Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (2 page)

“Fuck,” Styles muttered as he lay back down, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll…take…your…word….” In a second he was fast asleep.

Dr. Maszle turned to the techs, her face all business; any trace of excitement gone the moment Styles slipped back into unconsciousness. “I want him monitored at all times. He is never to be left unattended. Understand?”

They nodded and wheeled him from the room. She waited until they were gone and then took a deep breath, leaned against the wall and slid slowly to the floor, letting the breath out as she went down. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly as she crossed herself. “I know this may be an abomination in your eyes, but it is not meant to be. Please understand that.”

She reached inside her shirt and pulled out a medal of St. Luke. She kissed it twice then let it fall back to her chest. A single tear slipped from her left eye and she brushed it away as she got to her feet.

“I need a status report on an ETA of the first viable batch now!” she barked into her com as she hurried from the exam room. “We have a success and I want us ready for full production when the time comes! The Prince’s last orders were to have his air force ready to assist those in need! NOW!”

She thought back on the final encrypted message she had received from the late Russian Prince Alexander Tartarov. His original plan was to be able to sell the clones of Styles along with the illicit, and banned, aircraft that he had designed and had her Brazilian tech company put into production.

His last words had been: “The Three have taken Europe and Asia. The New World is all that is left. Don’t let it fall. Tell Styles I’m sorry for what I’ve done to him, but he needs to know that he may be all that can save what’s left of freedom and the human race from the Three’s forces. Godspeed, Doctor.”

The tracking beacon in the Prince’s aircraft, which was annoyingly called the BTT (Better Than Tits), went dead just seconds after the message had been received.

Two

The dogs whined as the mech rolled up in front of Outpost Tango Charlie, its tracks kicking up a ten foot high wake of snow behind it, but none barked or growled. They had become quite used to the machine coming and going at all hours of the day and night. As the twenty foot tall machine stopped, the tracks on its feet retracted into its massive legs, leaving feet with articulated toes, spread wide over the soft snow.

“How’s it feel today?” Outpost Commander Stephen LaFrance asked over the com as he stepped from the main entrance into the sub-zero weather. The wind whipped at his thermal suit and he instantly cranked the internal temperature up about five degrees. “More responsive?”

“Yes. Quite,” a voice responded over the com. “The transition from track to feet is seamless now. However, I am still a little unsure about this solid state technology.”

“Biochrome,” LaFrance stated. “I know, for an AI that is used to monitoring a thousand different parts and components, having it all integrated will take some getting used to.”

“Biochrome,” the voice mused. “Bioorganic metal fused with human DNA. Able to be manufactured into any product without the need for separate parts. True solid state technology that has been considered a living metal. With full integration biochrome can be morphed into any new shape of the same mass by genetically manipulated humans known as Ghosts. Part of the American forces that had been tasked as the world’s marshals and protectors.”

“Until they got their asses blown away,” LaFrance said. “Not many left. Could be fewer still if the Council doesn’t act.”

The mech’s cockpit opened and a sleek, metal figure leapt down into the snow. The dogs growled slightly, but settled down quickly once they caught the figure’s scent.

“Still haven’t found a face?” LaFrance asked as he looked at the smooth metal of the figure’s features. “Come on, Shiner. The guys want to see what face you come up with.”

“A face is not needed,” Shiner responded as he approached LaFrance. “That is a human concept.”

“So is a name,” LaFrance joked. “And you gave yourself one of those.”

“You must be cold,” Shiner stated. “You will expire from exposure to these elements.”

“That’s nice of you to think of that,” LaFrance smiled. “Then how about we get inside and Norton can download your data. Let’s have a look at how you and your mech are working.”

“Of course, Commander,” Shiner said. “I shall follow.”

***

“This is insane,” Lead Tech Officer Malachi Norton said as he studied his vid screen, Shiner looking over his shoulder uncomfortably close. “The integration rate is not even calculable. This outstrips any of the data Themopolous sent us about the human mech pilots. Even with their Reaper chip to AI integration, this is still quantum levels above that.”

“So it’s fast?” Security Chief Andrew Morris smirked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s really fast,” Norton replied, missing the sarcasm completely. “But I couldn’t even put a speed on it. It’s like Shiner becomes one with the mech itself.”

“I was a mech,” Shiner stated. “Before I came to the snow and was uploaded into the bioorganic metal that is called biochrome. I was a mech of the wasteland. I have always been machine. There is no separation.”

“Don’t you need to power down somewhere or something?” Morris asked. “Save that super computer brain of yours for tomorrow’s tests?”

Shiner turned his head towards Morris, his body staying perfectly still. The effect gave Morris the shivers and he had to look away since all he saw was his own face distorted in the reflection off of Shiner’s shiny, blank faceplate.

“Shouldn’t you secure the outpost, Security Chief?” Shiner asked, his voice dropping half an octave.

Morris took a couple of steps back and moved towards the door. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” he said as he left the room. “Metal freak.”

“Is it wrong that I enjoy upsetting Security Chief Morris?” Shiner asked.

“You enjoy it?” Norton inquired, spinning in his chair. His face was only inches from Shiner’s and he put a hand against the bioborg’s chest. “Whoa, man. Scoot it back, will ya?”

“My apologies,” Shiner said as he straightened and stepped back, giving Norton some room. “Is that better, Malachi?”

“Much,” Norton smiled. “Now what’s this about you enjoying it? Explain.”

“Would you like me to jack into the system so you can study the data of it?”

“No, actually, I’d rather you tell me,” Norton said. “This is new territory, man. I want to hear it in your own words.”

“Why will that matter?”

“Because an AI with emotions is fascinating,” Norton said. “As far as I know you’re the only one.”

“That would not be correct,” Shiner said, shaking his head. “There is Stomper. And many of the dead mechs in the wasteland and the Womb. They can think and feel. They all have AI emotions.”

“Well, I can’t talk to your buddy Stomper,” Norton responded. “Wait…the Womb?” Shiner didn’t respond and Norton knew from experience not to push. “Okay, whatever. I’m not going anywhere below the containment shield and into that hellish wasteland to talk to any of those mechs, so you’re all I got.”

“All I have,” Shiner corrected.

“Don’t start, man,” Norton smiled. “I don’t need you correcting my grammar.”

“Proper speech is important to clear, concise communication.”

“True, but I think we communicate just fine.”

“Because I use clear, concise speech.”

Norton stared at Shiner for a couple of seconds. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Yes.”

“Good one,” Norton laughed. “You’re learning.”

“I enjoy fucking with you,” Shiner said as he attempted a tinny laugh.

“Yeah, let’s not say that too much around the outpost, okay? That could be taken the wrong way.”

“Of course, that is why clear, concise speech is important,” Shiner nodded. “It could also mean I am having sexual intercourse with you.” He paused briefly and waited as Norton took a sip from a water bottle near his workstation. “In your butt.”

Norton spewed water everywhere, most of it coming out of his nose. “You asshole!” he grinned at Shiner. “You’re worse than Morris!”

“Morris has sexual intercourse in your butt?” Shiner asked.

“Knock it off!”

***

LaFrance sat staring up at the gray ceiling of Outpost Tango Charlie’s meeting room, waiting for the answer.

“But you haven’t told me if we can trust him,” LaFrance said, finally looking back at the personnel, seated about table.

Morris and Norton were there, so was Special Teams Leader Gregory Knobel, LaFrance’s second in command, and Cassidy Campbell, outpost engineer and dog handler. Morris enjoyed calling her the “Mutt Slut”, but never to her face. Ever.

“How do you know if you can trust anyone?” Norton asked rhetorically. “I expect Morris to snap at any second and kill us all in our sleep. I’ve even mentioned it to you, OC. But, yet, he’s still here.”

“I’d never do it in your sleep,” Morris said as he shook his head. “The rooms are too spread out. I’d wait until we were all in one spot together. Get you idiots in one blow. Less work.”

“Dogs don’t mind him,” Campbell said. She looked at everyone, bored. “I trust the dogs.”

“That’s all you trust,” Morris said. “Your precious dogs.”

“They don’t like you,” Campbell grinned. “So they haven’t let me down yet.”

“Can we get back to the issue of Shiner?” LaFrance asked, tired of the bickering. “Is he stable?”

All eyes fell on Norton.

“Short answer: yes,” Norton responded. “He’s stable and I do trust him. Long answer? We can’t ever really know if we can ever trust anyone. I’m just glad he’s on our side.”

LaFrance nodded, accepting the answer. “Good, good. Then let’s move onto the Americans.”

“The ones in the boats or the ones in the wasteland?” Knobel asked. “The wasteland ones are being monitored at all times. I know nothing about the ones in the boats.”

“I’ve got that covered,” LaFrance said. “I’ve spoken to their commanding officer Blue Masterson and their ETA for hitting the west coast is one week.”

“Not a lot of time,” Morris said. “Will the shield be down by then?”

“No,” LaFrance said. “And we can’t get it down from here.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Knobel asked. He turned to Norton. “You can’t flip a switch?”

“It’s specifically designed to not be switchable,” Norton replied. “It takes a coordinated effort from the shield station in what used to be Monterey. Although the shield station hasn’t been checked in forever. Who knows what it will take to get the shield down.”

“That means we have to send someone down to coordinate with Capreze and his crew,” LaFrance said.

“You want us to head into the wasteland?” Knobel asked. “That’s a lot of Hell between here and there. What the hell do we tell them?”

“I’m going to work that out with Masterson,” LaFrance replied. “We have to keep Capreze informed, but we don’t know how much we can trust him. He and his crew have been under the impression that they are all that’s left between the human race and a few hundred thousand of the undead. If he knows how much they have been deceived for centuries he may not react well. I wouldn’t. He’s a Mech Base Commander and used to going to war as a first response. This will need to be handled delicately.”

“What does Control have to say?” Morris asked. “Surely they should be the ones handling this.”

“Control handles politics,” LaFrance laughed. “They don’t handle logistics. We get the grunt work while they negotiate with Masterson about how this will all shape out when we come out on top.”

“If we come out on top,” Campbell said. “The League of Monarchies’ forces have us all outnumbered by ten to one if the sat scans are correct.”

“They are,” Norton corroborated.

“But we aren’t dealing with the LOM anymore,” LaFrance said. “It is now the Three that run things.”

“Three what?” Morris asked.

“We aren’t sure,” LaFrance replied. “Control says they have lost all contact with them. The Three must have assumed we’d side with the Americans.”

“Strategically it would have made more sense for them to ally with us,” Knobel said. “We could swoop down and take the UDC Stronghold by surprise and then work our way out into the wasteland, neutralizing the remaining pockets of survivors.”

“It would not be so easy,” Shiner said from the doorway. “The mech pilots are not to be underestimated.”

“There’s only a handful of them,” Campbell said. “Thousands of us.”

“Please join us, Shiner,” LaFrance offered. “I’d like to hear your take on this.”

Shiner walked in and took a seat. The chair groaned under his weight and he shifted his BC mass to allow for better distribution.

“The mech pilots are a team that is beyond military thinking,” Shiner explained. “They are trained for combat, but they are…a family.”

“So?” Morris scoffed. “That’s more a weakness. It’ll distract them.”

“No, you are wrong,” Shiner said, shaking his biochrome head. “It is their motivation. One goes down and they all fight harder, faster, smarter. You would be wrong to think otherwise. They do not mourn and hurt like others. Only after they have won do they let themselves feel.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to be fighting with them and not against,” LaFrance said. “Anything else?”

“Yes, sir,” Shiner said. “I should be the one to go to Monterey and deactivate the shield. I know the wasteland. I know the deaders.”

“And he knows the dead mechs,” Norton said. “You all have seen the footage.” He looked at Knobel. “You’ve even seen them up close on mission. There’s a reason Capreze’s people are nuts. They have to fight those 50 ton monsters.”

Three

“ON YOUR MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT GODDAMMIT!” Bisby shouted at Masters as they maneuvered the transport down into the valley, trying to flank the dead mech One Arm while Mech Pilot Harlow and her oversized mech, Stomper, took the machine head on. “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FUCKING DRIVE?!”

“Stop fucking yelling at me, Biz!” Masters shouted back. “You want to drive? Oh, right, you can’t because you have one fucking arm!”