Mecha Corps (28 page)

Matt brought up a leg and kicked Kyle as hard as he could. He might have felt like his life was over, but he wasn’t ready to be killed. Least of all by Kyle.

Kyle flew away. His head hit the steel bulkhead with a loud boom.

The force of his kick pushed Matt down on the bed, which now sprang up and launched him toward Kyle. Kyle grabbed for a rail, found one, and turned to wield the scalpel again.

Shit.
Matt whirled his arms to bring his legs around. The flashing scalpel buried itself in the sole of his shoe, nicking his foot. Matt felt warm blood spread.

Matt brought around his other foot into Kyle’s face. Kyle yelled in pain and slashed with the scalpel again. Pain and warmth spread on Matt’s leg. Matt flailed away. He needed a weapon. Now.

“Don’t run away!” Kyle screeched.

Kyle launched himself at Matt again. Long shadows cast from the screen light put Matt in the pitch-dark. Matt found the door. Pulled. It opened.

Kyle hit the edge of the door with his head. Howling in pain, he slashed blindly with the scalpel as blood poured from a gash on his forehead.

Matt slipped out into the hallway, blinking in the bright light. He pushed off, hard, down the hall. Kyle came after him. Matt trailed globules of blood as he flew down the corridor. He stayed close to the railing so he could pull himself along. Each time he moved up, he left behind a bloody handprint on the dull metal. His slashed hand had started to throb.

Where can I go?
Matt shot into the Decompression Lounge. There was nobody in the room, and the bartender was asleep, floating in midair.

“Hey!” Matt called. The bartender’s head snapped up. His eyes widened as he saw Matt’s bloody state.

Kyle shot into the room. With great, dumb luck, he just happened to be on a collision course with Matt. His crazy eyes were focused on only a single thing. He held the scalpel out in front of him, ready to kill.

Matt stopped himself against the far wall. He crouched down, getting ready.

“Got you!”

When Kyle was a meter away from him, Matt pushed off as hard as he could. Kyle’s eyes tracked him. He didn’t notice the steel bulkhead.

Kyle hit the wall full force, making it ring like a bell. He bounced off, his eyes dazed, the scalpel drifting from his open hand.

Matt grabbed a handrail and reversed course toward Kyle. He kicked the scalpel out of the way.

Kyle blinked, then caught hold of Matt’s ankle. His grip was amazingly strong. Matt kicked at him, but the man climbed up his leg until he reached the slash wound on Matt’s thigh. Kyle dug a thumb deep into Matt’s muscle.

Matt screamed and tried to break free. Kyle grinned up at him like a lamprey. He pushed his thumb in harder.

“Your fault . . . your fault . . . your fault,” he chanted.

The pain was intense, unbearable. Matt felt the room receding away. This was how it was going to end. Killed by a teammate because he didn’t work well with others.

Mecha Auxiliaries barreled into Matt and Kyle out of nowhere. Two grabbed Kyle, while another used a towline to bring him back to the wall. One of them gave Kyle an injection. Kyle slumped, slack.

“How . . . what . . .” Matt said. The room was fading again. There was no pain. Everything seemed distant, faraway. He saw dark bubbles of blood floating in the air.

He saw that the Auxiliaries had two stretchers.

It wasn’t until later that he realized one was for him.

Matt flexed his hand, staring at the smooth pink scar that was the only trace of his late-night encounter with Kyle. Accelerated Recovery had mended his wound in just a few hours, as he lay in a happy state that felt just a little like Mesh.

“Are you going to Kyle’s send-off?” Michelle asked.

Matt snapped back to reality. He was standing outside his tiny room in a long residential corridor. Michelle had come up to him, without Matt noticing at all.

Kyle’s send-off. Major Soto had offered Kyle a new assignment as a Mecha Corps Hellion pilot, on a recon mission to the edge colonies. An easy job. A milk run. Matt saw the derision in Major Soto’s eyes, even as the older man struggled to make it seem like the best thing in the world.

And maybe it was for Kyle. Maybe that’s what he needed. Time to heal.

“I don’t know,” Matt said.

“He’s not going to try to kill you again.”

“It’s not that.”

“And he doesn’t really hate you. Or blame you. That was whatever the Demon had been doing to him since he got here. Join us.”

Matt shook his head. What would he do? Where was his offer? Soto had suggested waiting for the second round of Demons, after the new pilots Displaced in next week. But that was chancy. Would Roth even let him have another chance?

“Come on. It’s starting soon,” Michelle encouraged.

Matt and Michelle floated down the corridors in silence. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything. It was almost a relief when they reached the Hellion docks. They went through the open hatch and into the vast space. There, six men stood on a low stage in front of six gleaming Hellions. In front of the stage were rows of chairs.

Strong hands grabbed Matt and swung him around. Matt flailed and turned. It was Major Soto. His foot was casually hooked into the dock railing, and he grinned at Matt. Beside him hung Peal and Jahl, their expressions unreadable.

“Just making sure you’re not still looking for payback,” Major Soto said.

“He’s not,” Michelle said, coming up behind him. “I made sure of it.”

Soto studied Matt. “No. You’re okay. Sit down, have fun, enjoy the pony show.”

“You don’t think Kyle should go?” Michelle asked.

Soto shrugged. “I just deliver the offers. He accepted.” He looked over toward the stage, where Kyle stood in full dark-blue Mecha Corps uniform. The two silver bars of his captain’s insignia glittered on the dark gray fabric. His chest was free of other ornamentation. At a glance, he was the recruiting poster come to life.

Until you gave him a closer look. Under the uniform his body seemed hunched from fatigue, and the skin around his eyes was sunken as if after a long sickness. Worst of all was the expression in his eyes. No spark burned there. No joy. Kyle was a robot, hollowed out and empty.

“It’s best for him,” Major Soto said finally. “He does a good job, gets out, goes back to Eridani, does the Senator thing. This is just a checkmark on a long list of stuff he has to do. Just hope he has his shit together enough to do this one mission right.”

Soto then turned back to address Michelle and Matt. “Too bad we couldn’t keep you together,” Soto said. “I would’ve gladly been your fourth.”

They took seats up front. Michelle waved at Kyle, and he came to the edge of the stage to say hello. He turned first to Matt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, offering Matt his hand.

Matt took Kyle’s hand and gripped it hard. What could he say?
It wasn’t your fault? Apology accepted?
Nothing seemed right.

“Come back soon,” Matt said finally. “It’d be good to be a team again.”

“You bet,” Kyle said. But his eyes darted away.

A few more people drifted in, unfamiliar Corps and Auxiliaries.
Most likely friends of the other Hellion pilots,
Matt thought.

After a short time, Colonel Cruz came out and lined the men up, each under their towering Hellions. He praised each Hellion pilot in turn, highlighting their accomplishments during their training. He even said a few words about how Kyle had put his Demonrider candidacy on hold to lead new Mecha Corps members in a show of force on important Union worlds.

“Picking up the laundry,” Jahl whispered.

“Shut up,” Major Soto hissed.

Michelle watched the ceremony intently, her eyes fixed on Kyle. She bit her lip, as if seeing Kyle’s fear and uncertainty. But she also made furtive glances at Matt. He saw her looking out of the corner of his eye.

He wanted to let her know he’d help her get through whatever came next. She was staying strong, and he admired that. He’d make sure both of them made it to the next level, whatever it might be.

When the ceremony was over, the six pilots got in their Hellions and were towed out to the waiting Displacement Drive battleship, UUS
Atlas
.

Michelle watched them go. She blew out a big breath, as if in great sadness. Matt put a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Michelle shrugged off Matt’s hand. “Don’t say that,” she said.

“Don’t say what?”

“ ‘He’ll be back.’ You don’t know that.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said.

Michelle shook her head, shoulders slumping. “Just don’t say stupid things. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t even know what’s going to happen to us.”

“Join the illustrious Mecha Auxiliaries,” Jahl said, chuckling.

“Or continue your training as Hellion pilots,” Peal added. “After all, Colonel Cruz says the past is the future!”

Matt nodded, but neither of those options had any appeal. He couldn’t imagine being Mecha Auxiliary, even in Intelligence, like Jahl. He’d never have a chance to find that Corsair. It would be a comfortable, dead-end life, just like being an analyst for a terraforming corporation.

As for working in a Hellion after piloting a Demon, that would be like marrying the best friend of the woman you loved.

“ It ain’t over till it’s over,” Soto said in a rich, voice-over tone. “And I don’t see any fat ladies singing yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Matt asked.

Michelle snorted. “More old Earth sayings.”

“They’re not just sayings,” Soto said. “It’s not over. It’s a pause. Wait till the other pilots fail, and then Roth will give us another shot.”

“You think so?” Michelle asked, crossing her arms.

“Anything can happen.” But Soto looked away.

 

The next week, Michelle went back into the Hellions. Not as full Mecha Corps, like they’d offered, but into advanced training for Merge. Matt watched in the Hellion docks as she worked with the Corps on Merging with Flight Packs first. Her first few tries resulted only in half-finished Merges, with shining antimatter jets gleaming below the incomplete dark-
Mercury
hide of the Hellion. She tumbled out of the cockpit, exhausted, to watch as a more experienced Corps person got in to complete the Merge—in mocking irony, it happened to be Sanjiv. The Hellion seemed to be sneering at them as Sanjiv completed the Merge.

Eventually, Michelle mastered the art of Merging with the Flight Pack, but she got hung up again when it was time to Merge the Hellions themselves. Now Sanjiv and Pelletier were both apologetic.

“It takes years to learn this,” they said.

“Not for him,” Michelle said, nodding at Matt. “He did it back on Earth, a couple weeks into cadet training.”

“Oh yeah. Funny,” Pelletier said. Sanjiv laughed too.

On the dock later alone with Matt, she asked, “Why don’t you try it?”

“I’m not ready,” Matt said. And that was true. But he’d have to make his decision soon. Cruz had given them a week’s leave to recover and choose their course. They could go on to Hellion piloting or stay in the Auxiliaries.

Neither of which worked for Matt. He tried to see Dr. Roth and plead his case, but Roth seemed to be avoiding him. So he spent his time camped out in front of Yve’s office or watching Michelle or sitting and poking at a slate in the Decompression Lounge, looking for a lever to use on Roth.

But Roth was like the HuMax. All the histories read the same. They started a decade ago, when Roth’s Advanced Mechaforms had revolutionized Mecha technology. Before that, Roth’s CV included a short stint at a conventional mechanical Mecha manufacturer a dozen years before he founded Advanced Mechaforms. His bio noted only “independent research” during those years. There was speculation he had gone to the Taikong during that time, due to some travel records that took him to the edge of the Union. But swapping allegiances between the different IGOs was insane; it was rumored that the Taikong implanted you with track-and-kill devices using FTL technology, and defecting from the Aliancia might involve you in a duel to the death, if you ever met another citizen of that realm.

Roth’s technology was equally shrouded in mystery. The only thing accessible to Matt was an assessment of biometal versus composite armor, confirming the dramatic superiority of biomechanical technology. The only thing interesting was a small notation after tests involving a
Nuclear Annihilator (Enhanced Output).
A sidebar noted:
Biometallic mass damaged beyond regenerative capability; refer to Appendix C for analysis of resulting new form.

But Appendix C was classified, so Matt was left with his own speculation about what new form the Mecha may have become.

Eventually, Matt caught Yve in the lounge. Yve was sitting at his customary upside-down table, without even a drink bulb in front of him. As if he were waiting for Matt.

“Hey,” Yve said, as Matt came up to him.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Yve shook his head. “Usually a more subtle approach is best. Like ‘Hello, stranger.’ ”

“Have you?”

“If I were, I wouldn’t be here now,” Yve said, running a hand through his hair.

“I have to talk to Roth.”

“So you talk to me?” Yve smiled.

“You’re the oversight, aren’t you? Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” But Matt knew Yve was right. He was just looking for someone, anyone, to talk to.

Yve let the silence stretch out. “Are you going to go for the Hellion corps?”

Matt clenched his fists. That was the real question, wasn’t it? That’s what he had to decide. And if he got right down to it, why wouldn’t he? He’d be able to hunt down his father’s murderer just as well in a Hellion as in a Demon.