Mecha Rogue (3 page)

Inside, he found an arcade, filled with virtualities. They used simplified versions of the Mecha interface suits and viewmasks. Matt ignored the whispers of the people around him as he connected into one called
Mecha Corps: Final Adventure.

Matt burst out laughing. It was just another rescue-the-ambassador scenario, running through the maze of a Union city to battle Corsairs armed with conventional weapons. There was no Mesh high. Nor was there a single challenge. He'd done more intense exercises at training camp. It couldn't even compare to his time on Keller—

Fighting those weird Corsair Mecha.

The thought still unsettled him. Corsairs weren't supposed to have Mecha. No other interstellar governmental organization besides the Union had biomechanical Mecha. Everyone knew that.

Matt stripped out of the game suit and went back outside to the pool, nursing his gut-twisting unease. No matter what the Union said, Corsairs had Mecha now. Mecha such as he'd never seen, with a weapon he'd never experienced. Were they a result of Rayder's capturing Hellions less than a year ago? Could they have cracked the code so fast, when even Union labs couldn't unravel Dr. Salvatore Roth's technological secrets?

Matt shook his head. It seemed as though his life was nothing but questions. And it was clear the Union wanted him here at the resort so he wouldn't have any desire to ask them.

* * *

The next few days were like walking through a dream. Matt's Mesh hangover slowly abated, but the need to get back into the Demon grew. He found himself sketching little stick-figure Demons on the napkin fabric in the Pleasure Dome Lounge.

Some days he met Michelle and Soto for breakfast; some days he didn't. Even through their Mesh hangover, they both had that intent, serious Mecha Corps look. They didn't doubt they were doing what was right and good. Even after Jotunheim and the Union cover-up, even after Keller and all the unresolved questions.

Shangri-La offered a whole range of Newhome tours, via land, air, or sea. Matt went with Michelle and Soto to the Capitol Plaza, hoping to recapture that sense of awe he'd felt when he first arrived on Earth and saw the ruins of Cape Canaveral.

Capitol Plaza was impressive. Ringed by towering skyscrapers and placid canals, it was more like a park than a plaza. Roman pillars fronted the grand entrance of the Congress Hall, above which was inscribed the Union motto:
IN UNITY, ADVANCEMENT. IN DISCORD, DECAY.

But the neoclassical buildings, massive monuments, and parklike grounds didn't impress Matt. Even the festive crowds of tourists, clutching Union starburst flags, didn't change his mood.

The only thing that stirred his feelings was a massive, dull black slab of vitreous stone, as big as a football field. Set away from the other buildings among rolling hills of carefully cultivated Earth bluegrass and poplars, the slab was deeply scarred by fusion exhaust. On its side was a number: 100.

Platform 100. Built to mark the landing place of the first shuttle from Earth, carried here inside the first Displacement Drive asteroid ship. Launches from Platform 99 on Earth were what built the asteroid ship and started the Expansion.

At Platform 100, Michelle stopped and stared for a long time, her smiling face turning somber.

“What's the matter?” Matt asked her.

Michelle shook her head. “Just thinking about how far we've come.”

Matt nodded. Michelle was from Earth. This had special meaning for her. He remained silent and let her look. Maybe she was thinking of her parents, forever bound in their Earth jobs.

Back at the resort that evening, Matt found Michelle sitting alone in the Shangri-La open-air bar, at a little table overlooking Newhome Valley. She looked wistfully out at the valley as an untouched glass of white wine sat in front of her. From this angle, the thin ribbon of the space elevator sliced a neat diagonal into the darkening sky. The passenger module was visible as a tiny pinprick of light, far up the ribbon.

“Waiting for someone?” Matt asked.

Michelle jumped, then turned and shook her head. Her eyes seemed to look through him, at something very far away. “No. Just . . . passing the time.”

“Waiting to go back?”

A sigh. “Just enjoying my time here, right now. You should try it sometime.”

You're enjoying it because this is all part of Mecha Corps,
Matt thought. The reward for good corpspersons who don't ask too many questions.

But, for once, he was able to push that thought aside. It was okay. Michelle was all-in. She'd always been all-in. It's what she was.

“Have you thought about . . . are you going to be Mecha Corps the rest of your life?” Matt asked, finally.

Michelle looked out across the city for a long time before responding, “Probably. But for the moment, it's nice not to have to work so hard for a while. Don't you get tired of working sometimes?”

No,
Matt thought. But was that true? Not really. He was living his life at a dead run. He didn't have time to think about what he was doing.

I don't want to think about what I'm doing. There are already enough questions.

“I don't know,” he told her, finally.

Michelle focused on him. Her blue eyes were still and clear, fixed on his own. She was waiting for something. Waiting for him.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Matt asked.

Michelle's eyes widened. “Are you asking me out? On a date?”

Was that what he was doing? Since Mecha Training Camp, to the hidden Mecha Base and through all their experience together in the Corps, their lives had been too breakneck to even think of dating. But now—

“Yes. I am.”

Michelle stood up, smiling, and offered Matt her arm. “I thought you'd never ask.”

Matt took her arm. This was it. His chance.

Michelle grinned up at him. For one moment, the world was perfect. “It's just too bad we have to eat that—well, whatever that stuff is they're feeding us at the Pleasure Dome.”

Matt nodded. It was supposed to be haute cuisine, but he'd never developed a taste for it. Not as a refugee.

There had to be other places to eat. The Newhome tour shuttle had passed through a number of little townships on the way up to the resort. They had to have restaurants.

“Who said we have to?” he asked her, explaining his idea.

“I don't think we're supposed to leave,” Michelle said.

“We just did, this morning.”

“I mean, besides the tours.”

“You took out the universe's greatest supervillain, but you'll follow the rules now?” Matt teased.

Michelle laughed. “You're right.”

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. She took it and let him lead her through the grounds, out the gate, and down the smooth concrete roads to the nearest cluster of houses and apartments. It turned out to be a small village, with a main street, a market, a little touristy art gallery, a bar, and a single restaurant named From the Earth.

Matt and Michelle shared a grin at the name and went in. As promised, the place featured a whole slew of old-Earth-type foods, heavy on the hamburgers and fries. Soon the two were diving happily into old-fashioned plastic baskets of grease-soaked food, under the bemused gaze of the owner of the place.

“Much better!” Michelle said. “I was wondering who I'd have to kill to get a burger in the Corps.”

Matt nodded. Even he knew what hamburger was, though the refugee ship version was made from vat-grown meat. The Corps was heavy on Insta-Paks and gloppy stuff that wouldn't fly away in zero g.

“This is fun,” he said.

“You're finally enjoying yourself?” Michelle asked, her eyes glittering in the low light of the restaurant.

“It's good being here. With you.”

Michelle beamed, magnifying her beauty tenfold. Matt smiled back at her, feeling, just for a moment, as if he belonged. Maybe there was a future with her. With Mecha Corps or not.

“We should do this every night,” he told her.

Michelle nodded. “Yes!” Then her expression darkened, and she added, “Not tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Silence for a long time. Then: “I'm seeing Kyle.”

Anger flared red-hot in Matt. Kyle Peterov. The Eridani senator's son and former Mecha pilot. The guy who'd stolen Michelle away from him. The guy who'd tried to kill him, in the grip of Mesh rage. Of course he'd be here on Eridani. Probably working in a comfortable job Daddy had arranged for him.

“Don't be angry,” Michelle said. “He called, and I—”

“Had to fly back into his arms,” Matt finished for her.

Michelle flushed. “We're just friends. I don't see why you hate him so much.”

“How can you see this guy? He's the reason the Corsairs probably have Mecha.”

“Matt, that's not fair. He was captured by Rayder—”

“And
we
killed Rayder. Without him.”

“You can't blame him for the Mecha on Keller. They don't even look like Hellions. And who's to say they haven't been working on Mecha for years? It's not like it's a secret the Union has them. We just have to make better Mecha now.”

Matt clenched his fists, struggling with his rage. “So it's all forgiven with him now? Just pick back up where you've started, is that it?”

Michelle dropped her eyes, her mouth set in a thin line. “You're starting to make me feel like I have to make a choice.”

“We all have to make choices. I try to make good ones.”

Michelle reddened. She pushed her plate away and stood up. “We should go.”

Matt saw his chance flying away. His whole future with her lay in ruins, like a nuclear wasteland. “I'm sorry,” he said, standing.

Michelle gave him one last murderous glance and headed for the door. After paying the owner, Matt followed her back up the hill to the resort. She didn't even glance back at him as she stomped off to her room.

Matt stood in the hall, his fists clenched into white balls of pain. His last words echoed in his mind.
“We all have to make choices. I try to make good ones.”

Yeah. Right.

* * *

The next morning, Matt had a breakfast visitor. Which was fine. His food was tasteless, and he dreaded seeing Michelle again. He looked up to see a familiar person, wearing full Mecha Corps uniform. Colonel James Cruz, former leader of Mecha Base.

“Can we talk, Captain?” Colonel Cruz asked.

Matt studied the man. His craggy face. His carefully combed silver hair. Was that what he would become, forty years from now?

“Talk away,” Matt told him. “Sir.”

“In a less public place, perhaps?” Colonel Cruz asked.

Matt shrugged. It didn't matter. He let Colonel Cruz lead him to a small meeting room, with a single window that looked out onto the grounds.

“I'm here for two reasons,” Colonel Cruz told Matt. He pulled a small velvet case out of his breast pocket and opened it. Inside was the oak-leaf insignia of a major in the Mecha Corps.

“First, congratulations, Major Matt Lowell. For valor and bravery in action on Keller, I'm pleased to—”

“Valor and bravery?” Matt blurted, unable to stop himself. “We overpowered them a thousand to one. They weren't even ready for us.”

“Regardless, Major, you were decisive.”

“What were those Mecha on Keller?” Matt asked.

Cruz's eyes narrowed. “I'm not at liberty—”

“Nobody is supposed to have Mecha, except the Union.”

“I can't discuss confidential information—”

“Tell me, or you can close that case and walk away,” Matt said, his hands shaking. He felt as if he'd stepped outside himself, and was watching from far away.

Cruz ground his teeth. “Are you threatening a superior officer?”

“No. I'm saying that if you don't talk to me, I'll continue doing my part for the Mecha Corps as a captain and Demonrider. Hell, send me back now. But I don't want any more bribes. I want answers. I think I deserve that.”

Cruz nodded, sighed, and shook his head. Finally he said, “We suspected the Corsairs had something, but we were as surprised as you were on Keller. ACCs are one thing. This is another. A new faction. I don't know a whole lot more about the Mecha, but I'm told it's not purely biomechanical. It's more like an automated sentry, with very, very good system disruption software.”

Matt sat back, his mind churning. That jibed with what Peal had said. If the damn silver Mecha weren't so fragile, or if there were more of them, they'd be a formidable enemy.

“What about the people? On Keller?”

Cruz shook his head, but his eyes darted away.

“They were working with the Corsairs,” Matt said. Not a question, a statement.

Cruz wiped his face with his hand. “Corsairs can be persuasive when they need to be.”

“How?” Matt howled. How could anyone join forces with those—those animals?

Cruz shook his head, but said nothing.

“And the second reason you're here?” Matt asked.

Cruz nodded. “Concurrent with your promotion, I am authorized to offer you a singular post at Mecha Training Camp, optimizing a new team for a special mission critical to the stability of the Union. Time is of the essence.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Any more details?”

Cruz shook his head. “I can give you none until you agree to take the mission. The only thing I can say is that this is absolutely critical, and you will be rewarded for your participation.”

“Publically recognized?”

“Rewarded,” Cruz said firmly.

Matt nodded. So it was another mission like Rayder. Another impossible objective. Or something the Union needed covered up like whatever they were protecting deep underground on Keller. It was one of those things he should ask Soto about. He should tell Michelle. He should sit and think and maybe even sleep on it.