Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Volume 2: Chapter 1

Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Volume 2: Chapter 1

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Word count: 2500

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You’d think leading the vanguard of a fleet meant to set up a new Arcology would let me avoid politics for a year or two. Gathering data on territory wiped off of the map, fighting off bugs, bots, and squids with big guns, and commanding a spaceship with ludicrous amounts of guns should earn a guy some time away from politics and bullshit.

Nope.

I have to get dressed in an officer’s uniform, get a stupid amount of medals pinned to my chest made of real, heavy rare metals, and sit behind a desk. To what end? Mostly to just be present and look intimidating on the screen, but also to speak up at the right time to support Empress.

Now, I appreciate Empress.

She bought out my original contract with my employer, got me into fun missions and operations, and shielded me from a whole lot of bullshit while I finished up school. When I started struggling with higher-order subjects, she cut through a lot of bullshit, strapped some sci-fi augments into my brain, and gave me the know-how that I needed. Instead of having to deal with a stupid amount of politics, I was able to just go to class, train, and fight monsters on the weekends.

A nice and cozy life with accolades that allowed me to get my own ship, my own command, and still get to go out there and fight.

I owe her a lot.

But… I was sure that she liked getting me on her morning meetings just to irritate me.

Ma’am, I can be out there planning in a snow biome with lasers against ancient forms of bugs that are waking up from hibernation. We’re talking about history book bugs who actually have armor, who still spray acid, and operate in packs instead of swarms. They have entirely different tactics, use different weapons, and literally pop up from the snow while roaring.

Do you know how satisfying it is to shoot them mid-roar with a heavy laser and just make them go pop?

I want to be out there popping giant bugs with lasers.

Not behind a desk in a meeettttinnnngggggg….

“Your coffee, sir.”

“Thanks, Cina.” Cina came in clutch as always. Years of interacting with me and taking care of me didn’t change her on the outside at all. Being a cyborg made from a corpse came with the remaining biological parts getting heavily augmented and genetically re-engineered without limitation. Made immortal into a blonde, buxom maid. I think more than a few people would sign up for that after their death. Personally, I wouldn’t. Stuff my brain into a jar and put me in a giant robot, please. What do you mean that’s worse? “Perfect.”

“Of course, sir.” I’ve given up on having her not call me sir. After all these years, she still insisted. Every time I received a promotion, I’d have to complain until she dialed it back to just ‘sir.’ Hearing ‘lord admiral’ more than a dozen times a day had been a headache. “Would you like a light meal? —

Cina was cut off by my favorite sound.

A shrill, siren-like beep that resounded twice was followed by a voice.

“Incoming anti-air artillery. Countermeasures firing.” I got out of the meeting with a flick of my wrist, got up from my table, chugged my coffee down, and started taking my uniform off. One good thing about having so many layers was that I could just have my piloting suit’s base layer underneath it. “All hands to stations. Ablative armor at 100%. Defensive screens are optimal.”

“Give me the source of the attacks.” I said, and a screen came up from the collar of my neck. The integrated tech on the suit was mostly focused on keeping me alive. But with the small amount of extra space, I went ahead and got a few more screens. You can’t have too many screens. Ever. “Give me long-range thermal sensors.”

Usually, I’d go for orbital optical satellite imaging and scans. I’d also supplement them with high-altitude drones.

However, Empress didn’t just level this place from orbit and send an expedition here for a reason.

The sky was perpetually cloudy, and the winds raged at all times. The theory was that a superweapon designed to deny the area was deployed before humanity’s forces here fell. That was the only way to explain the perpetual blizzard and storm over the area. It was something Empress had a keen eye on retrieving, since this area effectively got avoided by everyone else.

I really hoped completing this new campaign would give me some cryo-beams or shells that exploded and froze enemies.

A bigger arsenal is always nice.

The feed came through as the ship rumbled around us, with dozens and dozens of point defenses shooting down whatever was coming our way.

The thermals came through after focusing and locating the enemy… and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Look at this, Cina. They’re ancient artillery bugs!” Our attackers were a couple dozen giant bugs the size of small ships. They were generating something from their abdomen and aiming it upward in the sky. I switched to a view on the point-defense grid and verified that their projectiles were living suicide bombers that came out in massive swarms. “These things shot down most of the world’s air force when they landed!”

The giant artillery bugs basically spawned swarms of explosive, flying insects that could track enemies, dodge simple attacks, and even coordinate. Living munitions that did everything in their power to collide with non-bugs and explode while covering what they hit with corrosive acid.

Not a big problem for modern air power, since we’re giant ships covered in point-defense weapons.

For the drone swarms led by stealth joint-strike craft?

Those explosive-acid swarms basically gave the bugs air dominance.

But today…

“They are not breaching the outermost layer of protection. They are being fooled by the holographic camouflage.” Cina stated simply, and my shoulders dropped. “It is unnecessary for you to join in battle against such a meager threat.”

“But Cinaaaa… I want to add some more ancient bugs to my kill tally!” I brought up my record screen. My statistics in this world had been tabulated from the moment I first entered the cockpit. Since I had the right to access it, I also had the right to arrange the data and have it displayed. What better way to show my achievements than to have every enemy type known to humanity as a kill? “We barely see any more acid bugs nowadays! The scientists will love having one of the purer strains at their disposal, right?”

Cina’s brow furrowed at my words, but she wordlessly made the right inquiries before sighing.

“A research institute has stated interest samples of the creature.” I pumped my fist and kept walking. The elevator straight to the hangar activated before I got there and rushed down. In but a few moments from my office, I was on a walkway that led straight to Gray Corpse. I wanted my office chair to be my piloting chair and just slide into my mech, but I would’ve needed a fully customized ship instead of one off the factory line. I’ll get a custom one that can do it later. One day, I’ll just be able to throw off my jacket and medals, push a button, and get sent into my mech. It’ll be sweet. “ A retrieval team of combat forms should suffice after bombardment.”

“Hah, we both know it’s cheaper for Gray Corpse to go down there than use up artillery shells and risk a transport.” I gave Cina a wave while entering the cockpit. The mech sealed up behind me with a hiss. Gone were the days where my mech smelled like person and machine parts. Now, my filters were the best in the business, my air conditioning kept things nice and fresh on entry, and everything was lightly lemon-scented. It’s the little things that make the ride that much better. Anyway, Cina popped up on the dedicated communications screen a moment later. Just an audio waveform with her name beneath it. “Open the hangar bay doors, Cina.”

Cina just sighed.

Not because she got the reference; human media didn’t exactly make it after centuries of technological progress, violence, and crisis.

The aliens and rogue AI didn’t help, either.

“Complying.” Once in the cockpit, I couldn’t help but forget about my worries… and smile as all systems activated and gained vision over Gray Corpse. As always, the 3rd-person perspective was the best way to appreciate my mech. A barely flight-capable bipedal mass of armor, sensors, boosters, and guns. Love ya to bits, Gray Corpse. “The mission parameters, Admiral?”

“Forty minutes. Destruction of all enemy forces in the immediate area.” I rattled off the parameters before going for a name. Snow and ancient bugs. “Call it Diamond Tomb.”

With that, I activated the launch rails and went from 0 to flight speed in less than a second.

Damn.

I really can’t get enough of fighting in giant robots.

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Interlude: Cina-140.

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Eight years of service, starting from twelve years old, and OS-549 has only ever displayed the emotion of happiness five times outside of his mech.

Three of those times were when presented with his now-favorite form of food. With the reclamation of enough land, agriculture was reintroduced to several areas. From the seed banks came groves of fruits, along with spices, and finally crops useful for both feeding the populace and for industry. Long-sealed recipes became available, and from those recipes came an ancient dessert. A yellow, vanilla-flavored cake covered in whipped cream and soaked in three more different kinds of dairy products.

OS-549 devoured more calories than ever before when first presented with the cake and has since enjoyed it with every birthday.

One other moment of joy unrelated to piloting his mech came with his release from servitude from House Hariss. After teaching an adequate amount of replacements, graduating from the Academy, and achieving a higher ranking of Knighthood, he was taken by the Empress and provided a new posting. Prior to understanding the requirements of his new position, he expressed glee and excitement at the thought of being able to traverse the world and destroy the foes of humanity under his own command.

That joy stagnated when he realized Empress would be making the most of her investment with him and that key figures were going to be staying on his ship for the foreseeable future.

The last moment of joy unaffiliated with waging war in a massive weapon system was recent.

Upon the discovery of ancient, different versions of the enemies of humanity, he squealed in delight and added possible creatures to kill on his electronic tally keeper. Instead of fearing the return of ancient foes that brought humanity low, that nearly consumed the whole planet, he felt only glee at new creatures to destroy.

I thought that his madness almost caught up to him.

I was wrong, and he proved that immediately after his launch.

“Wow, these guys have really, really shit armor.” I saw through his sensors and his data feeds. I may as well have been in the cockpit with him. Still, I could barely keep up. He was moving through the snow, throwing it up in numerous directions, and putting his engines to their limit. The massive war machine he used was considered a heavy combatant, which typically remained in the backline due to a lack of speed and a focus on carrying heavy artillery. With grace most would be unable to match, by manipulating well over a dozen controls, he nudged a corpse of a massive alien with only the tip of his machine’s foot. “Guess a couple centuries of firearms improvement caught them off guard.”

He walked with the massive machine. It had a human swagger. One arm is holding the weapon up against the ‘shoulder’ of the machine. The other is swinging idly and ready to fire from the hip. He moved the ‘head’ of the machine around and about with instinctual movements. Once a clerk had watched how he manipulated his machine and likened it to a pianist or typist. He didn’t look at his machine or controls. He merely made it do as he willed.

And he willed Gray Corpse to move like a human, despite the fact it was in truth multiple tons of armor, weapons, sensors, boosters, mechanical parts, and a fusion core.

“Hey, are you picking up any heat signatures? I was thinking that they’d have some sort of supportive force. To keep these guys alive… wait. Let me check something.” He caught the edge of one’s shell, then with the perfect amount of torque adjustments and then a swift movement, he flipped the massive creature over with the foot of his mech. Holstering his right-hand weapon, he stretched out the mechanical fingers of the mech and placed it against the abdomen of the creature. The tips of the fingers embedded into the flesh ever so slightly, then he dragged it across the creature’s stomach. Hundreds of pounds of actuated metals acted like a human hand whose fingertips ran across plastic lining. Some watching in the ops room forgot themselves and cursed. “Yeah, I figured. They ate their guards. Guess they took precedence, since they were artillery.”

He gave a hum and mimed touching an earpiece with his massive war machine in a completely unnecessary fashion.

His enjoyment was palpable through the communications line.

He knew he was being watched, and every move he made was being recorded and sent back to dozens of noble houses… and that simply made him all the happier to show off.

“This is the Admiral of the fleet speaking. Please copy. Over.”

I sighed and obliged.

More than a few individuals manning sensor suites and other stations around me looked at me with no small amount of pity.

We all played according to his rules, lest we find ourselves with a greater headache.

“This is Cina-140, your adjutant. We copy. Over.”

“All clear over here, Cina. Please ready a transport to bring me up. Over.”

“We copy. Stay secure at your current location. No need—” I sighed as he wrenched off a module from his mech, manipulated the module with giant metal digits rather than electronics, and fired off a flare high into the sky. He did that on purpose. The sensors suddenly chiming with readings of numerous heat signatures erupting from the ground confirmed my belief. He did it to pick a fight on extraction. “We will be there in five minutes, Lord Admiral. Over.”

“See ya in five, Cina! Over!”

He pressed the mute function on his cockpit and cut me and everyone else off.

As he was allowed to after the mission was completed, he merely had to wait for pickup.

Ninety percent of the maintenance fees and ammunition expenditure costs happened in those five minutes.