Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Stubs Soon!

The elevator gondola swayed and then bumped into the ground, the cable above them stretching up into the dark. The sliver of a moon transformed the Russian aircruiser into a looming shadow overhead.

Natasha unlatched the gate and stepped down from the gondola. Dark tree branches rustled in the breeze. Ahead, through the trees, two soldiers stood along the cliff face, the light of their lanterns dimly glowing. Mikhail stepped off the gondola behind her, and they made their way through the pines to the cliff.

"Sir." The lieutenant straightened up and snapped a salute. Half a dozen rifles were leaning against the wall next to him. On his other side, the two soldiers stood guarding a hole in the cliff face, just big enough for a man to crawl through. Echoes drifted up from the hole, not clear enough to make out.

"Have my orders been followed?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, sir. The rest of the men are inside." The officer looked worried. He licked his lips. "We heard some noises, but no one's come out."

"Very good. You two." She gestured to the soldiers standing listlessly by the cliff opening. “Stand guard at the elevator. Lieutenant, you're with us."

The man's eyes widened, and he fingered the flap of his holster. "Sir?" He was positively terrified.

"You heard me." Casually, she drew her sidearm and held it by her leg. The man's eyes flicked between the gun and her face. “You first.”

"Yes, sir." He turned and, with shaking hands, grasped the side of the cave opening before crawling on hands and knees into it.

Natasha turned to the captain. "You wanted to come along?" She gestured towards the opening. It was a testament to the man that he showed very little fear, but his mouth was tight.

"Of course." Mikhail crouched and followed the lieutenant into the cave.

The floor of the tunnel was rough under the knees of her trousers but thankfully, it wasn’t muddy. When she emerged from the tunnel into the first chamber, everyone was standing around, staring at two uniformed bodies on the floor.

The lieutenant was almost panting, his eyes wide. “They were the first to come down. There was screaming and shouts. I had to threaten the others to go on. I said if they came out, I'd sh-sh-sh..."

She interrupted his stuttering. "Very good, lieutenant. Lead on." She gestured deeper into the cave. The man looked between her gun and the bodies on the floor.

"It's alright, lieutenant. The defenses seem to have," she waved at the bodies, "been taken care of. We should be quite safe now." The man gave a jerky nod before turning and walking stiffly towards the opening.

The next passage was low but only required a slight stoop to navigate. The floor was smooth and free of obstructions. A dozen yards on, they came to the inner chamber. Two soldiers huddled at the opening, hugging the wall and staring wide-eyed at the center of the chamber ahead. They didn't acknowledge the party as they entered.

Lantern light cast shadows all around the room. In the center of the floor was a cube of metal, six inches on a side. It was carved with intricate lines, glowing green. It sat in a smooth circular patch exactly in the middle of the floor. Natasha felt a chill settle in her spine as she looked at it. Her mouth was dry. And she knew what this was, who had put it here. No wonder the common soldiers were as terrified as mice with a cat on the prowl. No matter. They would do their job or she would have them disciplined.

"You, you, step forward." The closest soldier to the wall pressed his back to it even tighter and shook his head. Natasha jammed her gun into his ribs. The man jerked upright and took a half step forward. She shoved harder and he took another step.

Behind her, she heard the lieutenant berating his other soldier until the other man crept ahead. Both soldiers hesitated halfway between the wall and the cube on the floor, glancing at each other and back over their shoulders.

"Your comrades have already triggered the traps. Their sacrifice for the Motherland was commendable. It is safe for you to take it." She raised her pistol and pointed it at the man on the right. "Now! Step forward and take the cube or your entire family will be relocated to Siberia.”

The man took a hesitant step forward, shaking like a leaf. When nothing happened, he took another step. He reached out with one toe and touched the smooth circle of floor around the cube. Again, nothing happened. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached down, grasping it. He lifted it easily in his right hand. He took a moment, staring at it, and then turned and held it up.

"I..." His words broke off into a scream. Snakes of green lightning shot out of the cube and wormed up his arm. His body went rigid. He threw his head back in a long cry of agony. The whole party remained frozen, staring, and then the man's head snapped down. His eyes glowed green.

The other soldier took a quick step back, but it was too late. The man with the cube leaped for him, left hand shooting out to grasp his compatriot's neck. He slammed into him and bore him to the ground, his hand locked on the other man’s throat with unnatural strength. The soldier on the ground clutched at the throttling fingers but was unable to dislodge them.

The lieutenant stepped forward and raised his pistol, but Natasha grabbed his arm. "Don't! Wait." She noted that Mikhael was standing by the wall, taking it all in, his dark eyes narrow as he watched.

The officer didn’t fire but kept his gun trained on the two men. His hand shook so violently it was doubtful he would’ve been able to hit if he had fired, even at this range.

The possessed man was fully engrossed in throttling his companion. In less than a minute, the soldier on the floor was limp. The man with the cube looked up at them with glowing green eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was a hideous distortion. The sound tore at his throat, as if forced through his body from somewhere far away.

“Who dares?”

He remained crouched on top of the body of his fallen companion. Left hand still fastened on the dead man's neck, he clutched the cube tight to his chest.

"Who dares?" he said again. The glowing green eyes fastened on Mikhail. “You!" he hissed. Then the hideous voice laughed. “From the look of you I would say you’re a lacky of General Voskovitch.”

Mikhail blanched. The puppeted man laughed hideously. “That unimaginative fool, always sneaking around, with his schemes and plans. Well, enjoy the use of my cube while you have it.”

The glowing eyes shifted to Natasha. “You I know! The woman trying to become a girl again. Have you made a deal with that thief in Transylvania? You can't trust that charlatan. Whatever he's promised you are lies. He knows of nothing but taking other people's property and stealing their ideas. I can give you what you seek."

"I asked you before and you refused," Natasha said, trying to stay calm as she stared the possessed man in the eye.

“Because you did not have payment. I see now that this time will be different. Bring me the fire-soul and I will renew your spirit.”

"Too late," Natasha said. "You missed your chance."

The face twisted in a grimace. “Very well. But don’t let that fraud damage the fire-soul before I claim it.”

The light faded from the man's eyes and he slumped, a puppet with its strings cut. The metal cube slipped from his fingers and clanked onto the floor. Natasha scooped it up with her left hand, squashing the pang of fear she felt at its cold metal touch. Nothing happened to her.

She straightened up and turned. The lieutenant was slumped on the floor in a heap and Captain Mikhail was putting away his bone stiletto.

Natasha faced him, her gun in hand but not pointed at him. She held up the cube. "Is this the sort of token you had in mind?"

Mikhail's smile was wide. "I think you will do admirably. Do you know how to work it?"

"I know enough. It will lead us to the fire-soul." She carefully didn't mention that she already had a very similar device secreted in her quarters. If the man didn't realize how she had been able to track down the fire-soul to this point, then she would not enlighten him.

"But of course.” He held his hands wide and empty then stepped forward and reached for the cube.

She pulled it slightly out of reach. “One more thing. You will not interfere in my plans for the fire-soul. You may accompany me if you make yourself useful.” They both knew the knowledge he would gather would go back to his patron, General Voskovitch, and increase Mikhael’s standing in his eyes. That, plus the cube, was the price of his help and non-interference.

She held the cube out again. “Very well,” Nikolai said and took it. He turned the cube over in his hands, studying it. "Was that really him then? The mad monk?"

“Yes.” She gestured toward the cube. "He has a series of these scattered all over. They let him detect things and know things. I don't know where most of them are, but I just happen to know this one," she lied. Her own detection device had pointed her straight to it. “Take care with that. He may let you keep it but beware. Rasputin is a dangerous one to cross.”

“What the heck is this?" Alexander asked, peering inside the open torso of Eva's mech.

I set down the massive chest armor plate and turned to see what he was talking about. In the heart of her antique machine rested a strange device. My implanted skills told me there should be a desh engine there. Desh engines were about the size of a lawnmower. They took vials of glowing blue liquid and turned them into power for the mech’s limbs.

Instead, there was an unfamiliar apparatus of tubes and coils wrapped around a glowing red gem. It looked familiar, and I realized Eva had told me about this.

Eva hopped up and came over. “That’s the fire-soul.”

“That’s the thing you stole from Baba Yaga?”

She shrugged. “I told you, I needed it to keep me warm in the forest.”

Alexander frowned. “You just plugged this in and woke the mech up?”

"Kind of. They had it propped up on a pedestal out behind the fortress as a kind of memorial. I remembered reading in one of the books at Baba's house, that these old mechs had run off of power crystals.”

Alexander nodded. "Yes, that was before the desh engine was invented."

Eva shrugged. "So, I thought maybe my crystal would power it. And it did!"

"I don't know much about the old crystal engines," Alexander said. "And nothing about this thing. If it’s working, we better just leave it be. Let’s close this up. The fewer that know about this, the better."

“Sure. We can get the limbs greased up and see what we can do about some weapons." I picked up the armor plate. I didn't know what kind of power this crystal held, beyond energizing the old mech, but the Russians were after it. That was enough for me to want it kept secret, even from our own people. If this really was some sort of military technology, then we would need to get this back to Poland eventually. I had to assume someone there would know what to make of it. Until then, the less said about it the better.

We had gotten the chest buttoned up and were each greasing the bearings in a leg when the hangar door opened. Angelica entered, the diplomat that we had picked up in tow. "This is our mech maintenance hangar.”

The man strolled across the room, looking about with interest.

"Hi, I'm Eva." She jumped up and stuck out her hand.

The man grasped it and bent it. "Ma'am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Colonel Przemysław Mazur."

Eva blushed and took her hand back with a giggle.

"How are our other passengers doing?" Alexander asked.

"We dropped the pilot and gunner off at the hospital," Angelica answered. "They looked pretty bad, but I don't know."

"And the pilot?"

"He was just exhausted. He's up on the bridge now." She glanced at me. "Apparently, he's an American."

That startled me, and for a moment, I thought she meant another soul transported from a different time and place. Then I realized she must mean an American from this century, in this parallel world. "Really?"

"Yes. He's a soldier of fortune. Came over to fight with the French a few years ago and has been traveling about ever since. He's been in the Polish Air Force for about 14 months."

I vaguely recalled that in both world wars, before America had joined, a number of our men had gone off to fight in European armies. Apparently that was true here, too. "I'll have to go talk to him later."

The Colonel turned to Warrant Alexander. "Can I borrow Sergeant Golem for a while? I need to speak to him about a matter."

Alexander shrugged. "Yes, sir."

Colonel Mazur stepped to the back hatch of the hangar and levered it open. " Care to take a walk with me, Sergeant?"

I wiped my hands on a rag and followed him out onto the rear flatbed deck. With the hauler moving at 10 miles an hour, it was easy to be heard over the light breeze. The deck itself rolled and swayed gently with the road, but the hauler was so heavy it dampened out most of the vibrations. I had long since gotten my sea legs for this machine.

Mazur walked ahead of me, weaving between the strapped-down mechs before reaching the back of the trailer. Near the back of the trailer, he turned to face me, putting one hand on the crane derrick to steady himself. "I've heard some interesting things about you from Lieutenant Angelica."

"Yes, sir?"

"She says you claim to be from another world." He waved a hand to encompass everything around us. "Something different than this one."

"That's right, sir. I was killed in an accident, I remember that much. And the next thing I know, I woke up on this slab with Warrant Alexander, and Lieutenant Angelica." I patted my midsection. "In this rather strange body."

"So you were a normal man before?"

"That's right."

He didn’t seem surprised by this, "And she also said you claim prior experience as a sergeant."

"Correct. I was a sergeant in the United States Army."

"But I take it there's no point in me sending off a telegram to America to confirm that?"

I shook my head. "No point at all, sir. They will have zero record of me, I guarantee it."

Mazur looked at me intently. “I’ve never spoken with a golem before. To one, of course. But they don’t usually reply and they certainly don’t invent stories about being from America.”

I felt uncomfortable, standing here with the diplomat staring up at me as the countryside rolled away beside us, so I said nothing.

“Some would call it witchcraft.”

I couldn’t help barking a laugh. “You’re more right than you know, but aren’t all your mechs based on Baba Yaga’s magic anyway? So what’s a talkative golem compared to that?”

“Mmm.” Mazur inclined his head. “You have a point. Everyone speaks well of you. Angelica said the unit would have been wiped out three times already without you. The other sergeants seem to think you are a gift from the heavens.”

I cleared my throat. “Really, I’m just doing my best.”

“Indeed. But there’s a problem.” Mazur cradled his chin as he frowned up at me. “We can't have you remain aboard this craft unless you are sworn into Polish service.”

I held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. You guys brought me here. I never asked for any of this. I’ve been doing my best, keeping your mechs running and your truck moving –”

“And there’s the problem. You said your mechs, your truck. Not ours. You give orders to the men, but you’re not one of our sergeants. I intend to fix that, right now.”

“Do you usually swear golems in?" I asked skeptically.

"No, but you aren’t a usual golem, are you?”

"I don't know what the hell I am anymore. And do you even have that power, sir?”

Mazur nodded. “I'm not just a diplomatic envoy. I'm actually a reserve colonel in the Polish Army. I earned that rank, and I have the power to enlist soldiers. Are you willing to swear an oath to Polish service?"

I thought about it. "The way I see it, my old life's dead, gone, dust. I'm stuck here, and I'm stuck here to stay. This unit took me in and gave me purpose again. Your war is my war. So yeah. I’m ready to enlist, Colonel."

"Very well, Sergeant Golem, raise your right hand."

I hesitated. "My actual name is Sam Anderson."

"Didn't you say Sam Anderson was dead?"

He had me there. "Yeah, I guess so.” It hurt a little to admit it. But that life was gone, and I had never been one to dwell on the past. “Call me… Sam Golem."

"All right. Sam Golem, raise your right hand and repeat after me."

It was the third time in my life I had taken an oath. My oath to the Army of the United States had been fulfilled when I got out. The vows I took to my wife had been destroyed by her cheating and released by a signature on a piece of paper. Third time’s the charm? Maybe. I repeated the oath.

"Welcome to His Majesty's Service. Based on services rendered and prior experience, I hereby field promote you to the rank of Senior Sergeant."

I grinned. "Well, thanks for the promotion. Sir.” I saluted.

“Dismissed, Sergeant.”