Read United States of Japan Online
Authors: Peter Tieryas
United States of Japan (13 page)
“You agreed to the deal, right?” Ben confirmed. “Her life in exchange for her help.”
Akiko did not hide her hostility. “It’s as he said.”
Martha Washington laughed. “Very convincing,” she mocked her. “I don’t want my death sentence deterred. And I have no interest in helping either of you. I’d rather go back there. Cleaner death that way.”
“Let me put it a different way,” Ben said. “You’re our hostage. You don’t have a choice.”
“So I come along and you kill me the second you don’t need me, right?” Martha Washington stated out the terms.
“You’re right,” Akiko jumped in, gun arm itching to be raised. Ben was about to stand in her way when Akiko continued, “I would have killed you earlier, but Captain Ishimura thinks you can be of assistance. That buys you a little time and hope.”
“What good is hope?”
“You can hope we’ll screw up and you’ll have a small window where we’re distracted enough so you can make your escape.”
“Not much of a hope.”
“Better than getting your brain lobotomized.”
Akiko continued without them. Martha deliberated on it, then followed, though she was struggling to walk with her wounds.
Kujira was confounded and asked Martha Washington directly, “What did you do to them?”
“I stood up to the tyranny of the Empire and struck a blow for our cause,” she answered proudly.
“America is dead,” Kujira said. “Why waste your energy?”
“The spirit of America won’t die until the last of us are killed. And then it’ll live on as an ideal to resist the heresy of a man claiming to be a god. We believe all people are created equal and born with certain inalienable rights.”
“Weird,” Kujira noted.
“I know it seems weird to you. Your concept of the whole world is distorted, but you’re too young to know otherwise.”
“Mom told me you were all a bunch of fanatics who were nothing like the actual Americans.”
Martha guffawed. “The first Americans were rebels fighting the odds.”
“So are the last ones,” Kujira replied.
Martha Washington tugged at her chains, resenting the restraints.
12:12PM
Ben wasn’t confident his fabricated IDs would survive an authentication process and suggested Akiko and Kujira go ahead to scout the road, make sure there weren’t any more guards. Ben stayed behind to escort Martha Washington. It wasn’t a rigorous trek, but she stumbled climbing the hills. She refused his aid, insisting on walking on her own strength.
“I need a break,” she said.
“We don’t have time,” Ben replied.
“Then go without me.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“If the other GWs even suspected I helped you, you know what they’d do to me?”
“The same thing you did to Agent Tsukino?” Ben speculated.
“Worse,” Martha Washington said. “Even if I escaped, they’d never trust me. I wouldn’t trust me if I were them.”
Akiko marched towards them. “What’s taking so long?” she demanded.
Ben gestured towards Martha. “She needs a break.”
Akiko saw how exhausted Martha Washington appeared. “You have five minutes.” To Ben, “The road’s clear.”
“I should have killed you,” Martha Washington said, licking the blood off her lips.
Akiko turned around. “You should have. What stopped you?”
“Initially, your partner’s pathetic pleas for your life. You’d have been moved if you saw the way he begged me to let you live.”
Akiko looked to Ben for a denial, but he shrugged and said, “Sorry.”
“That wasn’t why I spared you,” Martha said. “It was after both your arms were eaten and you were about to go unconscious. You started talking to Jenna. Remember her? She only helped us because her nephew was part of our group. Her dream was to perform in the Compton Opera House and you couldn’t even give her that.”
“I don’t need to justify my actions to a traitor.”
Martha Washington grinned and there was something sinister in it that made Ben jump in and ask, “Where’s Kujira?”
“But that wasn’t it either,” Martha Washington continued. “It was when you started talking to your mother. Do you remember that?”
“No.”
“You apologized for your brother. What was it you said? Something about failing your responsibility. You–”
Akiko swung her gun arm into Martha Washington’s face.
Ben tried to stop her, but Akiko raised her cannon at him. “Get out of my face.”
“She’s baiting you.”
“So what?”
“Remember our agreement?”
“I’m giving you three seconds to step away.”
“She’s unarmed,” Ben said, scrounging for a defense. “You have to respect bushido.”
“Bushido has no place here.”
“Shut up!” Martha Washington yelled, spitting out blood. “Neither of you have any right to talk about honor. Your soldiers murdered my entire family while they slept. I got ten bullet holes in my body that night, one for each person that died. I used them to hunt each of their killers and I got them all. ‘I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.’”
“She wants to die,” Ben said. “You’re giving her what she wants.”
“I do want to die. But not as much as she does,” Martha Washington said, leering at Akiko. “You should have heard the way she was groveling for her brothe–”
Akiko fired her gun at Martha’s hand, burning the whole thing off, sinew and bones disintegrating. Martha howled in agony.
“Go wait with Kujira,” Akiko warned and the truculence in her command brooked no dissent.
Ben forced himself down the hill where Kujira was returning.
“Something happen?” he asked.
They heard more gun blasts, more screaming. Kujira was about to sprint towards them, but Ben stopped him.
“What the hell is going on?”
Ben explained in brief, summarizing their past.
“And you’re going to let it happen?” Kujira inquired.
“What would you do in her shoes? Besides, Martha Washington wants to die.”
“Why would anyone want to die?”
Ben sighed. “Death is her only way out.”
“No, it’s not,” Kujira said. “It’s just the easiest.”
“Death is never easy. Your mom used to say, honor is the only thing that separates us from animals.”
“So what?”
“This is Martha Washington’s way of trying to maintain her honor to her death.”
“Honor is just a word people use to feel good about themselves,” Kujira said.
Five gunshots echoed from behind them.
Akiko approached and said, “Let’s go.”
1:45PM
Kujira’s home was southwest of the Telereformer in a hidden cove. Akiko washed her gun by the beach.
“Why do you need to get to San Diego?” Kujira asked.
“Long story,” Ben said.
“You can tell me, old man.”
“I have to kill an older man.”
“What is with you two and killing?”
“I made a promise a long time ago to kill this man.”
“Is he a bad person?”
Ben shook his head. “Not any worse than the rest of us.”
“San Diego is guarded all around its perimeter.”
“That’s why I was hoping your mom could help. She was the best mecha pilot in the USJ and I know she has access to one.”
“You think she would have helped you, knowing that you were going to go kill a man?”
“I wish I’d have had a chance to ask her.”
Kujira took out his new portical and played some games on them. “What’s this one called
USA
?”
“Brand new game that tells the Pacific War from the American side, assuming they’d won.”
Kujira had already started playing it.
Ben left Kujira and went down to the beach. Akiko was scrubbing away the blood on her gun arm. The smell of salt wiped away everything else. The waves volleyed shells and pebbles towards the shore.
“Do you feel better?” Ben asked.
“Much,” Akiko replied.
“What are you going to do if we bring back Mutsuraga’s head and they don’t reinstate you?”
“I would accept my death if that is the Emperor’s will.”
“I know you would. But how do you know that’s what he wanted? We’ve never actually heard him directly.”
“Officers represent his will by proxy.”
“You’re too smart to believe that.”
“Even if I don’t, I follow the structure.”
“If you followed the structure, you would have been led to your death with those two Kempei agents.”
She was irked by his comment. “Do you have a point?”
“What you just did–”
“Was for myself. Not for the Emperor. Myself.”
“Martha Washington could have helped us.”
“She was never part of the plan to begin with. We proceed the way we were going to.”
“And all that stuff you said to me last night?”
“I meant it. But today is different. This is the woman who fed my arm to ants.”
“You executed one of them in the first place.”
“I was under orders. I didn’t want to kill Jenna!” Akiko stridently insisted. Ben was surprised she called Jenna by her name. “I told them it was a waste, that she could be rehabilitated. But the orders were absolute.”
“Even if her death was absolute, the way you killed her wasn’t.”
“Stop nagging me about details,” Akiko said dismissively.
“These aren’t details. You can’t control yourself.”
“I can. Like I said, this was a special exception.”
“And next time when our mission is at risk and there’s another special exception?”
“No one else fed me to ants.”
Ben sighed. “I can’t take you with me.”
“You think you have a choice?” she asked, in a menacing tone. “‘Oh, I don’t like the way she’s acting, so I’m going to leave her behind.’”
“Are you threatening me?” Ben asked back and his temper caught fire. “I’m sick and tired of your threats. You want to shoot me too? Go ahead.” He grabbed her gun arm. “Shoot!”
Akiko flung him away. “Back off, Ishimura.”
“I mean it. I’d rather die here than get shot in the back.”
“You know what that woman did to me.”
“There’s more at stake here than just you and me.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?” Ben asked.
“I do,” Akiko said intently.
Ben was about to reply when the ground shook and there was a loud mechanical screech. The tremors increased in strength and a geyser burst from the ocean. A head shaped like a mechanical jaguar formed in the water. Though water was sliding down its face, the shape was unmistakable. A
Korosu
class mecha – or was it one of the older Torturer class machines? Ben knew the older ones had more square chest plates, limited artillery in the arms, and did not have the laser cannons the Korosus had. They were more durable though and handled sea combat better. Regardless of class, if it wanted it could annihilate everyone on the beach in under a minute. Like most mechas, the shoulders and body were painted red to mimic samurai armor. They even had sheaths for their electrically charged swords which could cut buildings as if they were stalks of corn. The crew usually resided in the head, one-sided mirrors as eyes shielding the bridge. It walked up the shore and stopped when only its lower legs were underwater. There was a throbbing sound, the head scanning the beach from one end to the other.
On the chest of the mecha, a hatch popped open.
Kujira approached them. “The
Musasabi
,” he proudly stated.
“There’s a pilot on the island?” Ben asked.
“You’re looking at the world’s best mecha pilot,” Kujira boasted. “Do you think back in the USA, they really had it this good?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The game says the Americans lived with freedom, could think or say whatever they wanted without fear of being arrested or killed.”
“I think it’s a bit romanticized,” Ben said.
“Very romanticized,” Akiko added.
“If enough people believed in that world now, we can have it,” Kujira declared.
“Improbable,” Ben replied.
“Before the Empire conquered half of the world, people thought the same about their chances of winning,” Kujira said. “C’mon. I’ll show you aboard my baby.”
“You’re willing to take us?”
“My mom told me she owed you a debt from a long time ago.”
“That’s her debt, not yours,” Ben said.
“One and the same.”
“Not to me. You don’t owe me anything, Kujira. If you do this for me, I owe you.”
Kujira lifted up his new portical. “Just send me new games every year or so and that’ll be enough.” He ran into the ocean and climbed up the ladder into the mecha.
Akiko said to Ben, “A lot of people owe you debts.”
“I don’t keep count.”
“You really begged Martha Washington for my life?”
“If I did?”
“You’re an idiot.” Akiko tightened a lock on her gun arm. “You didn’t bring me along because we’re friends. You brought me because…” and she paused as she contemplated her words. “Because I can kill without hesitation or mercy. Let’s finish this so we can both either go our own ways or die trying.”
Ben’s instincts were conflicted.
“Do I really have to justify myself to you?” Akiko asked. “She left me alive to humiliate me.” She almost seemed penitent.
“No more threats,” Ben stipulated.
Akiko grunted her assent.
Ben marched towards the mecha. “The chances of us surviving San Diego are slim.”
“I know. Can he drive?”
“If he takes after his mother, yes.”
2:37PM
“The
Musasabi
is way more advanced than any of the mechas I rode in San Diego and this bridge is actually comfortable to be in,” Ben said.
“They’re all like this now,” Akiko said.
“You didn’t see the old pits with pipes everywhere and steam blasting in our faces,” Ben said.
The room was circular with Kujira at its center. Wires hooked into the muscles in his body, fine-tuned to match his nerve activity and amplify it. The stress of controlling the mecha took up so much of Kujira’s attention, his bridge crew of wheeled porticals handled most other activities including the regulatory systems and maintenance. They rolled about, though they had rotors if they needed to fly, making sure everything was in place. Ben and Akiko sat in chairs adjacent to the radar station. It was the general’s seat since it was a rare privilege for any officer to receive a mecha. The two chairs on either side were meant for aides. The
Musasabi
was in submersible mode, meaning it lay down horizontally in the water and became a boat with only the head rotating upwards to act as a submarine fin. Kujira was eating from a can of pineapples, resting while the portical circumnavigated the mecha through the ocean to San Diego.
“Good mecha pilots are always in demand in the USJ,” Akiko said to Kujira. “Why didn’t you join the military?”
“And be a lackey?” Kujira replied. “Kissing the asses of superiors for no credit? What’s the point?” He flung the can at the ground after he’d emptied it. The circular portical swept in and cleaned it up. “I’m my own boss out here and don’t have to toil away for idiots.”
“You’ve never been in the military. It’s very diffe–”
“My ma told me all the stories I need to know,” Kujira said with a snicker. “You think we haven’t made stops to the USJ? They’re always trying to replace us, first with homunculi, which were worthless. Then with cheaper pilots. We visited a base up in Vancouver, bunch of fresh recruits, thinking they could pilot mechas. Most slaved away so they could become auxiliary crewmembers at best. The mechas up there are cheaply made, worth nothing against a real fighter. Prissy officers in charge who only care about their own careers and don’t even give credit where it’s due. Everyone just takes the abuse; yes sir yes sir yes sir thank you sir. Ma told me I could go back anytime I wanted. I’d rather eat my own barf.” Kujira went back to controlling the mecha.
Akiko turned to Ben. “You agree with him?”
Ben shrugged. “Bureaucracy sucks.”
“You can either use it, or let it use you.”
“I wish I was a better user,” Ben replied. “Cadre gave his mom leeway because she was such a good pilot. She told everyone exactly what she thought.”
“What about you?”
“I kept my thoughts to myself,” Ben said.
“Maybe that’s why they didn’t take you seriously.”
“When I told my ranking officers what I really thought, it only got me into more trouble. You have better experiences with your commanding officers?”
“Even Tokko has bureaucracy and a ranking system based on seniority.” Akiko watched a circular portical speed by. “I didn’t like it. I was raised to believe only merit counted. My dad didn’t care about anyone’s background as long as they worked hard.”
“He doesn’t know you’re in Tokko either?”
“Both my parents think I work in a business associated with the army diplomatic corps.”
“Why do you hide it from them?”
Akiko’s eyes narrowed. “To protect them and to make sure they don’t worry about me.” Her reply was too quick to be convincing. “My father’s a strong believer in traditional bushido. He wakes up every morning and burns incense to the Emperor. He used to tell me stories at night about the Emperor’s divinity, how he was born from the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and desires peace for all of humanity. My dad would never understand how some aspects of bushido don’t work in a world like ours.” Akiko’s arms strained as she clutched the side of her seat and Ben could tell something was bothering her. “Do you think there’s any way you can check if they’re OK?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “Can you give me their names?”
Akiko provided the information. He did a couple checks before confirming, “They’re fine so far and I haven’t seen any chatter about them.”
She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
“If we succeed, you can return as a war hero and tell your parents what you really do.”
“If we fail, they’ll find out anyway in the worst way possible.”
“Is there anyone in the world we don’t have to lie to?”
Akiko thought for a second. “Ourselves.”
“Most people still do.”
“Most people still do,” she confirmed.
3:14PM
Ben thought about Mutsuraga and the past, contemplating the personal vendetta that had shaped the course of not just a few individuals, but a whole society. How many wars had been fought for personal jealousies? How many massacres a result of individual circumstance?
“Hey, old man. We’ll reach Coronado Island in ten minutes,” called Kujira, while chewing dried fruits in his mouth. Coronado Island was just west of San Diego. Kujira started eating a pair of uncooked hot dogs and asked, “You two hungry? These turkey dogs are good.”
Both Ben and Akiko assented. Ben found the sausage tasted like a rubbery boot that was still partly frozen.
“My grandfather loved these, fed them to me all the time, said they were good energy sources for piloting. I always wondered why they called them dogs when there isn’t any dog meat in them.”
“Your grandfather drove a mecha?” Ben asked.
“He piloted Zeroes in the Pacific War. Used to say when he’d go up in the air and see ’em American pilots, he’d know right away how good they were. Memorized the stars, told me you had to have eyes in the back of your head, and he even cut off the wood antennae on the plane so he’d gain an extra knot. I’ve made custom upgrades to my baby too and I usually know the level of a pilot as soon as I engage them. Ma and me used to spar off Catalina in the middle of the night.”
“Spar?”
“Mecha spars. There’s a bunch of older models stored at Catalina, tough as hell, built to last unlike those new pieces of shit. Some of her old pilot buddies would sail out and we’d have duels in the–”
The alarm suddenly went off and the mecha elevated quickly while simultaneously springing to its feet. They were close enough to shore that only half the body was submerged. Kujira was standing, all the wires hooked into his body humming. The navigational system corresponded to his direct motions and the transparent glass around him brought up the various scans and combat data.
“What’s going on?” Kujira demanded.
“Eight bogeys,” the portical answered in the artificially produced female voice of a senior Kujira. “Designation USJ.”
“Whoa. This is off the charts. What’s going on out here?” Kujira asked.
Ben stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t know they had such a strong security grid off the coast. It looks like there’s an army gathering on the perimeter and there’s battleships too. I’ve been up and down this coast hundreds of times and never seen this much heat.”
Neither had Ben.
“Who are you?” a voice blared on the communicator.
“Identify yourself,” Kujira demanded back.
“This is General Itoh from the 15th. This area is considered strictly off limits. Who are you with?”
Through the glass screen in the eyes, Ben could see four mechas rise from the water. Behind them, four more approached. They were surrounding the
Musasabi
in a pincer formation. In San Diego, the mechas had gone unchallenged other than the biomorphs, which were impossible to control. Even kamikaze attacks by the USJ were futile as the mechas’ thick armor plating made them impervious to anything but atomics. Seeing the goliath warriors striding to battle, Ben looked to Kujira. Akiko was staring at him too. Kujira showed no emotion and finished his hot dog.
“What you want me to do, old man?” he asked, food slobbering around his mouth.
“The 15th is Governor Ogasawara’s personal battalion, right?” Ben asked.
“I’ve heard of Itoh,” Akiko said. “She’s supposed to be one of the best mecha pilots.”
“We’ll find out real soon if she’s that good,” Kujira said.
“What are your options?” Ben asked.
“Fight or run. Actually, scrap that. If we try to run, they’ll destroy us.”
“We can’t fight eight mechas, can we?” Ben asked.
“Put your straps on,” Kujira ordered.
Ben and Akiko complied.
The
Musasabi
placed both its mechanical arms over its head, propping the elbows forward like a spear. It spun in place, then charged the four stalking from behind. Those four quickly moved out of the way. The
Musasabi
didn’t stop running, fleeing the eight. Taunting laughter rang over the communicator. “Have you no honor?” Itoh shouted, reveling in their act of cowardice.
The other mechas began pursuit.
“What are we doing?” Akiko asked.
“Running,” Ben answered.
“Don’t tell me this guy takes after your gaming strategy,” Akiko groaned.
The
Musasabi
bolted through the water. Kujira chortled and said, “Follow me follow me follow me follow me follow me.”
Gyrating stabilizers kept the bridge somewhat stable, though the dash through the ocean was rough on Ben who wasn’t used to the frenetic jolt of the motion, even with the belt on. An island lay directly ahead of them. It was a labyrinthine construct, metallic anomalies protruding in errant piercings. In some ways, it resembled random paint strokes welded together. The whimsical patterns were connected only by their impressive height, meant to hide a mecha within. The whole bridge reeked of the smell of burning fuel, the internal organs in combustion.
“What is that?” Ben asked.
“Susano base, designed as a testing grounds for mechas,” Kujira replied. “They checked locomotion and balance there. It was abandoned three years ago after budget cuts and news the Nazis were going to focus on Texas again.”
Kujira drove the
Musasabi
into the entrance of the maze, which was narrow and only able to fit one mecha at a time. He veered left as soon as he entered and lurked right next to the entrance. The heat signature of three mechas drew close. As the first hostile mecha entered the maze, Kujira took out the electric sword, then smashed it into the chest plate of the one charging in. The force of the blow, combined with the speed of the other’s charge, resulted in a loud boom, the impact forcing the mecha back. Ben knew if he hadn’t been strapped in, the force would have flung him straight into the ceiling. Kujira raised his shoulder again and charged the mecha, forcing it to topple backwards into the mecha behind it. The mecha behind had its sword unsheathed, which then electrified the mecha falling into it. Kujira withdrew his sword, turned around, and dashed out of the way. An explosion severely damaged both mechas and impeded the path in. Smoke was swirling around them and fire consumed the armor.
“Egg juice!” Kujira demanded. The circular portical brought a tall cup that had a dozen egg yolks in it. Kujira downed it. “These Vancouver-trained drivers just aren’t as good as the old timers.”
He moved the
Musasabi
through the maze into several tower-like structures and lumbered up, each step causing the whole structure to shake. The finger joints latched onto orifices built into the spiral, nimble motions that would have crushed any organic thing with a push. One hundred meters up, Kujira looked through a one-sided opening that served as a vantage point for the entire island. A pillar of smoke obfuscated their view of the entrance, though four others were circling the base to try to find another way in.
Kujira sat and the wires around him shut down. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when they break through,” he ordered the portical.
“How long before that happens?” Ben asked.
Kujira picked one of his teeth. “Fifteen minutes at least.”
Kujira went to sleep.
Ben looked back out towards the entrance. Two mechas tried to batter the wall to no avail.
“What’s going on?” Akiko asked.
“I think they have to blast their way through the damaged mechas blocking the entrance.”
“But the crew…”
“It would take hours to carry out a rescue mission and remove them. They’ll probably be sacrificed so they can get through quickly.”
The porticals on the
Musasabi
were in high alert, continually checking the scanners. Kujira was snoring in his seat.
Mechas intentionally kept themselves off the electric kikkai in order to remain insulated against attempts to take over their controls. But Ben wondered what a simulation would predict given the parameters – one mecha against the six that remained.
“Is it OK to sleep like that?”
“All of them do it,” Ben said. “It’s to rest their nerves since they never know when the next bit of sleep will come. I’ve heard stories of pilots who lost their brains because they stayed up a week straight hooked into their mecha.”
Kujira was enjoying his sleep, spit dribbling onto his shoulder.
A bright explosion resulted in a pillar of smoke.
“The mechas are destroyed,” the portical alerted him.
Kujira blinked. Looked up at the scans, checking the heat signatures.
“Sixteen suckers dead because their pack leader doesn’t know basic tactics.”
One by one, the six remaining mechas pounded through the corpses of the two dead ones. No one mourned the machines.
Kujira shook his head giddily. “Let’s dance, let’s dance, one-one-two-four, one-one-three-four.”
The
Musasabi
released its clutch on the tower and plummeted straight down, landing gracefully on its feet despite leaving a crater. It charged its sword and plunged it into the ground. The sword didn’t break through at first and Kujira maintained the thrust with both hands on the hilt, pushing with all the mecha’s strength. It was like cutting a mountain with a knife, only with six death machines heading their way.
“What are you doing?” Akiko asked.
“The core stabilizer is directly underneath. If that goes, the whole island will sink,” Kujira explained.
Do we want that?
Ishimura was about to ask, but thought better of it.
The
Musasabi
lifted its left arm up. The fingers rotated down and eight plates in the knuckles opened. A cannon emerged from the orifice and charged up its magnetic pulse before unleashing a stream of bullets that pummeled the ground. The surface gave way and cracks fissured apart. Kujira lifted the sword up with his right arm and thrust it back in, breaking open the ground.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Kujira exhorted, rapidly shaking his hands.
The
Musasabi
broke through to the core and ruptured it. The whole island quavered, shook, then began to sink. The ground swelled with seawater.
“Should I activate autobalancing?” the main portical asked as a cautionary measure.
“Daft, it is,” Kujira said. “Do we look like amateurs? Let those simulation trained monkeys activate theirs. We’ll break them apart and they won’t even be able to react.”
“What’s he talking about?” Akiko asked.
Ben thought about it for a minute. “The autobalancing system means motion is compensated for. If there’s a sudden movement, like an attack, it’ll react opposite to what the pilot wants.”
“Don’t they know that?”
“From what I’ve heard, most of the new mecha trainees from Vancouver are on a cheaper budget and trained on simulation cores. No real combat experience so the USJ can save money. Command thinks piloting is easy to outsource.”
“They all accept lies as truths,” Kujira said, “because they’re cowards. No one fights mass madness. Even the old-timers were too afraid to fight for their own rights.”
The other mechas looked similar to the
Musasabi
. But General Itoh’s personal mecha was a quarter bigger, crimson shoulder pads, a lavender titanium plume above its helmet. There were curved spikes on both arms and additional armaments on its girdle. Its hand was pitch black and made it appear as though it were wearing leather gloves.
Itoh’s voice came over the communicator. “I don’t know who you are, but if you don’t power down immediately, I am going to personally rip that piece of lard apart and melt each piece for scrap parts.”
Kujira giggled back. “You can try, Itoh,” he said and shut off the communicator.
Itoh split the mechas into three groups of two, dividing them so they could attack from three different angles on Kujira’s central position. Ben thought Kujira would withdraw, try to find a more easily defensible point. But the
Musasabi
remained still, or as still as could be, considering the whole island was shaking and dropping into the water. The sea had risen to knee level. Kujira shook the controls continually to maintain balance, adjusting, compensating, tweaking, similar to a circus tightrope act. The island’s descent wasn’t a slow, level one, but a spurring gallop, dropping on a slope before jolting back up and tilting the other way. The smell of fuel and seawater intensified, a pungency exacerbated by the sweat in Ben’s nostrils. He gripped his belt when the shaking increased. It took a strenuous effort just for the
Musasabi
to stay in place.
The first of the smaller mechas charged at the
Musasabi
with a spear. At the same time, another attacked from the right flank using an electric sword in a two-pronged strike. Kujira blocked the sword with the
Musasabi
’s sword and simultaneously managed to grab the spear coming at him from the other side. He then swung the spear towards the other mecha. Three turrets on his chest unleashed a torrent of bullets at the cooling vents on the opposing mecha who would not release the spear. The vents were seared shut, and seconds later, the hydraulic adjusters on its spine ceased motion. Kujira lifted his right foot and slammed it into the chest of the opponent with the sword, knocking him back. But the balancing adjustors prevented its legs from falling as it normally would, causing the top of its body to whiplash back in comedic fashion. The machine resembled a contortionist. The
Musasabi
pointed its sword in place for when the mecha would auto-balance itself into place, committing a
seppuku
of sorts as it regained its stance. Sure enough, the mecha impaled itself on the
Musasabi
’s sword. The central generator’s auto-balancing system forced it to get back into its position, even if that meant destroying its hull on the edge of the enemy blade. The one with the spear had limited mobility as it scrambled to get a worker crew down into the spine hydraulics. They did not have much time, but just as the
Musasabi
was about to deliver its death blow, another mecha struck from behind.