Mech 4: The Black Ship (Imperium Series Book 5) Read online

  Gersen examined each, shuffling ahead and making odd sounds in his throat. Black blood mixed with gray dust and formed a crust upon his sandals. His eyes searched every twisted, dead face he saw. The breezes coming up from the sea ruffled the dead, lifting their hair and coating their cheeks with dust. He recognized a few of them, but did not see Estelle.

  Behind him, the pod-walkers set up a tremendous din when they found the burnt field. When they reached the spaceship, they went mad. Wild, undulating hoots and howls rose up. The sounds were alien, like sea winds in a raging night storm. They attacked the struts and beat their crowns against the dark hull. They tore and scrabbled at what they viewed as a huge attacker, taking off chunks of shielding. They left sticky splotches of sap on every surface. They rushed through the open hatch when they found it, smashing down mech crewmen in the passages and running wild inside the ship itself. Their echoing cries warbled from deep within the craft.

  Incredibly, Gersen saw the entire ship sway slightly, such was the power of their collective fury. He felt a deep-seated pang of terror in his belly. Just such scenes had heralded the extinction of various colony settlements in the early days. What had he unleashed?

  He found Kerth strung up by a length of cord. Gersen realized after a moment of peering that the cord was from the man’s broken crossbow, which lay beneath his dangling feet. All of his crossbow bolts had been thrust into his body at a variety of angles. His left eye was dead and staring, while his right had been plucked loose. It sagged and drooped upon his cheek like an emptied bladder.

  Shuddering, Gersen wasn’t sure if he should advance further into the village. Who could have performed all these atrocities? Were the invaders better than the pod-walkers, or infinitely worse?

  Crouching and peering from the wreckage of a demolished dome, he watched as the walkers wreaked havoc upon the invading ship. Dozens ripped at the exterior, attempting to pull off chunks of the outer hull. Some, however, had wandered away from this task. They quickly found the wall and its absent gate. They bellowed for their brethren, and flooded into the village itself. They set about tearing down the domes nearest the entrance. Excitedly, they attacked everything they came near. The last standing structures were knocked flat and the dead were shredded before being cast aside.

  Gersen crept back further into the wreckage he’d found. He sensed the end of his life was near. If not from the walkers themselves, then from the invaders, who seemed hell-bent on killing every villager in the most gruesome fashion they could devise.

  He heard a new sound then, but it didn’t fill him with anything resembling hope. A group advanced from deeper within the village. Their footsteps sounded loud and numerous. There was an odd metallic ring to the steps, as if they wore metal suits.

  Gersen sought a better place to hide, and he soon crawled under a demolished water basin. There, he crouched and stared.

  Thirteen

  No one was more shocked than the Engineer when the mechs met up with the pod-walkers. Strange, alien creatures heaved and stomped, tearing up what remained of the village. The mech column, including sixteen Marines, two Sergeants, the Captain and the Engineer with his trailing Techs, all halted in surprise.

  They could scarcely believe their orbs. Beasts like walking three-legged trees were running amok. There were scores of them, and they were big. The largest were taller than the thirty-foot tall row of boulders that ringed this pathetic settlement. Suddenly, the Engineer understood why the natives had built their primitive fortifications.

  The Captain recovered faster than the rest of them. “First Squad, advance!” he roared. “Second Squad, encircle this position and lay down defensive fire!”

  The Marines surged ahead, following their Sergeants. They moved with bent knees and raised weapons. Their grippers spun as they adjusted nozzles and release-valve settings. Without instructions, they knew they would need both range and maximum output.

  At a range of fifty paces, a Sergeant roared: “Fire!” He was immediately obeyed. A blaze of plasma that resembled solid, glaringly bright light spun outward in a spiral pattern from the throat of every Marine’s weapon. The front rank of walkers was scorched and many of them burst into flame. The mech weapons were designed to destroy metal rather than cellulose; consequently the enemy was not stopped.

  The effect on the milling mob of monsters was astonishing. They’d been wandering in random directions like agitated ants searching for something to attack. Now, they’d been given purpose and direction. A tremendous collective roar of fresh howls shot up from every creature. They charged as if they possessed a single mind between the mass of them.

  The monsters moved with surprising rapidity and, although many were encased in flames, they showed not the slightest hint of fear. If they felt pain, it was clear the only effect of it was to goad them into a greater fury.

  “Close-assault configuration!” screamed First Squad’s Sergeant. “Fire at will!”

  The Marines again adjusted their weapons expertly, dialing for a broader spread of plasma. When they unleashed their lavender gushes of energy again, the enemy was almost upon them. Several of the monsters went down this time, overwhelmed by the searing heat that burned away their vines and blackened their bark. The majority, however, pressed forward despite the withering attacks.

  When the two lines crashed into one another, both sides reeled from the shock. Every mech Marine was a fierce combat system. Equipped with a thicker chassis than normal crewmembers, reinforced titanium limbs and even orbs that could not be broken with a sledgehammer, they did not succumb to any kind of assault easily. Each weighed more than a ton and stood a foot taller than a normal man. But when the pod-walkers charged into them, they went down like a row of sticks. It was a simple matter of mass and weight ratios. Each walker was three times as tall and had six times the weight of a mech. As most of the walkers were on fire and their vines had been burned away, they did not try to grapple. Instead, they knocked the mechs down and stomped on them. Huge flat feet drove downward like wooden mallets.

  The mechs continued struggling from the ground. They released gush after gush of brilliant plasma up at their raging attackers. Overwhelmed, many pod-walkers thrashed and died. Their legs were cut from under them, causing them to topple and fall onto one another.

  Mechs were crushed into the ground, hammered down like spikes. Their limbs broke, and their weapons misfired. Often, these accidents caused gruesome casualties. The mech weapons were more deadly to another mech than they were to the walkers. Numerous cases of fratricide occurred as mechs blindly unleashed gush after gush of blazing plasma.

  “Captain,” said the Engineer. “The First Tactical Squad is being defeated.”

  The Captain’s orbs blazed. “This is incredible! Where did these villagers get this army of trees?”

  “I believe they are an indigenous alien species—not trees.”

  The Captain gave a strange bark of laughter. “You have a substandard brain. As proof, you lack any sense of self-expression above the most literal. Of course they aren’t trees! They are vicious alien beasts. You are worse than useless Engineer, and I will disconnect you the moment this battle has been concluded.”

  “Captain,” began the Engineer, but the officer marched away from him.

  The Captain spoke to the Sergeant of the second Marine squadron. “Narrow your beam and fire low. Take out their legs at range. They will be helpless if they can’t maneuver.”

  “But sir, some of the First Squad might be hit.”

  “Follow your orders Sergeant, or be disconnected!”

  The Sergeant offered no more objections. He shouted orders, and his Marines advanced, firing steadily into the thrashing mass of mechs and walkers. Within a few minutes, most of the walkers had been disabled. It was a simple matter after that to destroy the crippled survivors.

  The Engineer watched with dismay. The Captain had indeed given appropriate orders. Using these new tactics, the pod-walkers would be quickly destroyed.
Unfortunately, that meant he was to be disconnected very soon and had only seconds left to live. He turned to his two Techs, and beckoned them to advance. Between them, they carried the metal box he’d been working on for days.

  The Captain ordered Second Squad to cease fire and advance into the heaving mass of bodies. They were to save every Marine from the First Squad that they could. Few survivors were found, however.

  The Engineer felt stressed. He did not think the Captain had made his threat as a joke. Neither was he likely to change his mind. As the Engineer fiddled with the controls on his metal box, the Captain strode back toward him. Repeatedly, the Engineer adjusted the settings and activated the machine. Nothing appeared to happen.

  “Engineer,” the Captain said. “Stand clear of that equipment. I do not wish to damage it.”

  “One moment, sir,” the Engineer said. “I think I have a new reading on the location of the enemy equipment. If you will give me a few minutes more—”

  The Captain chuckled, and raised his disconnection device. “Disobedient as well? This shall be my good deed for the day. Your removal from the crew—”

  The Captain broke off as the mech Marine Sergeant standing beside him stumbled. The Sergeant pitched forward on his face. The chassis was stiff and unresponsive, and his orbs were face down in the dust.

  “What’s wrong with him?” the Captain asked irritably. Frowning, he returned to his attention to the Engineer.

  The Engineer was now frantically adjusting his equipment and slapping at it with his grippers. The Captain’s artificial eyes spread wide. He lifted his disconnection wand and depressed the firing stud.

  The Engineer wanted to dive out of the way. But he knew it was pointless. His chassis had already received the signal, and three seconds from now it would be too late. He activated his makeshift device, and hoped the projector was aimed correctly this time.

  “Mutiny!” said the Captain, but already, the volume of his voice had shrunken to a whisper. There was no power in it. The arm holding the disconnection wand sagged, pointing toward the ground. He could no longer lift it.

  A moment later, the Captain crashed into the dust at the Engineer’s feet, disconnected. The Engineer’s metal box had finally operated as intended. It was a disconnection device, like any other. It was overly-large and primitive, but effective at short range nonetheless. The only improvement the Engineer had made to the original design was the removal of the three-second delay.

  “The Captain has suffered a malfunction,” the Engineer said calmly. He ordered the rest of the Marines to advance on the ship and remove the rampaging aliens. He picked up the Captain’s disconnection wand and waved it meaningfully at the other mechs. They all hastened to obey him.

  It was time to leave this vile planet.

  Fourteen

  As the Engineer marched at the rear of his Marines, Gersen found himself in the mech’s path. He’d been forced to exit his hiding spot due to the battle. He was now trapped between the pod-walkers on the far side of the wall and the advancing mechs. He calculated his odds of survival were higher if he faced the mechs, rather than the enraged pod-walkers. He decided to bluff it through.

  Accordingly, Gersen stood to one side of the broken gates. He kept his hands out, showing he was unarmed and doing nothing to impede the passing mechs. The mech Marines marched past him, advancing upon the pod-walkers that still thronged the ship. Using the Captain’s technique of burning away the enemy’s legs, the Marines pressed the walkers back steadily.

  They passed Gersen by, barely glancing at him with their flashing metallic orbs. They had no orders regarding him, so they ignored him after determining he wasn’t a credible threat.

  Gersen grew bolder as the Engineer approached. He dared to ask a question. “You are leaving?”

  The Engineer glanced at him. For a moment, it seemed he would march by like the rest of them, but then he hesitated. The two Techs behind him shuffled their clanking feet uneasily.

  “Yes,” the Engineer said to Gersen.

  “But why did you come? Why did you burn our village and torture our people? Was this all for nothing?”

  “We sought what you do not have. We require technology to repair our ship. Unfortunately, you have nothing worthy of the name.”

  The mechs turned to go, but Gersen dared to step closer. Two nearby Marines reacted, rotating their thoraxes suddenly and redirecting their projectors. The Engineer stopped too, and turned his orbs toward the thin, heavily-scarred man.

  “We have something to trade,” Gersen said. “You may find it useful.”

  “Give it to us.”

  “I will, if you will give me one of your weapons. One pack, and one plasma projector.”

  The Engineer stepped forward. He lifted a single gripper. The mandibles opened and closed once in what was clearly a threatening gesture. “You will be persuaded.”

  “No,” Gersen said. “Look around you, none of my people can be persuaded. It would be simpler and faster to trade.”

  The Engineer appeared to think it over. “If the item is as you say, I will trade.”

  Gersen led the clanking mechs to the dome Bolivar had shown him. Inside, there was the spherical tank that showed past events. They passed by this artifact, with the Engineer showing little interest.

  “I do not want your bulky display device.”

  “Of course not. But you might be able to use the generator that operates it.”

  Gersen revealed the system at the base of the display device. He’d noticed it before when witnessing Bolivar’s little show. The generator was far larger and more powerful than what was required to operate the display system. Like using a jet engine to power a bicycle, the power supply was overkill. It had been removed from a starship and set here for this comparatively minor task.

  The Engineer examined the unit. “This is an ancient system—but very powerful. We have nothing like it in the archives of Talos.”

  “It was built on Old Earth. Do we have a deal?”

  The Engineer ordered a Marine to give the man his weapon and pack. As a precaution, he removed the power cable that connected the generator to the projector. Gersen didn’t argue, calculating they could fashion a replacement later.

  The mechs took the massive generator away and left Faust, without discussing the matter further. Gersen watched them mount the ramp and enter the black, triangular mouth of their ship. He was glad to see them go.

  Fifteen

  Bolivar had only three fingers and a thumb left on his remaining hand, but he had survived. After he’d passed out from pain, the mechs had dropped him into the dirt and moved on to livelier prey. He still managed to smile crookedly when he heard Gersen’s tale.

  “You were able to reason with the mechanical invaders when the rest of us failed,” Bolivar said. “You drove them from our village and, for this, we are grateful.”

  Gersen opened his mouth, thinking to correct Bolivar on the details. But then he thought of the way these people had treated him in the past. He shrugged, nodded, and stayed quiet. He did not think of himself as a hero—but he was willing to play the part.

  “We will change the laws, as they failed to protect us today,” Bolivar said with a thick tongue and slurring voice.

  The rest of the villagers huddled around them. Estelle was among them, and Gersen was glad to see she was relatively undamaged. Even her hands were intact.

  The villagers were dirty, their faces streaked with sweat and tears. Less than half their number had survived the day. Bolivar’s single remaining hand shook, as he removed his silver whistle. He presented it to Gersen.

  “Will you give us new laws, to protect us from new threats?”

  Gersen squinted at the whistle which flashed crimson in the sunlight. He took a moment to look beyond the throng—past the broken gate, the burnt field and the smoldering piles of dead. He saw the shining sea on the horizon. He knew he could leave this place and never come back. He also knew he would never forget thi
s strange village, no matter how far he traveled.

  He turned back to Bolivar, Estelle and the others. He took the whistle, lifting it high overhead so they could see it spin and shine.

  “I will stay,” he said.

  He then continued to speak, suggesting new rules by which the villagers would live their lives in the future. When the sun began to set, turning the western sea to blood, he’d finished his simple set of rules to live by, rules that allowed for experimentation, exploration and technological development.

  On Faust, due to the high speed of planetary rotation, the sunsets were brief. When darkness overcame them, Gersen saw the gleaming streak in the sky again. The mech ship accelerated away from his world. He hoped to never see them return.

  The End

  From the Author: Thanks Reader! I hope you enjoyed THE BLACK SHIP. If you liked the Mech Books and want to read more stories in this universe, please put up some stars and a review. Let me know what kind of world you’d like to discover next! If you’d rather read Undying Mercenaries, don’t worry, the next one is coming out soon.

  -BVL

  More SF Books by B. V. Larson:

  Imperium Series:

  Mech Zero: The Dominant (Novella)

  Mech 1: The Parent

  Mech 2: The Savant

  Mech 3: The Empress

  Mech 4: The Black Ship (Novella)

  Lost Colonies Trilogy:

  Battle Cruiser

  Dreadnought

  Star Carrier

  The Undying Mercenaries Series:

  Steel World

  Dust World

  Tech World

  Machine World

  Death World

  Home World

  Rogue World

  Rebel Fleet Series:

  Rebel Fleet

  Orion Fleet

  Alpha Fleet