Chapter 2
The cockpit was silent. Outside, even in the thin atmosphere, he could hear the sounds of missiles exploding, proj flying, metal breaking and twisting and men dying. But without his console he couldn’t tell if it was his or theirs.
He blinked- he was just about conscious enough of his surroundings that he knew how much danger he was in. Looking around, he did the self-check he’d done so many times before. He could breathe, hands, feet responded. His harness in his command chair had likely saved his life yet again, and if he were to punch out he’d likely survive this battle. But- could he get the console working again? How was the battle going? Were they holding the big-C pattern, or getting pulled into a trap?
He looked around again, wondering why the front screen was showing the ground sideways?
That was when he realized: his mech had been hit hard enough to fall. He was the one sideways. Rising without more power wasn’t going to be an option; the only reason he could see in the cabin was because of the light of the sun outside, weak as it was, it was no more powerful than the moon back on his home of New Avalon.
He swallowed as a new wave of explosions rumbled the ground, followed by a *thud* of another mech hitting the ground as his own had.
Suddenly, a new sound screeched in his ears. Turning his head, he saw the metal wall of his cockpit-cabin turning red and then star-white as the blade of a laser-sword burst through, and began cutting a line roughly the length of a human being, all the better to walk through and end his life…
“What do you mean, Gareth?”
Gareth holstered his pistol, ignoring the foot-wide hole it had left in the floor a dozen feet away from Dallas’ head.
“I mean that I can violate even a direct order, if it appears to hurt the interests of the House of Morgan. Helps a soldier say ‘no’ to a superior who tells him to be part of a coup and shoot the head of House Morgan or something equally stupid. And- house Morgan is your family, still, I take it?” he reached down his flesh-and-blood hand to the still shaking young younger man.
“I haven’t disowned them,” Dallas said, taking his hand and rising.
“...And thus far I haven’t heard of your father disowning you. Granted, I hear nothing up here- another precaution against those who might try to bicker and dicker their way past me. A favorite way to do that in other places was to broadcast phony news reports to the men on guard duty, so they’d let uniformed thieves into restricted locations under pretense of it being wartime- but that’s irrelevant now. I, young Dallas, am going to accompany you in your theft of this ancestral mechanized warrior- your mech, the Galatine.”
Dallas blinked. “What did you just say?”
“You’ve managed to cajole your way up here, and the old boy hasn’t burned a power cell since you were soiling your diapers. A waste. You need to grow up, I need to be actually useful ad the mech deserves to be put back into service, even if that service only involves getting you off planet and on a journey that’ll help you grow up and be worthy of your family.”
A light beamed down on them and shifted as several aircars, flashing the red-white-blue pattern of the gendarmes came down for a soft landing. “Well, it seems the shot I fired, this time with the sensors on, has done its job. You now have to make a choice, young Dallas: was this a stunt to get someone’s attention, or do you actually intend to fly this contraption and take a step into the great unknown?”
“I was always planning on getting off this rock, Gareth. Though I was hoping to bring a different person with me.”
Gareth smiled. “You can tell me all about her- once we’ve gone.”
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“That’s fine, but- wait; did you say we? And how’d you know it was a her?”
Gereth swept his arm in an ‘after you’ gesture towards the door to the head of the Galatine. “I’m certain you’ve played a great deal in the sims, Dallas. You likely can lead your targets to slaughter with weapons ranging from ranged missiles to laser batteries to railguns. But do you know the first thing about a systems check? Docking protocol? How to negotiate a contract as a mercenary or how to examine an oath of fealty?”
Dallas shook his head as he walked through the door.
“Precisely. That is why I am going with you, Dallas. My oath says I need to put the interests of the House of Morgan above my own. Currently, if your father and brothers all died tragically, you’d ascend to the office of your father and be woefully inept. This excursion will make of you [strap yourself in, Dallas. Make sure your ankles are in the braces too; you’ll see why] a better candidate for office of the political, military, or overall ruling persuasion. And you wouldn’t last a day offworld without some kind of mentor who’ll put your best interests ahead of his own, something you’re about as likely to find out there as an ice cube at the heart of the sun.”
“Makes sense,” Dallas said, buckling the complicated set of straps that would, in theory, keep him safe in the event of a crash. “But how’d you As for how I knew this was all over a girl?”
“You’re twenty,” Gareth said, buckling himself in with a tone and demeanor that suggested nothing more need be said on the subject. “Anything else?”
“Are you ready to take off?”
“I’m glad you asked me that, Dallas. Gwen?” he said, apparently to the air.
“At your service, Mister Gareth,” said an efficient sounding voice.
“The Galatine has A.I.?” Dallas said.
“It was state-of-the-art when it was first christened,” Gareth said. “Everything else has just about caught up to it- much like Kai and his rather efficient gendarmes below. Gwen, we need to liftoff and rendezvous with a… Dallas, what kind of people were you going to interact with in order to bring you out of this system?”
“A private group I met on the network.”
“Ah, private. Yes. Gwen, we’re going to meet up in orbit with a jackal class ship. Could you get us there please?”
“Yes sir. Shall I call out the steps as we launch?”
“Please. This would be most instructional for young Dallas here. But could you speed it up? I believe we’re about to be either assaulted or otherwise have to withstand attempts to keep us from leaving.”
“Yes, Mister Gareth. Elevating blast shields- Mister Dallas, this will alert and give protection to those near our blast jets that they should get to cover or risk serious injury by incineration when we take off.”
“Very kind.”
“Igniting engines, Mister Gareth. Using scramble protocols to get us airborne in a timely fashion.”
“Good choice, Gwen.”
“Um, Gareth? How come th A.I. is obeying you?” Dallas asked, as the Galatine began to rumble throughout and beneath their feet.
“I’m still a ranking officer in your Pater’s army, Dallas. He was kind enough never to officially muster me out after I lost my arm, and I’ve been drawing officer’s pay ever since. Gwen? Next steps, please.”
“Certainly, Mister Gareth. Gentlemen, I read that you are strapped in, yes? Please hold on to the arms of your seats as we rise.”
Dallas had heard of this moment, read of it in the adventure novels he’d read about mech pilots in his youth.
The Launch.
His chair tipped back and he could just see the slowly brightening sky as dawn began her daily trip from the mountain range to where the sun would sink at day’s end in the desert. Mater had once mentioned how coveted this place would have been in the early colonization days of Old Earth, since planets that matched Old Earth’s time periods would have been almost as desirable as ones that matched its ambient temperature…
“Look up, lad,” Gareth said, “and don’t think about anything else. You only get one first launch in life, and you want it to be something you remember forever.”
Dallas didn’t answer, but did as he was told. There was one star visible, still, and he focused his eyes on it.
“Launch in three…two…one…liftoff…” Gwen’s calm voice continued throughout the cockpit. “...we have…liftoff…”
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To be Continued.....