Steel Steps

One step, two steps.

That's how it goes. Three steps, four steps.

I can feel the earth packing beneath its feet. Well, I can't literally feel it, but the way it sinks in, the sound of the soil pushing away, then compacting under the mechanical boots. It is difficult not to feel like Booster is an extension of me.

The drill Sergeant said, counter intuitively, that it isn't a good idea to imagine your mech as such.

“Makes you too careful” he would say, “You have to remember it is just a machine”

I can't do that. What's the point of riding a mech to battle if you don't get attached to it?

He knew it was a moot point, everyone gets fond of their mech. But I suppose caring for this enormous piece of battle-ready suit, and feeling like it's a part of you, are not the same thing.

Still, I enjoy piloting Booster this way.

One step, two steps.

The plains we're riding through are vast. An extended field of grass, buzzing insects and warm spring sunlight. Lieutenant Mack and Captain Lilia are ahead of me. She scans while they sing. And I guard the rear.

Mack is supposed to keep their weapons ready. Shoot first and ask questions never, but neither of us is expecting much action.

“Yo, Nere, you awake back there?”

“Yeah! Just, counting my steps”

“What? Afraid you'll lose them?”

We both laugh through our comms. Then I hear Captain Lilia sigh.

“Guns up and running, Mack”

“Yes sir, Lady, sir, ma'am”

They bring up their huge rocket launcher, then down, then up and down a couple of times while laughing.

“Take this seriously, will you? This is not a field trip”

“Course it is! It's the rookie's first foray into the wild! The uncharted and perhaps uncanny! Isn't that right, kid?”

“Not a kid”

There's no anger in my reply, in fact I feel welcomed by the team.

“That's the attitude”

“For once I agree, it's good you stand for yourself, corporal”

I can't help but feel a pang of pride at that. It's impossible not to look up to Captain Lilia “Hawkeye” Mustang.

“D’aw look at you being so sweet with the new recruit, Cap”

“Well unlike you, they don't give me a headache”

“Give me some time, I'll teach them”

The Captain groaned and we laughed. The warm spring breeze joined us.

One step, two steps.

The droning sound of the Captain's scanners filled the calm air around us. Usually you don't keep comms open at all times, but she did.

“So if I miss anything, anyone else in the team may notice”

On one hand it made sense. We all knew what each sound from the system meant. Hostiles, movement, sudden changes in weather, unexpected developments on the terrain. Each a different ping on a different tone, like a boring melody we had to memorize.

But no one wanted the hassle of your teammates constantly telling you they heard something. Confusing a sound from their own HUDs or the outside from your own. She clearly had a lot of trust in us, to not bother her all the time. Or a lot of patience.

“Do you think we'll find giant lizards or slugs?”

“Mack…”

“You're right cap, this place isn't humid enough for either. How about a giant beetle?”

The Captain groaned again. Patience, then.

Three steps, four steps.

I was getting used to it.

Five steps, six steps.

“Stand your ground, there's something in the radar”

“Yeah I was gonna say-”

Then light, and a high pitch buzz, ringing in my ears. I can barely feel my body. It isn't numb, more like tingling all over.

If someone else had described it I would have found it funny, but to feel your arm tingling as you steady, reaching for the controls, knocking things away in your cockpit. Well it doesn't feel funny to me.

Then a loud thud and an explosion. As I recover I realize we're under fire. I should have been a mulch of flesh and blood inside a pile of burning metal. But the captain had deployed her shields covering us all three, right on time.

“Kid, wake up, tell me that didn't melt your brain”

“I…I'm here”

I grip my controls, hands already sweating.

“What happened?”

“We're under attack, corporal. Pull out your guns”

As my body begins to acclimate I follow the familiar motions of training. Bring out my rifle, ready my blade, stand my ground, eyes on the enemy.

And what an enemy it is. Our mechs are around six to seven meters tall tops. Mack's the tallest, which is why it reads “Rainer” on the side.

But the enemy is huge. A ten meters tall tank with eight legs, a solid main body protected with thick plating and a cannon that spews powerful artillery on us. It has smaller guns on its sides, shooting turrets and whatever explosive it used to catch us off guard.

“Thank the winds for the Captain's reflexes huh?”

“I couldn't agree more”

“Less talking more shooting, Mack”

“Aye aye”

In a quick, practiced motion they move the barrel of their gun to the perfect angle. Its payload curves over the Captain's shield and drops on the tank.

The enemy of course jumps away, those flexible legs allowing it easy maneuverability.

“How can it be so agile with such a big gun?”

“Keep it busy, make sure it can't shoot back”

At that moment I understood how the captain and Mack worked so well together. She keeps him safe from enemy fire, he rains bombs on them. If that didn't do it, it gave her time to analyze the situation and come up with something.

“Nere, its your turn”

I tense up, feeling a heavy pit at the bottom of my stomach, and a sour taste in my mouth.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Dance around it. Find its weak spots. Don't stay idle, and always shoot to kill”

“Aye, Captain”

One step, two steps.

I ready myself to jump out of the shields and into the fray.

“Share your visuals with me, I want eyes on it”

“Aye”

A deep breath as I obeyed her orders, a step behind ready to boost.

“Knock em dead, kid”

“Not a kid”

I can't see it, but I'm sure Mack is smiling.

The feeling that comes over me as I boost is amazing. There's a reason I named my mech so.

The HUD glows green, the engine goes all in. The metallic chassis shakes as the boosters send me flying. An explosion of energy, controlled, engineered to move a whole frame of metal, cable and plastics in one direction without taking control away from my hands.

I may not feel the wind, but the rush of excitement is what I live for. A whole machine surrounding me, going so fast it could crash through a building, then comfortably stopping. The world around me becomes a blur and my blood pumps just as fast, filling me with glee.

I stop not too far from my target, and the view is incredible. A whole field with nothing but grass, and a big eight legged tank blasting it to pieces.

The sky is clear and so is my mind.

I rush forward, hearing the Captain yelling at me.

“Don't go at it!”

“Wait cap, I think the kid knows-”

“Not a kid”

I see it coming before the pilot even pulls the trigger. It's the obvious move, shoot at the idiot rushing towards the barrel of your cannon.

The same idiot that is now dodging to the side, clearing free from the shot and hitting the joints of the tank’s legs with a barrage of bullets, while the cannon has to cool down.

“Ha, smart kid”

“Not a kid”

I blush, hearing the Captain say that.

My strategy works. Of course they would keep the joints well protected behind armor plating. But both the enemy and I know they can't keep it hidden for long. So now it's a game.

I dance around out of their reach, jump or scuttle about. I'm looking for a better position while hearing the chorus of explosions from Mack's bombs.

“You gotta keep your ears peeled, kid” he would say, then continue after I corrected them, “You gotta hear when I shout or shoot, don't wanna bomb you to pieces while you boost around”

Now I understand how they and the captain manage to find such a rhythm together. After jumping back twice they shoot in front of me. I use the kicked up dust to cover my boost in a different direction, then keep shooting.

The tank uses its smaller guns to try and get 

me. So Mack drops a bomb right behind, destabilizing it. Eventually one of its legs gives in, although I'm not sure if it's Mack or myself who did it.

“Keep going you two, until it's just a heap of scrap”

The Captain keeps the shields and the scanner up, shouting commands at us.

“The plating behind that leg is gone, shoot at it. It's jumping into that mound of mud, drop a bomb there. Its gonna crawl to the east, wait until it moves ten meters then aim at the front legs”

It's not just that she sees it, she foresees it. Every piece of information the enemy gives away she turns into an accurate prediction.

If it jumps back, she knows where it will dash after. If it shoots at me as I boost she has Mack take one of its legs. She tells me where and when to hop, or trusts me to make the choice and reacts accordingly. Like her eyes are looking at the battle from above.

It feels good to belong. To feel like I'm becoming part of the team. And yet…

“Captain we can't keep this going forever, I'm running out of ammo, and so is the kid”

“Not a kid, and I have a sword”

My trusty vibro blade, perfect for close quarters combat, so no one sees it coming when I draw it out, already in their danger zone.

“Keep it sheathed, Nere. In a war of attrition this thing has us beat. But that's not the plan”

I swear I hear her grinning.

“Then what is the plan, cap?”

“It's-Nere, lookout!”

I don't know how, but that thing managed to get close. No, I know how. By doing the opposite of what it had done so far. Instead of jumping or crawling away, it used whatever legs it still had working to dash towards me.

Of course I could dodge its guns, but dodging a whole tank was another thing entirely.

I jump backwards, ready to boost away when it hits Booster full force with one of its legs. Then I'm reminded that while they may look like spider legs, they are heavier than a car.

Booster and I roll on the ground, kicking dust and grass on the floor. I bump around my cockpit, saved from the worst of it by its patented comfortable, safe design. Blessed cushions.

It still hurts like hell though. And my stuff goes flying, hitting the ways and myself. Note to self, in the future keep everything in your sealed pockets when out looking for a mech fight.

My hands haven't pulled the controls up yet and I see that thing point its cannon to me. “Predictable” I thought, and I'm about to boost through one of its legs.

It's probably what the pilot thought about me too, because when I try to, one of its guns opens fire. Now I know how it caught us by surprise.

It releases a burst of light and sound that hits my senses like a train. I hit it with the full weight of my mech, dashing into it. I'm so scared to have damaged Booster I can't react in time to that motherfucker raising one of its legs to impale me to the ground.

By the grace of the earth it was one of the weakened ones, so it only pins me to the earth, which is about the only thing I can tell given that my mind, body and systems are in shock.

The shouting of Mack through the comms doesn't help, but rationally I know that if I don't do anything, I'm dying here.

“Kid…you gotta…stop…”

Either I’m processing they're words very slowly or they're repeating them.

The sound of gunfire is far too close for comfort. As my mind pieces itself back together, I realize its shooting at close range, which isn't good for the Tank’s design.

The turrets on its sides are made to tear at incoming enemies, not one pinned to the ground and so close to it.

But it is only a matter of time for the crawling tank to find a better way to turn me to pieces, so I hold on to the two things I know are in my control.

My blade, and the target to cut.

The wonderful sound of cracking electricity running through alloy is music to my ears, as it is the sharp slash of it hitting a leg. Vibrating faster than the human eye can register the blade cuts through it like butter. Spars fly around as do pieces of broken, melted metal. The tank’s other legs creak as it falls to the side trying to support itself, releasing me.

“Damn, kid, how did you know where to hit?”

“Practice. Also, not a-”

“Corporal, roll!”

The Captain's voice is far colder and more serious than before. I would have obeyed regardless, it's just odd to me.

Unfortunately I roll right into another one of the tank's legs. Fortunately, that’s irrelevant.

“Mack!”

For the first time so far my comrade acts like a good soldier, immediately following the Captain's orders, which I imagine they discussed while I was in shock.

Their shot is precise, angled so it would come from above. But instead of hitting the tank or the nearby field, it detonates on top of it. Far too close to what could be called its “head”, an apparatus at the base of the cannon that likely functions as a viewfinder.

I see the metal arthropod tumble backwards trying to assess the situation and regain its footing. I don't let it.

Another slash, this time far more precise, cutting through the joint itself. I feel the crackling lighting all around the metal. I see the tank lose control and fall, if only for a moment. Booster turns, I turn. We see it struggling to get up again. I hold the blade up, ready to strike again. I feel my hands on the controls, Booster’s hands on the blade.

And then, a whisper. Like a leaf cutting through the wind, bringing silence to the plains.

The whole world is still. The air, the leaves in the distant trees, the grass around us. The tank, Booster, me. Everything is frozen in place. I don't know why, but I know something has changed.

The tank breaks down, all legs crumble, its body hits the ground. The legs curl like a spider that just died, its functions gone, taking away their steadiness. A bug made out of metal, cables and a broken hydraulic system, is still a bug.

If it wasn't for my own scanners I wouldn't be able to notice it. A bullet hole, clean through the chassis, taking the life of the pilot with it.

And the source of it is none other than Captain Hawkeye.

“Good work, corporal”

“That was amazing, captain!”

“Yeah, Lady Hawkeye never misses a shot…because she takes too damn long to do it!”

“Shush”

I giggle and stand up, running a scan on Booster to assess the damage. It is not until I see all systems green, with barely any scratches on my friend, that I notice I have a cut on my forehead. But it's not bleeding, and I have stim packs for it.

“Are you alright, Corporal?”

“Just a few bruises and bumps”

“Like a night of loving with the Mack themself”

I laugh and we fist bump, the loud clanking of metal against metal feels like a victorious fanfare.

“If you two are done, come help me inspect the damage and prepare the funeral rites”

We both nod, all jokes gone. Death is not a funny business.

In the academy or the training fields you’re taught everything about war. How to fight it, how to survive it. How to become a master tactician, that reads an ongoing battle like an open book, predicting the ending. How to be the sharpest shooter, taking down the enemy from kilometers away. The perfect spy, assassin, pilot, warrior. They teach you everything but the why. Why you’re fighting, why you’re killing. Why you're dying.

I did not kill the pilot, but my hands are stained with his blood regardless. We pull out his corpse. A kid, younger than me, hooked to the systems of his mech.

Its beautiful, to have such a deep connection to your friend. I would say I envy him, but I’m not so insane.

“You alright, kid?”

“Not a kid”

No other words will come out. It sickens me. I should be able to say more. A minute ago I was having the time of my life, when I couldn’t see the now pale face behind the controls. Would he be thinking the same about me, if the roles were reversed and he had killed me?

“Yeah, I never get used to it”

“Good, you shouldn’t”

The Captain sets the corpse down and has us pick up twigs and sticks from the trees far away. She knows what sorts of funerals his people have, because her mother comes from the same place. We stay in silence, Mack and I know this is not standard procedure, far from it. And it is taking away from our schedule.

But even if we were ordered to stop, we wouldn’t. There’s a reason this squad is so small, the same reason I was assigned to it.

“That’s enough, stay back, I’ll say a few words”

While the captain speaks I think. I think about pilot, about us. I think about what led to all of this. What led us here, led him here.

I come to a simple conclusion.

It doesn’t matter. It never does.

“Hey Mack”

“Hm?”

“You say you never get used to it. How…do you live with it?”

He chortles, like I said a funny joke. I suspect it is one he has said and heard many times.

“One step at a time, not-a-kid”

We smile together, amongst the scarred battlefield we came to fight and die on.

“One step”

 First story is here! I've been devouring Lancer books so I'm in a mecha streak. I wanted to focus more on the action but couldn't help myself and added some thoughts on war from an individual perspective by the end. Enjoy!