Mecha Corps (23 page)

Yve drew in a big breath. “For a long time now. But only very carefully, and in very limited terms. That’s all I know. I wasn’t much more than a grunt when I worked with Dr. Stanford, and I’m on the Mecha side now.”

“Why?”

Yve fell silent. For a long time, it didn’t seem like he’d speak. Then, “The HuMax were monsters, but what they created . . . they were far beyond us. The Union chips at the edges of their accomplishments. So do the Corsairs and the Aliancia and Taikong.”

“So is Mecha tech HuMax?”

“Ha!” Yve barked a quick laugh. “No. Don’t even say that. Dr. Roth is the genius behind BioMecha, and he makes sure everyone knows it.”

Matt slumped back in his seat.

“And, you know, this doesn’t have to be an interrogation session,” Yve added. “It’s good to see you. Put your feet up. Have a drink.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said. “It’s good to see you too. I’ve just been running so fast, I don’t have time for anything.”

Yve nodded. “There’s a ton of pressure on all of us. There are still plenty of colonels who’d send all the Hellions we have to every known Corsair location and try to end it that way.”

“Then why don’t we do that?” Matt asked.

For a moment, a flicker of unease chased across Yve’s face. “Coordination of a massive Hellion effort is difficult. Perhaps impossible. They’re spread out all across the known universe. Plus, our faster-than-light communications are extremely limited.”

“So they’ll bet it all on the Demon?”

“Yes. Theoretically, a Merged fourth-order Demon configuration is unassailable. It’s the strategically correct solution.”

“But you can’t send the Demon everywhere at once,” Matt said.

Yve’s eyes darted away and locked on Matt. His gaze was suddenly cold, calculating. “No. We can’t. But we can use it for a decisive demonstration or three. And we can be ready when—if—the Corsairs who hit Geos strike again.”

So we’re a symbol of what the Union can accomplish; the ultimate weapon,
Matt thought.
And bait.

“Geos was Rayder, wasn’t it?” Matt asked.

Yve clenched his fists, then nodded. “You’ll never hear that through the media, but yes. It was.”

“So you need to hit Rayder.”

“Yeah,” Yve sighed. “But that’s the problem. The location problem. We don’t know where he is. They don’t call him the General in Shadows for nothing.”

“I heard Rayder also took over a colony world.”

Yve jumped and looked hard at Matt. “Where’d you hear that?”

“From Dr. Roth.”

“Ah.” Yve waved a hand. “The frontier is more fluid than the average person knows.”

“But Rayder, he actually took over a Union colony?” Matt pressed.

A nod. “Yes.”

Matt sat silent for a time, letting that sink in. Yve continued. “Rayder is the most pressing issue. The Unicrats don’t want chatter about the Union’s vulnerabilities getting out. Ending Rayder would be a great propaganda win for them.”

Familiar faces floated up to join them at the table: Sergeant Stoll and Ash.

“What’s wrong with you guys, hanging upside down?” Ash asked.

Matt, Yve, and Stoll shared an amused glance, the look of people who’d spent a long time in space. “Everything’s relative,” Sergeant Stoll said.

“I don’t know if I can eat like this,” Ash said, looking down at the Hellions in the dock.

But when the food came, Ash didn’t have any problem tucking it in. Soon she was completely oblivious, happily showing off little holograms of her kids to Yve, who smiled a politician’s smile and nodded in all the right places.

How political is he?
Matt wondered.
What, exactly, does he know?

Any thoughts of what the Demon might become was lost in the tedium of Merge training. First, Soto and Stoll had them all don interface suits and head down to a room full of screens for more tuning. Matt’s suit glowed a brilliant grass green as strange electric sensations passed through his body. The others showed splotches of yellow and red, which stubbornly refused to go away as Sergeant Stoll worked on each of them with a handheld controller.

Finally, she pronounced them as good as they would get. Ash’s suit still showed a large yellow area over her chest, and Michelle and Kyle had yellow veins running through their arms and legs. Soto and Stoll had a brief conversation about “reducing Lowell’s interface efficiency,” then apparently decided against it.

Matt was happy with that. He didn’t want to lose touch with the Mecha. He couldn’t let the others hold him back.

When they were finally done with suit tuning, they had a whole day of Mesh optimization inside the Demons themselves. Matt drifted, bored, as the others tried to get their efficiencies up above seventy percent, while his hovered in the low nineties. He hoped they’d be done with it soon, because the news media was getting shrill about the Corsairs. His Perfect Record played back images from his wall screen that past night:

Interviews of grim-faced survivors on Geos, who looked determinedly at the cameras and vowed to rebuild. A long line of young men and women standing in front of a Union Army recruitment center, many of whom had given up their university careers or stepped out of research labs in order to enlist. Their eyes burned bright with fiery anger.

On the screen spun diagrams of Union forces and Corsair territory, while Congressperson Tomita talked about the “irresistible strategy” the Union would use to wipe them out. Images of the Demon flashed on the screen like icons.

But there was no mention of Rayder. No talk about the colony worlds, hanging so close to the red haze of Corsair territory. No far-off blip showing the location of Mecha Base. The news was less than a thumbnail sketch of what was really going on, more theater than reality.

But that’s what it has to be,
Matt thought.
The Union must have the force to take on the Corsairs.

 

Finally, they moved to Merge training just outside Mecha Base. From Dr. Roth’s private Demon dock, the four giant Mecha debarked into the shadow of the giant armor shield, staying out of sight below the main Displacement Drive ship dock.

Even then, space-suited dust motes jetted over the horizon to stare at the Mecha as they worked. In sensory-enhancement mode, Matt saw their tags: some were simple Union Army staff, some Mecha Auxiliary, and some Mecha Corps. Even Colonel Cruz appeared to gaze at them once, briefly. The public comms reverberated with speculation about who the Demon pilots could be. Some of them even guessed that it might be the new cadets, but it was quickly dismissed.

Matt frowned. The hallways of Mecha Base would be less secure from now on.

Matt waited impatiently, edgy on Mesh, as Sergeant Stoll ran through the last systems checks. The maelstrom beneath him beckoned; he wanted to dive deep down into it and carom off the bouncing asteroids, like they’d done the other day. He wanted Michelle to follow him. He wanted to embrace her—

Finally, Stoll’s voice barked out of the comms. “We’re beginning first partial Merge drill. Please follow instructions from Dr. Roth carefully.”

Dr. Roth’s comms icon flared. “Candidates, note the ‘partial’ and ‘drill’ aspects of this exercise. After further assessment, we have decided to approach Merge in stages to avoid potential imbalance between the components. Due to this, you will descend only to Stage Blue as indicated on your overlay. The intent is to familiarize you with the Merge experience.”

Come on, let’s get started
, Matt thought. His Demon’s hands twitched impatiently.

“Begin by forming a circle with your Mecha and taking your partner in hand,” Dr. Roth said.

Matt reached out to take Michelle’s hand. Michelle’s talons meshed with his. Something like a mild electric buzz passed through him. Ash reached toward him. He took her hand. Kyle completed the circle. The buzz grew in volume and resolved into something like voices.

No. Not quite voices. Thoughts. Muttering and brittle, like wind-blown leaves.

Kyle was tired. Even fresh in the cockpit, his breath came fast and ragged. He was scared because the Demon was such work for him.

Michelle’s thoughts were of Matt, how he helped Kyle last time. Distance echoed inside her, distance from Earth, distance from her estranged family.

Ash’s thoughts bounced like marbles in a can, sharp and loud. Images of her husband and her sons flashed by like pictures in an album, overlaid with a sense of panic.

Come on,
Matt thought.
This is easy. This is what happens in Merge.

Everything’s so easy for you.
Michelle’s thoughts came, fast and warm.
You’re the natural. Superman
.

Matt looked down and saw that his Demon’s hand and Michelle’s flowed together like two droplets of mercury Sparks of optical fibers shimmered and sparkled on the edge of the Merge.

Sudden surprise from Michelle collided with anger from Kyle. But Kyle’s anger was muted, diffuse. He was irritated about the Superman comment, but he was more mad at himself for failing to be the best, failing to live up to his family’s expectation.

Matt blushed. If he could tell what Kyle was feeling, everyone could probably see right through him. If they wanted, they’d know everything. His father. His Perfect Record. His real reason for joining the Mecha Corps.

I accept you,
Michelle thought.

Yes, you’re all right,
Ash thought.

Kyle’s thought didn’t resolve completely, but Matt heard something like:
I can’t hate you so much now.

Matt’s arm Merged up to the forearm.

“Good. Merge stable. Stage Blue achieved,” Sergeant Stoll’s voice came through the comms, distant and jarring.

Their minds opened like windows. Suddenly, everything was laid bare. There was something they were heading for. Some distant unity where everything would be all right.

The unity flickered. Waves of fatigue passed over Matt. They’d never reach it. It was too far away. Every step felt like he weighed a thousand pounds.

What’s wrong?
Michelle thought. Her fear reverberated through Matt’s mind.

I don’t know,
Matt thought, straining forward.

It has to be all of us,
Michelle thought.
Kyle’s tired.

Then get him moving!
Matt thought over a sudden spike of anger. He pulled forward as hard as he could. Pain flared sharply in his arm. In his POV, the cool blue stage indicator flashed orange-red.

“Unbalanced Merge,” Stoll said. “Abort exercise.”

“No!” Matt said. “I can do this!” He thrust forward again as hard as he could. Agony cascaded through his arm and into his chest. Michelle and Ash yelled with the pain.

Stop it! You can’t do it by yourself!
Michelle called in his mind.

Help me,
Matt told her.

“Abort exercise now, cadets! Acknowledge orders!” Stoll’s voice was harsh.

Acid thoughts swirled in Matt’s mind. He could do it! If they didn’t hold him back! Just a little more! He almost didn’t see the stage indicator, now mottled black and red.

Please stop,
Michelle said through waves of pain.

Yeah, please,
Ash added.

I can’t. Please, no more,
Kyle thought.

Through one final, brilliant flash of rage, Matt groaned.
So close! So little to go!

But they’re right,
a little voice told him.
Stop. Stop now.

Matt sighed. That was right. He should know that. You didn’t leave your teammates behind.

His arm peeled away from Michelle’s Mecha, becoming separate once again.

“Exercise terminated. Return to dock,” Stoll’s voice barked.

 

Three more days; twenty more attempts at partial Merge. Every time, they got a little better at maintaining their balance.

Stoll added their Mesh effectiveness readouts to their screens, so they could see how they were doing in real time. Matt’s bounced from the high 80s to mid-90s. Everyone else’s was spiky. Michelle was most consistent, usually in the low 80s. Kyle would jump from the 70s to the low 90s. Ash’s numbers went from high 60s to mid-80s.

Every evening after their exercises, Soto would get into one of the Demons and try his own hand at it. Matt watched one of the sessions, where Soto’s Mesh effectiveness hovered at 38 percent. Sergeant Stoll stood in the hangar, frowning down at the numbers on her slate.

“Is that bad?” Matt asked.

“Twelve points below activation threshold,” Sergeant Stoll said, not looking up.

Peal and Jahl entered the hangar.

“Is the major trying to kill himself again?” Peal asked.

“He’s getting better,” Stoll told him. “Stable Mesh, but below activation threshold.”

Jahl leaned over the slate to peer at Major Soto’s cockpit image. “Come on, Major! You know how many Mecha pilots had great careers with effectiveness in the low fifties?”

“Trying,” Soto said. “It’s just . . . intense.”

Is Soto scared?
Matt wondered.
What can I do to help?
He thought of Yve, so easy to talk to. What would he ask?

“Where are you from, Major?” Matt asked.

A long breath. “Nuevo Leon.”

“You’re Aliancia?”

“Not really,” the Major said, his voice firming. “My parents joined the Union when I was four. I grew up on battleships.
Prometheus
, mainly.”

“Because of the Corsairs?”

“No.” After a pause, Soto continued: “There are a lot of people in the Aliancia that don’t fit well with their charter of ‘nonviolence, by individuals or groups.’ ”