Howdy! I see you want to play!” Masters
laughed reaching down and picking the first transport off the
ground. “Lift with your legs! That’s how we stay healthy in the
workplace!”

He swung the transport about and back the
way he came, directly into the missiles that had changed course and
were heading right for him.

***

The explosion sent pieces of transport and
troops flying across the wasteland. The salvage mech shuddered,
nearly knocking Jay loose as he descended to the storage
compartment for more shine.

“Fucking show off!” Jay yelled into his
com.

“Jealous much?!?” Masters yelled back.

Jay reached the compartment, lifted the
hatch and gasped. “Holy fucking shit!”

“What?” the Rookie asked over the com. “You
okay?”

“You won’t believe this! But, Legit actually
made good on his promise! Every part I asked for is loaded in
here!” Jay searched a bit more. “But the fuckers took the
shine!”

“Bastards!” the Rookie yelled.

***

The giant fist slammed down and through the
closest UDC transport, crushing everything inside. Masters lifted
the transport and shook it off, sending it flying 300 yards before
it smashed to the ground, sending fiery shrapnel across the
wasteland.

“Wooo-fucking-hoooo!” Masters crowed. “I am
loving the smashy-smashy! I haven’t fucked shit up with my mech in
a while! Feels fucking good!”

Cannon fire brought Masters’ attention back
to the remaining transports. He dodged to the left, letting the
artillery shells wiz past him.

“Really? That’s all you got! Leave it to UDC
fuckheads to bring transports to a mech fight!”

***

Jay climbed back into the cockpit. “Hey,
you’re missing the show,” he said, carefully helping the Rookie sit
upright so he could see the action. “You should watch this, you’ll
learn a thing or two about how to pilot a mech.”

The Rookie stared in amazement at the
deftness with which Masters maneuvered his mech.

“Jeezus! It’s like the transports are just
toys to him. Even his mech moves with that cocky swagger,” the
Rookie exclaimed.

“As it should,” Jay said. “A mech is not
separate from its pilot, but an extension.”

The Rookie stared in awe as Masters
worked.

***

“Hey, Rookie? You think that’s impressive?
Watch this!” Masters called over the com. He swatted away two RPGs
and lifted his foot over the closest mech. Without hesitation, he
stomped down, his mech foot swallowed by the transport. He did the
same to the second and last transport before it could get another
shot off.

Masters shifted his mech’s weight, securing
the transports tightly.

“I gotta dance!” Masters said in a sing-song
voice.

And then, he danced.

“That’s fucked up…” the Rookie said, his
eyes widening as he watched 50 tons of war machine break into a
soft shoe routine.

***

“Ain’t I pretty? Who’s a pretty dancing
mech?” Masters piloted his mech in a graceful pirouette. And
stopped, his mech hands splayed and shaking. “Jazz hands,
bitches!”

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me?” the Rookie
said over the com.

“Harlow loves musicals. We’ve seen
everything Jay has on vid. You should see the routine we put
together,” Masters laughed, aiming his right 50mm at the
transports. He fired off the gun, slicing the fronts of the
transports off then shook them from his mech’s feet. “You see, kid,
if you can dance in a mech, you can fight in a mech.”

***

“Um, Your Grace?” Deacon Montoya asked.
“We’ve lost all four transport signals. It appears the mechs may
have destroyed them.”

“That is unfortunate, Deacon,” Bishop Wyble
said. He stared out the windshield as the mech base came into
sight. “Oh, well. Hopefully the waste storm will take care of them
for us. It’s in God’s hands now, Montoya.”

“Of course, sir,” Montoya responded. He
checked his scanners. “It appears the mech base is empty, Your
Eminence. I have zero life signs on my scanners. Power is up and
communications are online. Shall I alert the others?”

“Yes, Deacon, please do.”

***

“Well, I hate to skip the encore, boys, but
we have a waste storm to outrun,” Masters said over the com.

Jay secured the Rookie’s straps then
strapped himself in and powered up his mech. “Well, from these
readings it doesn’t look like we are going to outrun it, but we
can’t stay here. This bluff isn’t near enough cover.”

“Where are we?’ the Rookie asked.

“The middle of Bumfuck,” Jay responded. He
transferred data to his tablet and held it up so the Rookie could
see.

“I know exactly where we are,” the Rookie
responded, eyeing the tablet’s screen.

***

“Okay, I got the heading,” Masters said.
“The sooner we get there the more time we’ll have to get secured.
You sure there’s enough room for both mechs, kid?”

“Yeah,” the Rookie answered over the com.
“Plenty of room. I’ve had to hole up there before.”

“Really? You know, you said you’d tell us
who the fuck you are if we got out of Foggy Bottom.”

“Yes, I know,” the Rookie winced. “But, how
about we worry about the waste storm first?”

“I swear, Rookie, if you or I die before I
know your story, I’m gonna be fucking pissed.”

***

“We have entered the mech base’s staging
area, Your Grace,” Montoya informed the Bishop.

Bishop Wyble glanced from the windshield to
the vid screens and back out the windshield. “And how can you tell
the difference, Deacon Montoya?” the Bishop asked. “It looks the
same as all the rest of the wasteland.”

The Deacon pointed at his screen. “Those
dots, Your Eminence. They are part of some type of warning system,
but I’m unfamiliar with the tech. Must be custom.”

“Custom tech, you say? Well, it appears the
mech personnel haven’t been fully open with the UDC,” Bishop Wyble
chuckled.

***

The UDC and Rancher transports stopped in
front of the mech base hangar, the tail end of the waste storm
still blowing strongly.

“Well, Deacon Montoya, what are we waiting
for?” the Bishop asked impatiently. “Ring the bell.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Montoya responded
activating his com. “Tech crew go.”

A three man team dashed from a transport to
the hangar doors. One man opened a small panel and began to hack
the locking mechanism. Almost instantly the man was electrocuted,
his body dancing and smoking as 100,000 volts fried him.

Bishop Wyble sighed. “I guess we will have
to knock.

***

The lead Rancher transport, Bishop Wyble’s,
targeted its missile launcher on the mech base’s hangar bay
doors.

“Now, Deacon, just a light knock. No need to
break the door down,” the Bishop ordered.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Deacon Montoya responded.
“First missile away.”

They watched as the missile shot from the
transport and impacted upon the door. Montoya checked his sensors
since the smoke was still too thick for a visual. “Barely any
damage, You Grace.”

“Hmmm… Well, then, kick it in! The
Archbishop will be disappointed, but I’m sure its nothing we
couldn’t fix later.”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Montoya agreed.

***

“Holy shit!” Jethro yelled staring at his
scanner. “Looks like the transports arrived!”

“Give me a visual,” Capreze commanded as he
piloted the transport. Jethro tapped at his tablet and the image he
was looking at was superimposed upon the windshield in front of
Capreze. “Okay, what am I looking at?”

“Well, you are looking at what used to be
our hangar bay doors,” Jethro responded. “I guess they gave up on
the subtle approach. Probably after they found my little
surprise.”

“Surprise?” Themopolous asked, glancing
nervously out the windshield into the wasteland.

“100,000 volts of hot death,” Jethro
laughed.

***

The three mechs stomped along, escorting the
transport through the wasteland. Harlow to the left, Rachel to the
right and Bisby bringing up the rear.

“How deep in do you think we’re going?”
Harlow asked over her com.

“Not a clue,” Rachel responded, stretching
in her cockpit. “Biz? You got any ideas?”

“Yes,” Bisby said. “And none of them are
good.”

“Care to share with the rest of us?” Harlow
asked.

“I’d hate to give you girls nightmares,”
Bisby joked. Harlow stopped her mech and took a swing at Bisby’s.
He easily ducked out of the way. “Hey! Watch it!”

***

“Pilot Harlow, any reason you are out of
formation?” the Commander asked.

“Just swatting at flies, sir,” Harlow
responded over the com.

“Well, I applaud your dedication to pest
control, but your mech is better suited on my left flank.”

“Understood, sir.”

Capreze shook his head. “So, Jethro, you are
positive the Ranchers nor the UDC will pick up on our
surveillance?”

“98.7% sure, sir,” Jethro responded. “If Jay
were here we’d have the other 1.3% covered, but I’m not quite up to
speed right now.”

“Fair enough. Let me know when they are
fully inside the base.”

“Will do.”

***

Bishop Wyble stepped from his transport and
began barking orders. “No, you fools! Clear it THAT way! Imbeciles,
that top piece is…wonderful, just wonderful! Now see what you’ve
done?!? MONTOYA!”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the Deacon answered,
directly behind the Bishop.

“Those two,” Bishop Wyble said, pointing to
two Ranchers scurrying away from the hangar debris as their lack of
attention caused a sudden collapse of pieces of door still attached
to the base. “Make an example, please.”

Without a word, Montoya drew his sidearm and
approached the two men, firing point blank, splattering their
brains against the base wall.

***

Themoplous leaned in close to Capreze. “Sir,
I am worried about Jethro. He’s had three nose bleeds since we
left. I need to run more tests, but…” She looked about the
transport in dismay. “The facilities are lacking.”

Capreze furrowed his brow. “Do what you can,
Doc. We aren’t stopping any time soon.”

“But, sir…”

“No ‘buts’. We’re looking at the destruction
of civilization. Again. Possibly humanity. Are you saying one life
is more important?”

“You know,” Jethro spoke up. “You guys have
a really bad habit of talking about me like I can’t hear you. Knock
it off, please.”

***

“Sir?” Harlow called over the com. “What’s
the plan for a recharge?”

“After sundown, Pilot,” Capreze responded.
“We need to put more distance between us and the base. I have no
idea what their endgame is, but should it be pursuit we’ll need a
better head start.”