Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Stubs Soon!

The scout car rattled to a halt in front of a vast expanse of ornate steps as uniformed guards hurried down to meet us. The Parliament building the seat of the Hungarian government, loomed over us. It was a spectacular Baroque edifice.

Corporal Sienkiewicz pulled up behind us in a fancy convertible car that my mind kept insisting was a ‘double phaeton’. I wasn’t sure where Colonel Mazur had acquired the car, and I wasn’t even sure what a phaeton was. When I looked at certain things, particularly vehicles and equipment, I felt a mental tingle and was able to identify them by name.

I wasn’t sure how accurate the information uploaded into me was. It mostly seemed to work on older machines and equipment, so I might be decades out of date.

I had driven the scout car with three privates. Colonel Mazur, 2nd Lieutenant Hannah, and Lieutenant Angelica had followed with two more soldiers in the fancy car. Double phaeton, I corrected myself.

As soon as the car halted, the colonel stepped out of the phaeton and came over to me. "We arrived unannounced, so we'll probably have a long wait in front of us. Sergeant, you can park the cars wherever they tell you, and ask the Hungarians where to wait. Take the men and keep your head down and your ears open. Angelica and I will send for you when we are done."

I stayed in the driver's seat but delivered a stiff salute. Ears open, eh? Maybe it was time to play a little bit of ‘I'm a big dumb golem’. This could be fun.

The armed Hungarian guards eyed us suspiciously as they fingered their rifles. Colonel Mazur handed Angelica and Hannah down from the phaeton, and then they both started up the steps.

A uniformed man came down to meet them. He wore a stuffy jacket, one of those gaudy military-styled outfits that all the nobility used to like in this era. He spoke in low tones to Colonel Mazur.

This went on for a few minutes, back and forth, while the rest of us waited. Finally, he raised his voice and addressed those of us by the cars. "Someone will be along shortly to tell you where you can park your vehicles." He eyed our beat-up military car with disdain before turning and leading Mazur and the women up the stairs.

A few minutes later, another man arrived, this one wearing what was obviously footmen’s garb. "You need to move your vehicles to the motor pool," he said.

“Sure. Hop in and show us where to go." Corporal Sienkiewicz climbed out and held the door of the phaeton open for him. "Or ride with the golem,” he offered, as the servant stood frowning.

The man eyed the scout car and myself, the driver, suspiciously. At last he climbed into the phaeton. Corporal Sienkiewicz closed the door behind him then climbed up into the driver’s seat. The machine rumbled to life. I started the scout car’s engine and jammed it into gear. Following the man's directions, we drove across the plaza and around behind another building into a courtyard a block away.

The five-man detail climbed out of the two vehicles and formed up in a line. Our escort eyed them and wrung his hands. I stood slightly in front of the man and glared at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He pointed out a door on the lower level of the government building across the plaza. "If you go in there, there's a place you can wait," he told us before hurrying away.

I led the way through the indicated door and into a nondescript hallway. We were definitely not in the area of the building for respected guests. I led off down the hall as if I knew where I was going, more as a show for the men than anything else.

Fortunately, it soon led into a wider corridor. Then a cafeteria. I knew it as soon as I set eyes on it. Been in enough mess halls in my life to recognize one, even in weird world war one era Hungary.

The room was big enough to do a decent job feeding the crew of a battleship, with long utilitarian tables and benches, and a window along one wall into the kitchen.

The room was only a quarter full, which made sense since we were well past the breakfast hour. There were a couple of people at the counter getting trays from the kitchen, so I led the men over to it and we lined up. Sure we’d eaten back at the crawler, but that was hours ago and you don’t pass up free food. The staff didn’t more than glance at me as they handed each of us a tray with sandwiches and a mug of tea.

As I stepped away from the counter, I gave the room another survey. There were several golems to one side of the room, sitting and eating from trays. A man in a uniform sat near them. Other groups were scattered around but I was interested in learning more about how golems spoke and acted.

I casually led the men over and sat down, seemingly at random, at a table within earshot of the golems. The man with the golems looked up as we sat, but the golems themselves gave no reaction to our presence. They continued eating their food with mechanical apathy.

These golems were also dressed in uniforms, though I didn't recognize the style or insignia. Everyone in this society wore such fancy dress that it was difficult to know which were actual military uniforms and which were just a local constable. Or even nothing remotely martial, like a local mayor or some lord's footman, all of them with a dizzying variety of overly ornate jackets and tasseled epaulets. I was getting good at recognizing Polish military ranks, but everything else was just a jumble.

I picked up my sandwich in preparation for a bite when Corporal Sienkiewicz leaned over. "Why did you sit us next to the Russians?"

"What?" I looked at him, and then glanced around. He made a head jerk to indicate behind him, and I casually glanced over my shoulder. Eight or so soldiers were sitting at the next table. At least, I guessed they were soldiers by their bearing, though their uniforms were unfamiliar. Now I realized they were the only ones in the room with that particular style of uniform. Although, like I said, there was such variety it was hard to tell.

One of them noticed my look and returned it with a sneer. I turned back to my food. I didn't want to tell Corporal Sienkiewicz that I hadn't noticed, so I shrugged and took a bite out of my sandwich.

A Russian spoke to one of his comrades in a slightly raised voice. My brain gave that itchy tingle, and I realized I could understand him. Well, that was handy. "Look at the scruffy little Poles." His comrade snickered in reply before the man continued, "Are those soldiers or Warsaw beggars?"

Corporal Sienkiewicz's face was ashen, and I realized that he must understand Russian. Two of our men glanced over their shoulders in confusion, but the other two looked angry. I spoke in a low voice. "Take it easy, men. The colonel told us to keep our heads down and out of trouble."

The Russians continued to sneer. "Look at them cowering. They must have come running all the way here with their tails between their legs, the dogs.”

The Corporal made as if to stand. I shot my hand out and grabbed his shoulder. "Take it easy. We don't want any trouble."

"Hey, Jakob," the Russian called out, and the man with the golems looked up. Apparently, they knew each other. "How can you stand the smell of these Polacks? I hope they don't make your golems ill."

My hand was still on Corporal Sienkiewicz's shoulder. He jerked but didn't rise. I withdrew my hand and reached for my mug of tea.

The Russian kept loudly addressing the Hungarian with the golems, and anyone else within earshot. "Look at the beggars. They can't even afford officers, so they've got a golem leading them."

There was a laugh from the other Russians, and more than a few of the Hungarians around the room.

Corporal Sienkiewicz leaned forward. "Sergeant!"

I shook my head. "Their pathetic insults can't hurt us. We're doing our duty. Just take it easy."

"Oh, it is in charge!" I heard the bench creak as the man stood. He came around our table, a bully sensing a passive victim. "And here I thought you'd just dressed one up as a sergeant to be amusing, but you're actually taking orders from this thing. Jakob, come look! This golem is pretending to be a soldier and the Polacks are so dumb, they’re actually taking orders from him!"

The man with the two golems turned and gave me a more studied look. His sneer turned into a smile of amusement. "Really?" He got up and came over as well. "You're right, look at that!" He reached out a hand and flicked the epaulette on my uniform with my sergeant's insignia.

"Back off, friend!" I growled at him.

The man's face clouded. "Friend? You're no friend of mine. I've half a mind to take you down to my workshop and reprogram you."

I grinned suddenly, “You can try."

The man took a step back. Now he looked extremely offended. "This golem talks back to humans." He glared around at my detail, laying eyes on Corporal Sienkiewicz. "What have you done with this thing? Is this legal in your country? I should call the constables and have it destroyed."

His offense amused me considerably. Somehow being a modern American, it was hard for me to truly grasp just how deep-rooted bigotry had been in people's minds in the old days. Maybe it was still true in some places or people back home, but for the most part, those people were smart enough to keep their mouths shut about it in public.

I just grinned all the wider. "Damage to Polish military property might be seen as an act of aggression."

"Come, come," the Russian interrupted. "Let these Polacks have their fun. If they're so desperate they're putting uniforms on constructs, we should all just pity them."

Several of my men moved to stand, but I held up a hand. "You can talk like that all you want in here," I said, keeping my voice low, "but soon we will have you over the barrel of an autocannon, and then we will see who's desperate."

The man sneered at me. "Autocannon? Do you vermin even have any mechs left? Or perhaps that's why you're putting uniforms on golems." He laughed at his own joke as he said it. "Are you making your Hussars ride golems now?" He leaned forward and flicked at my uniform. "Tell me, big fella, do you go into battle with a girl on your shoulder?"

My hand lashed out and wrapped around the front of his tunic, gathering it up in a big fist and twisting to constrict his collar around his throat. I stood slowly, bringing him with me, lifting him completely off his feet. I leaned down. "I suggest you go back and finish your lunch."

I hoped a little bit of intimidation would end things right there, but I misjudged. Unfortunately, as I stood, all of my men rose as well, turning and squaring off against the Russians. I might have still had a chance to de-escalate things if it hadn't been for the Hungarian golem hustler.

Jakob sprang away from us as I held the Russian in my grip. "Bodyguards! To me!" The benches creaked and scraped as the two golems stood. They shambled over to the man as he took another step back. He jabbed a shaking finger in my direction. "Put this abomination in its place!"

One of them growled a questioning rumble. Jakob got momentarily flustered. "Just—just take him down and leave the rest alone!"

I couldn't tell who threw the first punch because my back was to them, but behind me, my men and the Russians exploded into action. The golems lunged forward. I still had the Russian leader dangling from my fist, so I tossed him into their path. That distracted them momentarily. It gave me enough time to drop into a fighting stance.

Now, my fighting skills were admittedly limited. I had had a few dust-ups in high school and a barracks altercation or two in the army, plus the basic hand-to-hand training they gave us in basic. That, plus a lot of Jackie Chan films, was all I had going for me. I had been reveling in my newfound size and weight. This body was intoxicatingly strong. But now, coming toward me were two monstrosities built just like me.

I raised my fists, and as the first one stepped over the fallen Russian, I swung. An instant later, I realized I was in serious trouble. The golem swatted my hand aside casually and stepped in, swinging low for my stomach. My other hand had been raised in classic boxer fashion, but too high. I didn't react fast enough to do anything except take a fist the size of a ham straight to my gut. The air woofed out of me, and I almost lost my lunch.

I staggered back, seeing spots dance before my eyes. I felt agony all the way to the back of my spine. Behind me, I heard the writhing mass of bodies and meaty slaps of fists on flesh. As I stepped back, trying to get set, I stumbled into someone. The golem moved in. I tried to swing, and once again, it brushed my efforts aside and hit me across the face. I fell to the side across the table, my head ringing like a bell.

I struggled back to my feet. The golem had turned away and reached for one of my men, his meaty hand clasping on the back of his collar. This gave me a momentary opening. I swung for the side of his head and threw a blow at his kidney. The golem straightened up with a grunt and dropped my man.

Unfortunately, I had lost sight of the other golem. Something slammed into the back of my head, and the world exploded in pain.

I came to what must have been a moment later, sprawled out on the floor, half under the table, with a bench toppled on top of me. I tossed the bench aside and clambered to my feet, with screams and shouts echoing around me. I could still hear the men fighting as I blinked and tried to focus.

My men were taking a pounding, but they were game. One golem held up a struggling corporal by his tunic and tried to fend off another man with a ponderous hand. They seemed to be holding back. Their orders had been to take me, not my men. So perhaps they were holding back? That thought was a blow to my pride.

I straightened up, rolled my shoulders, and prepared to get back into it. The other golem was standing over a pile of writhing bodies, my men and Russians both, pummeling and trying to strangle each other in a frantic tangle. Its hand was ready to reach down and grab someone, but it seemed to be confused about the situation.

Shrill whistles pierced the air. A swarm of Hungarian men in uniform carrying rifles and truncheons poured through the door and charged us. I didn't dare escalate this any further. I was going to be in big trouble as it was. I took a step back and held up my hands, empty, before a wall of bodies poured over us.

Blows fell around my head and neck. I lost my balance, falling to the ground. The strikes from the wooden sticks didn't bother me as much as those massive blows from the other golem had. Oh sure, they hurt, but more like toddlers with sticks than getting hit by a semi-truck.

I heard distantly Jakob shouting at his golems, telling them to stand down. After that, there was just a lot of yelling and shouting of orders. The Russians and Poles were pulled apart and lined up. There were black eyes and cut lips all around, but the Russians seemed rather smug about it. My men seemed to have gotten the worst of it, but not by a lot.

Someone with an air of authority came in and started yelling at us even more, but I wasn't paying much attention. Eventually, they bustled us all off into a holding area, and I found myself in a small metal room that smacked of interrogation. It had a chair and that dangly lightbulb they always have in movies.

I sat for what seemed an interminable amount of time. Eventually, the door creaked open, and a weaselly-looking man came in. "What have we here?"

I thought about trying to explain. I was in charge, after all, but words failed me for the moment. I was considering claiming diplomatic immunity or demanding to see our envoy when the man started speaking again, but it was gibberish.

"Q, 7, Nightingale," he said. "W, G, Ocean."

He spoke each word distinctly, as if they had some significance. As he finished, I got a sudden tingling in the back of my head, the same as when new skills had presented themselves.

This was weird. Words bubbled up and burst out before I could stop them.

"Skoda Works, model 57B, serial number 85627023."

What the hell? I apparently had some kind of conditioned respond baked into me. No one had ever mentioned that before. Did the Poles know this, or was this something secret?

The man asked where I was created and I felt more words bubbling up inside me. I tried to harness them. I wasn't ready to give myself away as more than a usual golem just yet, but could I turn this to an advantage?

I found myself describing waking up in the armory at Rzeszow. That seemed innocuous enough, so I let it flow.

When I ran out, the man continued prompting me with a series of questions. He explored the details of our hauler's capabilities and the size of the unit we had on it. He asked several probing questions about Polish troop dispositions that I honestly didn't know.

Once or twice his questioning strayed to something that might have made me reveal what I had seen of the Russian Wraith troops or any details about who Eva was. Each time, I overrode the compulsion in my brain and pushed those answers away. He didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, following up each silence with a new question.

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door. The man jumped up, gave me an intent look, and quickly said, "You will remember nothing we have spoken of after I release you." Then he rattled off a series of numbers and nonsense words.

The code words he said triggered something in my brain. There was a blinding flash of pain. I fought against whatever it was unleashing.

I could feel it, the programming they had put into me. Keywords to trigger it, keywords to end it, and the compulsion to answer any questions by the person who gave those words. I fought hard against it. Suddenly, I felt the now familiar snapping sensation in my head as I broke the conditioning entirely. I took a ragged gasp of air and hoped my questioner hadn’t noticed.

The man unlocked the door. A slightly taller man in a nondescript suit barged in. "What have you been doing? Release this construct. The Polish ambassador is calling for his escort."