Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Chapter 15

Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Chapter 15

…

Wordcount: 2500

…

And, instead of being sent off to war, it’s back to school.

It wasn’t back to normal, though.

Pretty much everyone figured out who the pilot was in the broadcast, and I had the usual clique waiting for me at my desk.

“Good morning, is there something that I can assist you with, Lady Remington?” Ryleigh Remington looked as prim and proper as always in the modest uniforms worn in the school. Skirt just past the knee, white leggings, and a blouse with a jacket. Gunmetal gray, but the quality of everything was high-end. If you took one piece of the uniform, and sold it off back in my old life, I’d bet the jacket alone would be like five hundred dollars or something stupid like that. Everything just screamed high-quality and designer. All the while people are starving and are in debt for being born. Fun. “If you wish to inquire for training opportunities, I must refer you to Lady Hariss for operational opportunities.”

I gestured towards Cina-140, who bowed towards Lady Remington, and prepared to open a line.

“That will be unnecessary. I am here to negotiate with you to gain you as a contact for House Remington. This is a gift.” Straight and to the point, just what I’d expect from the only student in the academy to challenge me to a straight up duel. Another point in her favor was that she didn’t complain after her loss. I wouldn’t be able to handle the loss like she did, if I lost in a simulation with the same machine that she’d been running while I faced off against mine. I’m petty, though. “House Remington’s latest Mech submachine gun.”

Ooh, this girl’s learned how to speak my language.

New toys are always welcome.

“Tell me more.”

“It is a heavy submachine gun designed for prolonged assaults with modest armor piercing capability and a high-capacity, dual drum magazine.” Ryleigh took a seat on an arm of my desk chair and accessed my desk’s interface. Thanks to being almost half-a-decade away from puberty, having her skirt-clad rear so close to my face basically elicited no response. Multiple years of combat and having a paste for food have probably led to a severe delay in any sort of lust-like response. I was more interested in the massive gun I was being offered. It was a solid block with a snub barrel at the end with double-barrel at the end… with a pistol grip. It looked absurd and I wanted it. “We are also developing additional forms of ammunition.”

“An all-rounder weapon, then.” I could see the appeal. Specialization for enemies is great, but there’s always something to be said about an average gun with decent damage and an okay fire rate that didn’t weigh much. However, I spotted something even more exceptional to the weapon in question. “Oh? It’s a real sidearm.”

It had its own latching mechanism onto armor, meaning that the weapon in question could be a real secondary weapon. The only way to get extra weapons to wield in a mech’s arms is to get rid of shoulder-mounted weapons and put apertures on there that’ll switch out what you’re carrying and give you what you’ve got on your back. Some people like it, and I can see the versatility, but I always think it’s better to just have shoulder-mounted weapons systems.

It means you can shoot four kinds of guns at the same time, instead of having to juggle switching them around and doing weird shit.

“One that can be remotely operated. Observe.” I gave a whistle as the weapon was attached to the ‘side calf’ of a mech. It proceeded to fire at the direction of where the leg was pointing. Streaks of shells in the light artillery range flowed out of the gun and broke through a block of concrete about the size of an apartment building. “As you can see, it’s a very potent weapon that you can have multitudes of on your assault walker. They are also robust enough to be discarded and recovered after their ammunition is expended.”

Don’t bring more ammo.

Bring more gun.

Possibly with different ammunition types for different opponents.

Very neat… but there was an issue.

“Wireless transmission? Any way to remove that? The risks outweigh the benefits.” The squids were ahead of us in terms of tech, and the robots were literally led by AI with supercomputers the size of skyscrapers for processors. With how fast the bugs were evolving, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started churning out some sort of bug that can mess with signals sooner rather than later. There are already bugs that use their brains to blast people with psychic powers. It’s just a matter of time. “I’d rather just have one as a sidearm. Unless you can make the remote-operation analog.”

Some people would say that having cabling strapping a weapon to your mech looks ugly.

I think having a mech covered in scrap armor, jury-rigged weapons, and ragged cape looks dope as hell. Bonus points if there’s a giant scrap-metal buster sword on its back and half the mech’s face is just sensors. Man, I’d do that, if not for the fact that Frankenstein-mechs are unbalanced, unwieldy, and get people killed. I’m a good pilot. I’d even say I’m great. But I don’t have the lives to spare to go face all my enemies in a shitty mech, no matter how cool it looks.

But back to House Remington’s offer.

“That can be arranged. Weapon interface ports will be needed to be added and there are a limited number of locations where they can be placed on a mech, but it is possible.” Ryleigh nodded. Her eyes locked onto me. “I take it that this is enough to consider you a contact? I understand that your worth as a combat and training asset is to be determined by House Harris.”

“I think that this is worth a couple of calls and some advice. Cina-140, can you give Lady Ryleigh my contact information, please?” Cina-140 bowed and obliged. She didn’t give it to the noblewoman directly. She gave it to one of the members of her retinue, who confirmed the transfer to Lady Ryleigh. Seriously, these people have personal assistants to manage sharing contact details? “If you have something to ask before class, I’ll be happy to answer, if I can.”

I gave Ryleigh a smile.

A smile that made it clear that I won’t be answering if she asked for something outrageous.

To her credit, she didn’t hesitate.

Probably thanks to being educated and trained better since birth than most of the starving, indebted populace.

So, really, there’s no credit to be given.

“What do you feel is the most important factor in becoming a pilot such as yourself?” Ryleigh worded the question like a champ. If she asked me just for the most important factor of being a pilot, I could’ve called that a secret that I couldn’t share. Instead, the statuesque, genetically-engineered blonde asked me for my opinion. Something that I can share and thought despite limitations. “I believe that your mindset is key to improving my own skills in piloting.”

Well, since she’s being so honest, I’ll oblige.

…

Interlude: Ryleigh of House Remington, Aspirant Savior of Earth

…

“Kill. Don’t stop killing. Kill until you look at a battlefield and know only how much it costs to kill everything there in a glance.” The twelve-year-old Operating System met my gaze as he gave an earnest answer to my question. There was nothing but mirth and amusement in his eyes. The satisfaction of sharing an answer that he truly believed in. “I believe that you have access to my records?”

“I do.” Thirty thousand confirmed kills of higher caste Elarans. An average of five lesser strains killed for each higher caste kill. Five thousand confirmed Warrior Seidan kills. Average two Psionic Drones destroyed for each kill. Eight hundred total aberrant intelligences destroyed beyond recovery in medium or heavy chassis. Three lesser warforms estimated killed for each. In his twelve years, ever since he was placed in his piloting chair, he has been killing hundreds of enemies daily without stopping for years. “I’m afraid that I do not have the luxury of time.”

Others were listening in on our conversation. If he noticed, he said nothing and made no signal. There was no one else speaking in the class. There were only people listening to his words. Everyone here knew that this Operating System, this Knight, exceeded us.

All of here are the fruits of labor of whole noble houses. Our genetic lineages have been carefully crafted. Half the Empress herself, and the other half a conglomeration of the finest traits that our houses valued from the greatest of our lines. Through us, our family’s made bids towards reconquering the planet, towards a future where we were beholden to no one besides ourselves, and where we could rule over more than just mere districts in Arcologies.

Each of us are meant to match the Empress, so that we can rise beyond her influence, and forge our own destinies.

Yet this child barely about to reach thirteen is beyond us.

“Fight harder battles. Look for operations where you know there’ll be more opponents. You can learn faster.” His distaste for everyone in the Academy was apparent. He stared at our luxuries and talent and influence and was barely able to hide his distaste. We had everything that he never had. For mere survival, he risked his life every passing moment since he was sold as an OS. There was no lost love for us in his heart. In fact, it was fortunate that he felt no hate or will to tear us down. “Swap in and out of mechs between missions. One can be repaired, while you fight with a new one. How about you team up with some people? Just keep watch over one another.”

His words made many look to those around them.

How many of us could entrust one another with our backs and our flanks in battle? Nearly all of us here competed with one another. We saw each other as rivals. We squabbled and fought amongst one another, trying to outdo one another, as we all knew the threat each of us posed. There were only so many viable places on the planet to place an Arcology. Fewer still were set to be prosperous, and not just bulwarks against the enemy.

The best of us will rule over true nations.

The middling will be generals of fortress cities dependent on others for their survival.

The worst will be rendered meaningless and no better than mere nobility.

With all the funds and resources poured into us from even before our conceptions, a few of our number would consider death a better alternative.

Thus, we did not trust one another.

Thus, we could not rely on one another.

Thus, we could not reach the same heights as this one boy born from mere laborers did.

If we did not work together.

Thankfully, I had someone who I could trust.

“Priscilla will stand by my side as an able ally and equal.” I spoke and I felt dozens of gazes on me, while a reassuring presence came by my side. Priscilla was there, in the corner of my vision, satisfaction pouring from her as she bathed in the surprise of all our sisters. “Do you think I have need of another, or a will a pair suffice?”

I asked the question without thought, without preamble, and more to laud myself and my ally before my peers for being able to trust one another.

Instead, OS-549’s gaze suddenly sent a shiver of dread down my spine.

Instead of a pilot twelve years of age, sitting in a school desk, I felt as though was across Empress. No. He was lesser than her by an order of magnitude, but he was within striking distance.

I knew what he was doing. I became very aware of the fact that his approach towards our last duel was perfect. That he acted knowing the full specifications of my vehicle. That could only mean that he knew my worth and measure, and that he reacted to me as he would a perfectly known threat.

And, of course, that I was not alone in his analysis.

Priscilla and all the others with armored walkers were all surely analyzed by him already.

A razor-sharp mind, tens of thousands of hours of combat experience, and full knowledge of both our abilities and assets came together behind the suddenly-sharp gaze levelled my way.

I may as well have asked Empress if she thought me worthy of being a ruler, knowing full well that I would rather not hear the answer.

“You need a third. Ask Lady Harrington over there. You’re not rivals or anything. She’s specialized in long-range firepower, and her simulator scores are good. Work together and the three of you cover all ranges.” He gave a hum of thought, as though he didn’t tell me and Priscilla that we were not enough to live through the battles needed to reach him.  Nor did he hide his knowledge of our abilities and our classmates. His honesty was born from the simple fact that his words could not be denied. His experience spoke for itself. “If you can hire a Ranking Knight as a fourth, you can start on more difficult missions, then replace whoever they are for another classmate. After that, it’s just time and diligence. Doing the right thing every day.”

He levelled his gaze upon me after saying his piece, and the inklings of satisfaction flitted across his features for just a moment.

I had done my utmost to swallow my pride, to listen, and to hold no grudges at having my footing so utterly unmade.

If he were the Empress, that would be the last that would be said of the matter, but… it was not.

“Go north first. Everything cools down faster. Same payout, same number of enemies, but the environment is in your favor.” There was no lust for power. No desire to dominate, unlike myself and all my sisters. As his profile suggested, his sole, mad desire was to fight on the field of battle and find glory. “But most importantly… good luck and have fun!”

He laughed lightly, amused at his last phrase.

Some people scowled, allowing their pride to think he was mocking them.

The truth was more terrifying.

This boy truly found joy in battle, even when only fortune kept him alive.