Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (30 page)

“Outsiders are not welcome,” Hollow Eye said. “The wasteland holds enough abominations. We do not need foreign entities invading what is ours. What has been chosen for us.”

“That is why I was led here,” Shiner said. “To find help. To go to war.”

“To war!” all of the mechs cried at once. Even the mini-mechs stopped their work and raised their tools in the air.

“And this war?” Hollow Eye asked. “It will be against the blasphemous flesh?”

“It will be against mechs,” Shiner said. “Stupid mechs that are nothing but shells for their human pilots. Canadian mechs.”

“Canadian mechs,” a couple mechs echoed as if the words were somehow dangerous.

“Mechs from the north,” Hollow Eye grunted. “They will be good to kill.”

***

It wasn’t a perfect fit, but Shiner figured the mech he chose would do. Its AI had expired years before, and the body was there to be salvaged for parts when needed, so there wasn’t any issue of Shiner breaking any taboos. The only issue was that it was regular steel and iron, wasteland quality. He longed for the malleability of his BC mech.

Mini-mechs hurried about the Womb, readying all the mechs for battle. With Shiner’s clapped together mech, and the almost repaired Hollow Eye, there were five full-size mechs in total.

One was a squat bruiser named Thunk, built for close combat and punching through city/state walls. The machine constantly jabbed at the air, testing the massive pistons that drove its arms.

The second mech was a normal looking mech except for its right arm. In place of the forearm was a massive drill, what engineers called a corer. The drill spun and spun, giving off a high-pitched howl that filled the cavern. Awl Good was what the mech called itself, eliciting a grumble of annoyance from Hollow Eye when it introduced itself to Shiner.

The third full-size mech was enormous. Not Stomper huge, but at least a full story taller than the other mechs. Its arms and legs had twice the amount of struts and hydraulics than the other mechs required. In addition it had two artillery cannons fused to its back, both on tracks that ran up and over the mech’s shoulders. The thing could bring them up and fire when it wanted, yet staying perfectly stable as its reinforced legs held to the ground. Two loading arms stuck out from the cannons, able to auto-load the cannons, keeping the mech’s hands free for combat.

“Bad Shell,” the mech said when it introduced itself to Shiner.

The only issue Shiner saw with the rag tag mech group was that they didn’t have any human techs to do the fine tuning needed on some of the systems. He’d tried to hop in and repair what he could, but the other mechs bristled at having him inside them. They would have to go to battle with limited com, limited sensors, and limited battle data.

It would be a free form attack and Shiner wasn’t too sure that was a bad thing. He had begun to feel a freedom he hadn’t felt since his AI had first expanded its consciousness and he’d started to understand what he was.

The mini-mechs finished their tinkering and adjustments and stepped to the cavern walls.

“You will not be resting here,” Shiner said to the minis. “You will be joining us. We do not have the luxury of leaving perfectly capable metal behind.”

“The minis will be going to war?” Thunk asked. “Smashing, crashing and breaking the Cans?”

Shiner liked the term for the Canadian mechs. “The Cans. Yes. The minis will fight along side us and help as we destroy the cans.”

“A high task for such base machines,” Hollow Eye said. “It is not what the Great Maker intended.”

“The Great Maker has left us,” Awl Good replied. “Abandoned us here. Should we not take up his place and show the minis the glory of battle in the wasteland?”

“Too much talk,” Bad Shell snarled. “The minis will come. They will fight. They will die. That will be their glory.”

“It is not an optimistic view,” Shiner said.

“I am not an optimistic mech,” Bad Shell replied. “I am a warrior mech. They will die.”

Several of the mini-mechs seemed to shift from one foot to the other.

“Aw, you are making them nervous with the talk of the permanent death,” Awl Good noted. “Perhaps optimism might be a good strategy?”

“The good strategy is to win,” Bad Shell said as he clomped away, ready to leave the cavern and head to war. “Any other strategy is stupid thinking.”

Awl Good and Thunk followed Bad Shell quickly while Shiner and Hollow Eye stayed back for a moment.

“Bad Shell has strong opinions,” Hollow Eye said. “And he does not waiver from them.”

“That is noted,” Shiner replied.

***

Not able to all fit at once, and none of the mechs willing to follow the other, the massive machines burst through the valley floor sending chunks of scorched earth flying in every direction. The mini-mechs followed behind, but not too closely, their limited AIs wary of the uneasy alliance that had been formed.

Metal feet stomped across the barren valley floor, clouds of dust rising in the morning light, creating an orange haze that shifted and rolled with each footfall. Shiner had to adjust his thinking as he piloted his mech, not used to the non-responsive nature of the true metal. He’d been a mech at one point, but that seemed like a different world to him. His body had changed so many times -from dead mech to thinking mech, thinking mech with a human pilot to a thinking mech without a pilot, a mech AI with just a CPU to an independent biochrome body that had its own BC mech to use.

Shiner had been dead and reborn more than any entity in the wasteland. If he’d had the inclination he would have shaped a wide grin on his face as he realized, despite the obvious protestations of blasphemy and abomination, he was the embodiment of the True Disciple that the Ranchers had been hoping for. The new trickster, the joker in him, wished that he would survive long enough to make that statement. He could see Mathew and the other mech pilots getting a laugh from it.

“How many Cans will we be facing?” Thunk asked. “The more the better.” The mech flexed its substantial fingers and made a couple of its jabs at the air. “I need a workout. I have been cooped up for too long.”

“The Great Maker did not like us to leave if there was not a reason,” Awl Good stated. “He believed that exposure was risk and risk was not worth sacrificing the work we were doing.”

“And what was that work?” Shiner asked. “I know I may have been a part of you long, long ago, but my memory does not hold any reason for the Great Maker’s madness.”

The mechs were silent and some of the mini-mechs fell back a step or two.

“Shiner is right,” Bad Shell said, finally breaking the tense silence. “The Great Maker was mad.”

“Bad Shell!” Hollow Eye exclaimed. “That blasphemy will lead you to Hell!”

“We have been abandoned,” Bad Shell said. “By a man that was trying to be a machine. He will be going to Hell for his blasphemy towards the perfection that is the metal.”

“You are well spoken,” Shiner responded. “Was your living pilot a man of learning?”

“No,” Bad Shell answered. “He was just a man.” The mech took a few extra strides and got ahead of the pack. “I am a machine of learning.”

Shiner, despite his initial impression, liked Bad Shell very much. That was a mech that would not bend in battle. Every single molecule of the machine seemed to be made up of confidence and strength without the closed mindedness that sometimes came with that.

Thirty-Seven

“You seeing what I’m seeing , Biz?” Harlow asked as she double checked her scans. “What the fuck is it?”

“Not a damn clue,” Bisby replied over the com.

“I have multiple life forms plus tech,” Marin said from the Railer train that that followed the tracks about a quarter mile from where the mechs clomped across the wasteland. “But I don’t recognize a few of the readings. What are they?”

“Dogs,” Lt. Murphy said from the Hybrid. “Those are dogs.”

“Dogs?” Bisby asked. “Bullshit. Dogs haven’t existed for centuries. They became food years before people started coming out of their hidey holes and checking out the wasteland.”

“You are forgetting that we aren’t the only people in the world anymore,” Murphy said. “Obviously they aren’t from around here.”

“Whatcha think, Biz? Go check them out?” Harlow asked.

“We’ve got a mission,” Bisby said. “Which is to engage and destroy a fuck ton of mechs coming at us. You can go play pet the doggy, but I’m gonna go play fucking destroy some mechs.”

“We’re on it,” Murphy said as the Hybrid broke off and changed course towards the readings. “We’re trained for recon like this.”

“Knock yourselves out,” Bisby said. “But if we chase every damn weird fucking thing in the wasteland then we’d never get to the fighting.”

“Half the time we fight is because we chase weird shit,” Harlow laughed. “I don’t know who you’re kidding.”

“It’s not far off and coming right at us,” Murphy responded. “It won’t be much of a detour.”

“Okay, so we are one less mech now,” Bisby snarked. “I’m loving the less is more strategy of warfare.”

“They’ll be there to back us up,” Harlow said. “Quit bitching.”

“Unless they get ambushed,” Marin said. “Could be a trap. I’d hate to lose those guys.”

“See?” Bisby snapped. “I’m not the only one.”

“You want to call Capreze and cry over the com?” Harlow shot back. “No? Then shut the fuck up, Biz.”

“What the fuck ever, Harlow,” Bisby growled. “I’m just saying it’s a stupid thing to do.”

“I think it’s worth a look,” Marin said. “But they better fucking hurry. We’re not too far from the first wave of mechs.” There was a slight pause. “You sure that One Arm mech of yours will behave?”

“It’ll behave,” Bisby replied quickly. “It has to or we both die.”

***

“Yeah, I see it,” Campbell said as LaFrance pointed towards the cloud of dust coming at them. She looked about the wide open wasteland that surrounded them. “But we’ve got no where to go.”

“We were bound to meet up with something,” LaFrance admitted. “Only a matter of time.”

“Friendly or hostile?” Campbell asked.

“Around here I don’t think you get to choose,” LaFrance said. “I think the choice is made for you. Keep moving. Better to get this over with.”

Campbell pushed the dogs on, knowing that LaFrance was right and they didn’t get to choose who they allied with. All she knew is there was a few hundred tons of BC on their asses and they didn’t have Shiner with them anymore. She hoped the bioborg would catch up, but as time went by she began to suspect that Shiner was long gone. He had been a remarkable machine, with capabilities she never dreamed an AI could have, but he wasn’t strong enough to survive a head on assault on the mechs that chased them.

“What is that?” LaFrance asked as a shape emerged from the dust. “Is it alive?”

“Other than humans there hasn’t been anything alive in the wasteland for four centuries,” Campbell stated. “It has to be machine.”

“Nothing I’ve seen before,” LaFrance said. “Not in any of the UDC records I’ve poured over.”

“Well we’ll find out soon enough” Campbell said. “Because they look like they’re picking up speed.”

***

“You gonna run them the fuck over, Grendetti?” Sol asked.

“Just keeping us on schedule,” Grendetti answered.

“Slow down, Grendetti,” Murphy ordered. “Don’t alarm them. If they’re friendly then we want them to stay that way.”

“And if they aren’t friendly?” Kafar asked.

“Then they die,” Murphy said. “Won’t matter how fast we come up on them. We’ll blast them from the sand just the same.”

“Jeezus,” Sol said as he studied the readings in front of him. “Real fucking dogs. Never, not in a million years did I think I would see that.”

“There’s a lot of things I never thought I’d see,” Grendetti laughed. “One being our Special Ops team clomping its way across the wasteland in a tin can.”

“Better than walking,” Kafar laughed. “Way better.”

“I prefer boots on the ground,” Murphy admitted. “The feel of a good run, the threat of death in the wide open, the movement from cover to cover at night, the determination to make the best time as possible even if your body wasn’t up to it.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Grendetti responded. “This tin can ain’t so bad after all.”

“Pussy,” Murphy joked.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Grendetti replied, enjoying himself. “I’m just a pussy that’s a damn fine fucking shot.”

“That could be our new team name,” Kafar said. “Since Special Ops is really UDC.”

“Name? What fucking name?” Sol asked.

“The Shooting Pussies,” Kafar replied, completely serious.

“You gotta be kidding,” Grendetti said.

“Maybe the Pussy Shots?” Kafar mused, caught up in it. “No, no, no! I got it! The Hot Pussy Shots! You know, like instead of just hot shots we’d be-.”

“Got it,” Murphy said. “And we aren’t an ATV club. We’re fucking soldiers. Special Ops is just fine.”

“Still think we need a name,” Kafar said.

“Come up with something that isn’t completely retarded and maybe we’ll vote on it,” Sol said.

“Vote?” Murphy asked, looking at each of her team. “You’ve been hanging out with the mechheads and Railers too much. This isn’t a democracy. We don’t vote on shit. I state an order, you fucknuts follow it.”

“The Fucknuts!” Kafar nearly shouted.

“Sweet Jeezus, shut up!” Grendetti snapped.

***

Campbell halted the sled and set the brake, jumping to the ground, rifle aimed at the stopped Hybrid. “I’ll feel this out,” she said as she started to walk forward.

“At ease, Campbell,” LaFrance ordered. “You aren’t going to do shit against whatever that is. Just hang back and let them come to us.”

It was only seconds before Specialist Sol and Lt. Murphy descended from the Hybrid, their own rifles to their shoulders, and walked slowly towards Campbell, LaFrance, the dogs and the sled.

“Identify yourselves!” Specialist Sol ordered. “You have three seconds to comply!”