Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Books 2 & 3

As we entered the arena, I only had a moment to take in the situation before mechs with guns were on top of us. Fortunately, the mechs belonged to Hannah and Veronica, and the guns they were holding out were for our allies to arm themselves.

As the first two damaged Hungarian mechs paused to take cannons being offered by Hannah and Veronica, I glanced back through the broken door behind me. Some of the other prisoners were retreating back through the broken door my tanks had come in. The other two tanks had not followed mine and Wysocki through but were now in a firefight with the Russians outside of the arena. I hoped the mech pilots were in good enough shape to help them.

I considered going back, but the tight quarters back there were already jam-packed with tanks, Hungarian mechs, and Russian forces. My men knew where the rendezvous was, and I had to trust that they would get there. The driver of my machine was still sending us plowing forward, and I went with it.

Across the arena in front of us, I could see another exit, this one barricaded by wooden timbers. My tank had a very large gun.

"Load high explosives!" I yelled to the gunner, and he scrambled to obey. Our cannon roared, and the barricade across the arena vanished in a cloud of splinters and brick dust. A large part of the wall above it collapsed, but I was confident our tank could still navigate the pile.

Old and battered though they were, two Hungarian mechs sprinted past us, heading for the exit. Suddenly, one of them exploded. Its rider tumbled away and landed in a broken heap on a pile of bricks. I was sure she was dead, and we didn't stop.

German mechs were pouring into the arena, firing as they came. Behind us, Hannah and two of the Hungarians were laying down covering fire. I had lost track of Veronica entirely.

"We have to give them covering fire!" I yelled, pointing at the mechs ahead of us.

Corporal Jędrzejewski called back, "We can't bring the gun to bear unless we turn, and if we do, we're a sitting duck!"

I swore. He was right, though. If we turned to face the enemies, we would either have to be charging straight at them or standing still to give them an easy shot. I thought about it, then swore again.

"Damn it all, go on without me!" I ripped the heavy machine gun from its makeshift mount and jumped off the side of the tank.

High above the embattled arena, General Petrov yelled at his counterpart, Admiral Karpov, "You idiot, what have you done?”

“I've done nothing to your stupid exposition! Your German friends are screwing that up on their own.”

“Why did you bring that stupid walking ship of yours into the city?”

“If it wasn't distracting Baba Yaga's castle, she would already be on top of us. Use your head, man."

"I intend to." Petrov moved to the edge of the platform. Below, the quadrupedal German mech was moving into position. His radio operator was already climbing aboard. It was time to put the command mech to its intended use. "If you think you can keep her distracted, get her and your stupid ship out of the city. I have some interlopers to kill." Petrov climbed over the railing.

It didn't take me long to regret my course of action.

I realized it was stupid immediately. I should have stayed on the tank and ridden to safety. Hanging back to cover the escape of complete strangers against a horde of vastly superior military equipment armed only with a machine gun was pretty damn dumb. On the list of dumb things I've done, it ranked right up there. Still, it was a very large machine gun.

Wysocki’s tank roared up behind me; it spun to the side instead of going over the pile of rubble and leaving the way my tank had gone.

"Go, go, keep going!" I gestured.

"We'll cover you!" he shouted, and I swore. What good is covering the retreat of others if they all hang back to cover you? When everyone just hangs around covering each other and nobody leaves!

A swarm of German mechs was boiling out of a large doorframe on the far side of the ruin. A massive quadrupedal mech, like nothing I’d ever seen before, had stopped below the viewing stands, and it looked like it was taking on passengers. That thing was huge, nearly twice as tall as a regular mech and larger in every other way as well. Multiple gun turrets bristled from its back and sides. But I had more immediate problems.

A heavily armored mech stomped into view. It was half again as tall as a Polish charger and had heavy plates bolted to its shoulders and chest. It was clearly intended as some sort of breakthrough brawler. The sword it swung looked more like a chef's cleaver than a knight's weapon. It also had a machine gun mounted on its head, which it used to spray bullets in our direction.

Wysocki ducked back into the tank as rounds sprayed off the armor. I ran for cover. Wysocki’s tank rumbled into motion. The turret spun and hammered a shot into the oncoming mech. I felt rather than saw it, as I was running the other way. The blast wave slapped me in the back of the head, but it did no real damage to the heavily armored mech. The shell spanged off of its shoulder armor with a sound like a gong.

I reached a pile of rubble that offered meager cover and turned to look back. The mech had turned away from me to follow the tank. Even now it was catching up with it and lifting its meat cleaver of a sword. I raised my machine gun. Where could I possibly do damage?

Information bubbled up in my mind. Secondary leg actuators, redundant desh channels, and a drive system that was still a prototype. I saw it all in my head in a flash from the German data load I had snuck into my brain from their Frankenstein machine.

I muttered a thanks to that mad Frenchman as I raised my machine gun and fired a burst and then another, aiming for the back of the mech's knees. Bullets rattled like hail on a tin roof, hammering all around the thing's legs.

A moment later I was rewarded as the mech staggered. I could see its systems in my head and knew just what I had done. To control such a heavy machine, it had a dual desh engine system, but they weren't redundant. Both of them were required to make the thing move at combat speed. Break out either one of the systems by severing a desh channel, and it would be slowed to a crawl. Because it was still a prototype and based on older designs, the joints only had room for one desh channel to go through, protected by armor. The other was routed around the side of the knee joint. There were plans to redesign the joint to protect both, but this prototype wasn’t built that way yet.

The behemoth stumbled. The sword swing that had been falling like certain doom faltered and missed the tank. A moment later, the whole mech sagged against the handle of its sword, point now embedded in the ground. It was barely able to stay standing. I ran forward.

The armor plates around the head were an experimental configuration that gave the pilot extra protection, but they didn't enclose her completely. Wrapping a magic user completely in metal had bad consequences, especially if they were near the desh-laden exhaust fumes. There was a kind of toxic magic buildup that could happen. I didn't understand it, but various facts about the problem danced in my head thanks to all the knowledge that I had downloaded.

There was a difference between knowledge and understanding, and I didn't really understand any of this. Didn’t matter. The important thing was, this mech did not have an enclosed cockpit. I dashed 15 yards to my left and got a clear view around the head and shoulder armor plates from behind. The pilot was crouched there by the head, peering through a slot to find Wysocki's tank. He had already roared away, and her crippled mech was too slow to chase it.

I wasn't taking any chances. I brought my machine gun up and cut the pilot down in a hail of bullets. The armored behemoth collapsed completely in a heap, draped over the sword still embedded in the ground.

A thunderclap slammed into me, and I was thrown back in a shower of bricks and dirt. More shells whistled past, slamming into debris piles and half burying me in rubble.

More German mechs had arrived. I was dead meat.