Mech Corps Read online

  MECH CORPS

  Jake Bible

  Copyright 2017 by Jake Bible

  Part One

  Jethro

  1.

  The drop ship fell through the atmosphere at a rate that should have liquefied every brain on board if not for the dampeners in place to prevent just that from happening. Sixty men and women, ten to an infantry squad, sat strapped to the walls of the drop ship, most with their eyes shut tight and jaws clenched, all ready to get to the dirty work of clearing out their drop zone.

  “Two minutes to touch down.”

  No one flinched even though the announcement was almost ear shatteringly loud in the comms. A little ringing in the ears was the least of the infantry’s worries.

  Hrouska was a newly discovered planet, one that showed all signs of being able to support long-term human habitation, but no one had explored it beyond a few square kilometers. Any dangers the planet held would be found out by the men and women that were currently falling at terminal velocity to the planet’s surface.

  “One minute to touch down. BFI!”

  BFI, or brace for impact, were always the last words heard before the drop ship hit dirt. Sometimes they were the last words heard for infantry squads. Landing in the unknown was not for the faint of heart or weak of spirit. Survival was a concept, not a guarantee.

  The drop ship slammed into the planet’s surface and the men and women were up on their feet the second their straps released, the hatch of the ship began to open, and the rear ramp dropped. Coordination was still a theory at that point, so half the bodies ended up colliding with each other before the owners found stability, explosive-round carbines clutched tightly in gloved hands, and raced to the rear of the ship.

  “Even squads cover the three! Odds cover the nine! Clear then proceed forward after a five count! Set the circle and protect the DZ!”

  “Hooyah!” the squads replied in unison.

  Squads moved like well-oiled machines, swerving in and out of each other, taking up defensive positions along the perimeter of the drop ship, carbines trained on the almost pitch black jungle that surrounded the landing zone. After a count of five, half the squads moved forward, pushing into the outer edges of the jungle until they were a good six meters in.

  In unison, half of those squads took knees, eyes on the darkness, while the other half kept moving, delving deeper into the alien landscape.

  “Talk to me squad leaders!”

  “No hostiles on the eight!”

  “No hostiles on the two!”

  “No hostiles on the six!”

  “No hostiles on the–!”

  “No hostiles on–!”

  “Jesus Christ! What the hell are those?”

  The darkness was broken by the muzzle fire of thirty carbines. Strange trees that stood fifteen meters high with willowy branches and strands of hairy moss hanging off came into view in brief, strobe-like glimpses as explosive round after explosive round was fired at whatever the squads had encountered.

  “Report, squad leaders! What are you seeing out there?”

  “I can’t see shit, LT!”

  “No goddamn clue! I’ve lost half my squad and I don’t know how!”

  “LT! Call in orbital support!”

  “Orbital support is last resort only!”

  “What the hell do you think–?”

  “Talk to me, squad leaders!”

  “We are!”

  “Jesus shitting on a stump! What are those things?”

  Screams began to overtake the sound of carbine fire. Men and women crying out for help, screeching in agony, terror filling every warble and waver in their voices.

  “Fire in the hole!”

  Two trees set at the drop ship’s five o’clock position were engulfed in flames as incendiary grenades went off one after the other. The night brightened and the soldiers that hadn’t moved from their positions by the drop ship all gasped in unison.

  There were things in the jungle. Alien things that none could quite describe. All they knew were the things moved fast. Real fast.

  “Requesting a full retreat, LT!”

  “Hold your position, squad leaders! We do not give up just because we are engaged!”

  “LT! I can’t see my–!”

  “Jesus Christ, LT! I just watched squads eight, three, and one get ripped apart!”

  “This ain’t good, LT! We can’t hold this position!”

  “LT? Come in, LT!”

  “You will hold the goddamn position! This DZ has been designated as vital to our mission! Do not retreat!”

  “Shit!”

  “Fire in the hole!”

  “Fire in the hole!”

  “Fire in the–!”

  Five more trees blazed, flames racing up their trunks and across the willowy limbs. The fire quickly spread out across the canopy and the entire area was illuminated in oranges and reds. So much red.

  ***

  Lieutenant Henry Nep sat in the cockpit of the drop ship, his eyes flitting from vid screen to vid screen, as he struggled to keep from throwing up. It was far from his first mission. Hell, it was far from his twentieth mission. But, never, not once, had things gone south so fast. He’d dropped into the shit plenty of times, but never once did it get over his head so much that he was going to drown in it.

  “What the hell are they fighting?” Nep snarled. “I can’t see a damn thing out there!”

  “Not a clue, LT,” the pilot replied, her hands firmly gripped on the flight stick and throttle. “But you say the word and we are out of here.”

  “You heard what I said,” Nep responded. “Brass wants this DZ cleared and held. We will clear it and we will hold it.”

  “LT…” the co-pilot said. “I don’t know what the men and women are fighting out there, but I do know that whatever they are, they’re winning. Our people are getting slaughtered.”

  Three of the twelve vid screens went dark while another was splattered with so much blood that it may as well have.

  “Sweet Lord…” Nep whispered. His hand hesitated over the comms, pulled back, then hurried forward and depressed the link to the ship orbiting a thousand plus kilometers above the planet. “Command? This is Nep requesting authorization for immediate evac. We are getting ripped to shreds down here.”

  The drop ship shuddered. Hard. Two more vid screens went dark.

  “Command? Come in!”

  “Shit, LT, comms are out,” the co-pilot said. “Something must have damaged the relay.”

  “Then get out there and fix it, goddammit!” Nep shouted.

  “You go out there and fix it!” the co-pilot replied.

  “Order the evac and let me get us out of here,” the pilot said. “Call an audible, LT. No comms means it’s your play.”

  “The brass wants the DZ held,” Nep said more to himself than to pilot or co-pilot.

  Both were used to how Nep worked, so they gave him five seconds to figure it out before they sprang into action.

  “I’m securing the personnel area,” the co-pilot said as he jumped up out of his seat and yanked open the hatch that separated the drop ship’s two compartments.

  “Bringing engines back online,” the pilot said.

  “All squads return to the DS now!” Nep shouted into the comms. “This is a full retreat! Get your asses into the personnel hold immediately! We are taking off in thirty seconds!”

  “Faster if I can,” the pilot muttered.

  The drop ship shuddered again and the co-pilot came racing back into the cockpit, slamming the hatch closed with all his might. He spun the hatch door wheel until it locked in place then mashed his palm against a red button off to the side. The seams around the hatch smoked and sparked as an auto weld began to seal the hatch closed.

 
“Oh, shit,” the pilot said.

  “Is the ramp still down?” Nep asked.

  “It’s down,” the co-pilot cried as he fell into his seat and strapped in. “Get us out of here.”

  “We have to wait for the squads!” Nep yelled. “We are not leaving them behind!”

  “You want to live or die, LT?” the co-pilot roared. “Because those are your choices! The squads are lost, LT!”

  Nep turned back to the remaining vid screens and stared at the horror outside the drop ship. Only three screens were active and they showed men and women firing at random, incendiary grenades, concussion grenades, and the newly developed plasma grenades going off left and right. Body parts flew through the air, there was nothing but pure panicked chaos. Then one by one, the vid screens died and the local comms cut off, plunging the cockpit into silence.

  Almost silence.

  A heavy thudding accompanied each shuddering impact of the drop ship. Then a loud clang echoed from the hatch, causing Nep to jump and pull his sidearm.

  “Put that away,” the pilot said as she slowly pushed the throttle forward and pulled back on the flight stick. “You’ll kill us with a ricochet. I’m getting us out of here.”

  The hatch bowed inward as something massive slammed into it.

  “Faster!” the co-pilot cried, his eyes locked onto the warped metal of the hatch. “Oh, sweet Jesus, go faster!”

  Nep locked his eyes on the hatch as it continued to bow in its welded frame. He lifted the pistol and took aim.

  “Faster, faster, faster, faster,” the co-pilot muttered over and over as the nose of the drop ship began to angle upward while the pilot pushed the throttle harder.

  “Try the emergency comms,” the pilot said to Nep. “We have to connect with command.”

  Nep didn’t move. He was frozen in place as one after another, dents began forming in the hatch.

  “LT!” the pilot yelled.

  “Yeah,” Nep said. He holstered his pistol and popped a panel open in the comms system. He yanked out an ancient-looking handset and depressed the button. “Command? This is Nep! We have lost the squads! I repeat! We have lost the squads! The DZ was under attack the second we touched down!”

  “Don’t you dare tell them about–” the co-pilot started.

  “Unknown hostile is aboard the DS! We have it locked out, but we will need assistance upon landing!” Nep continued.

  “Goddammit, LT!” the co-pilot screeched. “You asshole! You just killed us!”

  Nep’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d done. Unknown hostile on board the DS. No way command would allow the orbiting ship to be compromised.

  “Maybe it didn’t go through,” Nep said. “Maybe they can’t hear us.”

  “Yeah. Maybe,” the pilot said, her eyes forward, watching as the dark clouds of the upper atmosphere began to thin then clear away. “Let’s pray that’s what happened.”

  ***

  The two missiles impacted with the drop ship as soon as it broke through the cloud cover. The vehicle was vaporized instantly, leaving nothing but metallic particulates in its wake.

  ***

  Colonel Las Meera shook her head as she watched the drop ship’s signature go red then clear from the scanner screen.

  “How many is that?” she asked.

  “All of them, Colonel,” a tech replied. “All four drop ships have been lost. We didn’t secure a single drop zone.”

  “Shit,” Meera said. “You have definite confirmation?”

  “We don’t even have transponder signals,” a second tech said. “Two had to be cleansed from the air before they could contaminate the Dorso; the rest are just gone, Colonel.”

  “Gone,” Meera said. “Gone. How can we lose four drop ships and twenty-four infantry squads within thirty minutes? What in God’s name is down there?”

  “Whatever they are, they don’t want us setting foot on their planet,” Chief Science Officer Kev Cheepa said as he walked onto the bridge of the command ship Dorso. “You gonna listen to me now, Colonel?”

  “I listened to you before, Kev,” Meera said. “But we all have our orders.”

  “Except those orders cost those men and women down there their lives,” Cheepa responded. “I said we needed to do more scans before sending boots on the ground.”

  “Yeah, you are so damned smart,” Meera snarled. “Sit your ass down at your station, Cheepa, and shut up.”

  “Aye aye,” Cheepa said.

  “What’s our turnaround?” Meera asked one of the techs.

  “Colonel?” the tech replied.

  “Ship to station,” Meera said. “What is the turnaround on the comms to Station Beta Eight?”

  “Two weeks, Colonel,” the tech said. “The wormhole is all the way across the system and not the most stable portal. It’ll take a week for the message to reach the relay before it can be sent via trans-space.”

  “Shit,” Meera snapped and slammed her fist against the console in front of her. “No way to get it there faster?”

  “Speed is what speed is,” the tech said. “Two weeks is the best we can do.”

  “Fine,” Meera said. “Open a channel to Station Beta Eight. We’re gonna need backup.”

  “Backup?” Cheepa laughed. “Have you lost your mind, Colonel? We don’t need backup, we need to leave. We get back to SBE, show them the data, and regroup from there. This planet is lost to us. We’re one command ship. The Dorso is not equipped to handle whatever is–”

  “That’s quite enough, Cheepa!” Meera shouted. “We are not leaving orbit! Whatever killed our people down there is down there! Down! There! Not up here in orbit! I will send a message to SBE and await further instructions! Are we understood?”

  “Loud and, sir,” Cheepa replied instantly. “Loud and…”

  “Good,” Meera said and closed her eyes. She shook her head. “How much data can you send?”

  “Data, sir?” the tech asked.

  “What little vid we were able to gather,” Meera said. “Can you send that with the message?”

  “I can, sir, but it’ll reach SBE about five days after your message.”

  “Do it. I’ll let them know in my message that it is incoming. Is the channel open?”

  “Channel is open, sir,” the tech said. “Ready to record on your mark.”

  “Record,” Meera said and cleared her throat. “Station Beta Eight, this is Colonel Las Meera of the Orbital Command Ship Dorso…”

  2.

  “After exploring thirteen exoplanets all within Goldilocks parameters, we have yet to encounter a xeno species more sentient than a house cat, General,” Ambassador Beryl Torn said, a wicked smile on her face. “Why should the United Exploratory Coalition continue to fund what seems to me, an excessive amount of firepower to put down some overgrown vermin?”

  “Have you ever pissed off a house cat?”

  “You know what I am saying, General.”

  General Malique Jennings leaned back against the railing of the catwalk that hung above the main repair hangar where everything from drop ship landing gear to orbital command ship engines to half-assembled battle mechs were all in various states of repair and disrepair. The space was massive, and the noise from below was nearly deafening, but the members of the special tour General Jennings was leading all had protective earpieces which allowed them to communicate with each other while avoiding permanent hearing damage.

  Still, the shrieking of metal saws and shrill whines of hydraulic drills was hard to keep out, and Jennings had to suppress a grin as Torn flinched from the sound of a tungsten saw blade shearing in half as it lost its battle against a stubborn coupling that had frozen solid on a battle mech’s leg.

  “Did you have your inoculations before taking this trip to the outer reaches, Ambassador?” Jennings asked.

  “I fail to see how my personal medical information is relevant, General,” Torn said, her nose ticking up a centimeter into the air in indignation. “Unless you are merely trying to a
void answering my question by picking a fight with me on a personal level. Let me warn you that–”

  Jennings held up a hand and shook his head.

  “No, Ambassador,” Jennings said. “The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with someone known for her crushing debate skills.”

  The rest of the tour group chuckled and even the ambassador had to smile at the compliment.

  “Let me answer my own question,” Jennings said. “As the commanding officer of Station Beta Eight, I have access to the files of every single person that steps foot through the airlocks. That includes you, Ambassador. Now, I haven’t looked at yours, or anyone else’s here, but I can say with certainty that you have had your inoculations or you would never have been cleared for travel this far out.”

  “You are amusing, General, but you are also trying my patience,” Torn said.

  “My apologies,” Jennings said. “What I am getting at is that you had those inoculations in order to minimize the threat of succumbing to any diseases that your body is not used to. I like to think of my Mech Expeditionary Units as the military equivalent of those inoculations.”

  “You are reaching with that metaphor, General,” Torn said.

  “Could be. You are probably right,” Jennings said and laughed. He pushed away from the railing and stood straight, his eyes narrow and intense as he stared down at the much shorter ambassador. “How safe would you feel if I took a couple steps towards you?” Jennings took two steps closer. “And coughed?”

  He coughed and Torn took two involuntary steps back.

  “Now, imagine that cough was the first aggressively sentient xeno race humankind encounters,” Jennings continued. “You’ve had your inoculations, so that cough shouldn’t worry you. Just like I have my MEUs, so when we do encounter that aggressively sentient xeno race, I won’t be worried. And, Ambassador, if I’m not worried, then you aren’t worried. My job here is to take the worry out of exploring the stars and finding us all some new homes we can settle while poor Earth quickly collapses under one environmental catastrophe after another.”