Mecha Corps Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgements

  PART ONE - EARTH

  Chapter 1 - DISPLACEMENT

  Chapter 2 - INDUCTION

  Chapter 3 - TESTS

  Chapter 4 - ASSESSMENT

  Chapter 5 - ENTRY

  Chapter 6 - WITHDRAWAL

  Chapter 7 - BREAKTHROUGH

  Chapter 8 - EXERCISE

  PART TWO - SPACE

  Chapter 9 - DISRUPTION

  Chapter 10 - BASE

  Chapter 11 - DEMON

  Chapter 12 - MERGE

  Chapter 13 - QUESTIONS

  Chapter 14 - DECONSTRUCTION

  Chapter 15 - FRAGMENTATION

  PART THREE - BEYOND

  Chapter 16 - PAST

  Chapter 17 - ASSAULT

  Chapter 18 - HOME

  Chapter 19 - HUNT

  Chapter 20 - RETRIBUTION

  Chapter 21 - REWARD

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PUT UP OR SHUT UP

  “We could get killed out there?” asked a loud, clear voice from the group. It belonged to a deeply tanned woman in her thirties, wearing a sand-colored jumpsuit.

  Soto looked at her but addressed the group. “You fought long and hard to be invited. Did you think it would be any less of a fight once you got here?” Soto looked at his watch. “We’ll begin in thirty seconds.”

  One man took off his face shield and threw it down. “This is crazy! I didn’t come here for this!”

  “You may quit at any time,” Soto said. “The rest of you will begin in twenty seconds.”

  Matt’s heart thumped triple time to the countdown in his head. His entire field of vision shook with the intensity of his fear, but at the same time, he’d never felt so alive.

  Matt glanced down at his Aurora University duffel bag. It contained his clothes, his diploma, and a single reminder of his childhood: a toy Imp Mecha, battered and worn by his passage through a dozen refugee ships. He’d miss the Imp, but he was now at Mecha Training Camp. There wasn’t a single thing in the bag that mattered anymore.

  Two, one, zero, he thought. Better become a hero.

  “Go,” Major Soto said.

  ROC

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

  Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,

  Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,

  Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,

  New Delhi - 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632,

  New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,

  Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, December 2011

  Copyright © Penguin Group (USA), Inc., 2011

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-55906-2

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For Lisa, who thinks atomic weapons are hilarious

  “You are remembered for the rules you break.”

  —Douglas MacArthur, General of the Army,

  United States of America

  “Nobody is ever born into this world as a soldier.”

  —Rau Le Creuset, Elite ZAFT Commander,

  Mobile Suit Gundam SEED

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the following individuals. Without their sup port, this book would never have been written.

  Pete Harris, who was my mentor throughout.

  Matthew Cohen, who thought it would be a good idea for Pete and I to talk.

  Lisa, and her unending patience and understanding.

  MECHA CLASSES

  Excerpted from Mecha Cadet Training Content

  Version 4.1.a, 04.13.2316

  PREMECHA

  POWERLOADER: A simple, powered exoskeleton used for transport of heavy loads or augmentation of manual labor. Widely used across the Universal Union, Corsair Confederacy, and other Interstellar Governmental Organizations (IGOs). Typical height: 2.5–3 m. Typical weaponry: none.

  MECHANICAL MECHA

  RASCAL: An augmented PowerSuit, first used in combat at Pellham’s Front (Union colony). Still used on many fringe worlds of the Union, as well as on independent Displacement Drive ships. Typical height: 3–3.5 m. Typical weaponry: 5–15 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser.

  IMP: A large, tough Mecha design. Extensively used in both warfare and industry. Arguably the Mecha best known to the general public. Typical height: 8–8.5 m. Typical weaponry: 15–30 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser.

  VILLIAN: The last of the fully mechanical Mecha, built entirely for warfare. Led Union Army to decisive victory at Forest (former Corsair colony.) Extensive armament; exceptionally rugged. Typical height: 9 m. Typical weaponry : 15–30 mm depleted-uranium rifles, cutting laser, guided missiles.

  BIOMECHANICAL MECHA

  ROGUE: First-generation biomechanical Mecha from Advanced Mechaforms, Inc. Rogues transformed Mecha into the de facto surgical engagement tool of the Universal Union in the victory at New Jericho colony. Limited transformational capability. Typical height: 8 m. Typical weaponry: 10 mm depleted-uranium rifles, pulsed fusion device, antipersonnel missiles.

  HELLION: The standard second-generation biomechanical Mecha. Larger and more powerful than Rogue class. Neural buffering improves pilot usability. Good transformational ability; limited combinational ability. Typical height: 10 m. Typical weaponry: 15 mm depleted-uranium rifles, antipersonnel and guided missiles, pulsed fusion device, antimatter rifle.

  DEMON: Planned third-generation Mecha with both excellent transformational and combinational ability. Much larger than Hellion class. Exponential power capability. Additional . Typical height: 30 m. T
ypical weaponry: .

  PART ONE

  EARTH

  1

  DISPLACEMENT

  This is stupid, Matt Lowell thought, as the airlock cycled down to vacuum.

  Bright red letters on the hatch read UUS MERCURY SURFACE-ACCESS PORT 3A—NO EGRESS AT DISPLACEMENT. And yet here he was, getting ready to go outside, with Displacement only minutes away.

  Matt licked dry lips and took a deep, shuddering breath. Yeah. It was dumb. But he had to do it. This was his last day as a civilian. It was time to say good-bye to his old life.

  The air-lock screen flashed bright red: AIRLOCK EVACUATED. But Matt stayed on the steel bench a moment longer. You don’t have to say good-bye like this, he thought. Go back inside and watch the Displacement from the viewports, like everyone else.

  No. He’d already slipped the digger a twenty for his ill-fitting space suit. And Displacement was close. He might not have time to unsuit and make it to the viewing deck.

  Matt sighed and levered the air lock open. The surface of the UUS Mercury looked like any other Displacement Drive ship: dusty, brittle gray rock, punctuated by air locks, hatches, antennae, and reconnaissance towers. A converted asteroid. So much like the refugee ships he used to call home.

  Matt slipped out onto the surface and tugged the lock closed. Mercury’s bridge rose against the short horizon, a shining metal cliff with bright-lit windows. Uniformed crew members gathered around colorful displays beyond the glass.

  Matt’s heart hammered. Could the crew see him? He shuffle-stepped behind the air lock, cursing the microgravity. If he moved too fast, he could build enough velocity for a one-way trip into deep space.

  On the other side of the air lock, Matt crouched, taking big breaths of suit air that stank of recycled sweat and asteroid. He expected warning Klaxons to blare on his comms and blinding security lights to flare any second.

  But nothing happened. Matt’s thundering heartbeat slowed. On this side of the air lock, the brittle gray-white rock and dust of the UUS Mercury’s surface was unbroken. It was as if he were alone on a pristine asteroid, whirling through space.

  Matt smiled. This was right. He needed to be here. It might be dangerous to be outside during Displacement, but it wasn’t that crazy. Yeah, everyone had a story about an uncle who lost a hand or a head when the Displacement field went unstable, but when you pressed them, they’d waffle. You’d find the uncle had been standing on a five-meter scaffold, or hanging ten meters out on an unauthorized dock. If you stayed near the surface, you were pretty safe. Matt had done it a hundred times as a kid, lying on the rock and watching the stars change. It was the best view in the universe.

  Beneath him, the UUS Mercury shivered slightly. Most likely the last of the heavy cargo ships arriving. Matt imagined the giant freighter nestling into one of Mercury’s titanic bays, and the steel doors grinding soundlessly shut. It wouldn’t be long before Displacement.

  He lay down on the surface. In the microgravity, it took several long seconds for him to settle. He put his hands behind his head, like he was relaxing on a beach in the sun.

  But this beach was ash colored and frigid, under a pitch-black sky sparked with a million chill stars, and lit by a blue-green world covering a quarter of the sky: Aurora. Only a few jewel-like city lights on the dark quarter of the planet showed the presence of humans. Even though Aurora was one of the oldest worlds in the Universal Union, it had never grown to the size of industrial giants like Geos or Eridani. It was a world dominated by Aurora University.

  Matt’s past three years had been spent on Aurora. It was the longest time he’d ever stayed on a planet. But even at a breakneck pace, even with his gifts, a degree in analytical business took time. He’d graduated summa cum laude with a half-dozen rich offers from the biggest corporations in the Union already in his pocket.

  And on that same day, he also received an invitation to Mecha Training Camp.

  Matt never had to weigh his options. Those employment offers were sitting in a trash can in his dorm room. His training camp invitation was inside his space suit, tucked in his breast pocket.

  The UUS Mercury vibrated violently, sending Matt skidding over the dusty rock of the asteroid ship. He instinctively reached out and grabbed a large rock to stop his slide. No problem. Displacement would happen any second. They always docked the largest ships last.

  The space suit’s communications unit lit up with a bright red ALERT light. A scratchy voice filled Matt’s helmet: “All personnel, prepare for Displacement in thirty seconds.”

  Matt imagined huge energies gathering in the fusion core of the UUS Mercury. But the energies were silent, buried deep in the center of the asteroid. He saw nothing, felt nothing.

  The scratchy voice blared again: “Displacement in twenty seconds.”

  A sudden thought hit Matt. Maybe this wasn’t dumb just because of the danger. He was breaking the rules of a Universal Union ship. What if they found out? Would it keep him out of training camp?

  “Displacement in ten. Nine. Eight. Seven—”

  He had no time to get back in the air lock and cycle it. Matt was committed, for better or worse.

  As the last seconds sounded, Matt suddenly remembered a childhood countdown rhyme. What they used to say on the Rock, the Displacement Drive refugee ship that had been his home.

  Five, four, three, time to flee.

  Two, one, zero, nobody’s a hero.

  Above him, the sky changed.

  Aurora disappeared. Earth filled Matt’s entire point of view, its brilliant blue-white surface seemingly close enough to touch. The sun shimmered off waves in the oceans, and lightning flashed under cloud banks at the terminator between day and night. They’d Displaced directly into low Earth orbit.

  Matt’s veins thrummed. He’d made it.

  Here and there on Earth’s surface, splotches of gray concrete and sparkling glass marked sprawling cities. Broad highways traced spidery lines across the continent. It was like seeing close-up photos of Eridani, the first-settled and most-populous world in the Union. But unlike Eridani, many of the highways were broken and incomplete, as if they’d fallen into disrepair. Some of the cities on the night side of the terminator were only dimly lit or completely dark.

  Matt frowned, gripped by sudden sadness. Earth was humanity’s first home, but time had passed it by. In the Universal Union, everyone knew the opportunities were on Eridani in politics, or Geos in technology, or Aurora in academia. You could have a quiet, comfortable life on one of a dozen second-tier worlds like Fedora or Epsilon. Or you could try to make it big on any of twenty frontier worlds, as long as you didn’t mind the chance of tangling with the Corsair Confederacy.

  But Earth? Earth was an end. The only thing new on Earth was Mecha Training Camp. Or, more accurately, BioMecha Pilot Candidate Training Facility No. 1, a Division of Advanced MechaForms, Inc., a Universal Union Exclusive Contractor.

  As the clouds shifted, three huge lakes in a clover-leaf pattern came into view. Matt realized what he was looking at: the continent of North America. Which meant that the ancient state of Florida should be in the Southeast.

  Thick clouds piled on Florida’s eastern coast, and lightning flashed inland. Strange lightning. Green tinged, it shot horizontally through heavy mist.

  With a start, Matt sat up straight. That wasn’t lightning. That was a battle.

  That’s Mecha Training Camp.

  Matt gulped, losing his breath in a rush of pure elation. That was where he was headed. That was where he was going to pilot a weapon powerful enough to be seen from orbit.

  He watched green sparks arc through wispy clouds, crossing half the peninsula. That was several hundred kilometers ! Were Mecha that fast? Mecha technology was the most carefully guarded secret in the Universal Union. Mecha didn’t march in parades. Mecha specs and capabilities weren’t released. Even the videos of Mecha taking out a Corsair terror cell in a sprawling frontier town were carefully edited.

  Not tha
t it mattered. They didn’t need heroic video or over-the-top propaganda. An invitation to Mecha Training Camp was one of the highest honors in the Universal Union, given across both civilian and military ranks. In the words of Union Congressperson Tomita, it was for the “most exceptional individuals, so we may build the most irresistible force.” Application to Mecha Corps began with an agreement to allow possibly decades-long surveillance and auditing of academic, military, or business records. From there, only a small percentage of candidates were chosen.

  Matt stood up and shuffled back to the other side of the lock. He had a shuttle to catch and Mecha to learn. And he had the best reason in the universe to do it.

  As Matt reached for the hatch, the air lock opened. Inside stood a figure wearing a crisp blue space suit. Across his chest, stark white letters read SECURITY. The man’s black utility belt held a stun stick, handcuffs, and a bright orange Spazer gun.

  Matt’s stomach lurched, and he had time for one clear, resounding thought: I am in deep shit.

  Then he saw the officer’s face. His eyes were wide and darting with fear, his jaw set in a grim line. White-blond hair only partially hid a rash of acne on his forehead. He wasn’t much more than high school aged.

  They sent the new kid, Matt thought. But that was dumb. Scared people did stupid things.

  As if reading his thoughts, the guard leapt at Matt. The kid came at him like a linebacker going full bore at a quarterback, but one important thing was missing: gravity. And this kid had just jumped hard enough to escape the UUS Mercury’s microgravity.

  Matt saw the perfect chance to dodge his misfortune. All he had to do was step out of the way of the security officer, slip back in through the air lock, and get on his shuttle. It wasn’t his fault the kid had decided to take a flying leap.