Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Stubs Soon!

Chief Inspector Nagy Lazslo screeched to a halt in front of the Army barracks. He was pretty sure this was the place the gate guard had described. Sure enough, there was a golem in a Polish uniform standing in front of the building. This had to be the one he had heard about. How many massive artificial men in Polish uniform could there be running around Budapest?

Before coming here, Inspector Lazslo had talked to the secret police of the capital about the incident yesterday. This had to be the golem the agent of the secret police had told him about. Nagy groaned inwardly. He just wanted to get a quick statement, and now he was going to have to deal with some kind of defective golem. At least it was supposedly talkative.

Nagy was a people person. He really liked to chat and get to know people, and they responded to that, telling him things that you wouldn’t normally tell a virtual stranger. Golems were something else entirely. While most of them could speak, they generally didn’t, preferring just to respond to orders with grunts and growls. It gave Nagy the willies.

He could tell this one would be different right away. Something about the way it stood, its body language, gave off an almost human aura.

“Is this the Polish Hussar barracks?”

The golem was sitting on top of a packing crate in front of the barracks building with, of all things, a massive combat knife in one hand and a stick in the other. Apparently, it was whittling. The thing stood as Nagy approached.

“Depends on who’s asking,” the golem said with a slight tilt of his head.

Nagy had expected a grunt of assent or a growl of dissent. Was he going to have to treat this thing like a human? He sighed inwardly and started his usual spiel.

“I’m Chief Inspector Nagy Lazslo of the Budapest Police Department. I need to ask them some questions.”

The golem set his knife and stick down on the crate the stood. He folded his massive arms. It was intimidating as hell.

“They’ve given orders not to be disturbed.”

“It’ll only take a minute. I just need to take their statements.” Nagy pulled out his little notebook and a pencil and flashed his most disarming smile. He knew it was hopeless, because golems were as inflexible as the dawn.

The golem shrugged. “Sorry, they’re getting ready for the gala tonight, and they’re probably not presentable. They gave me the whole story. Perhaps I can help you?”

Nagy considered this. His visit was more formality than anything else. He had already gotten a pretty good rundown of what happened from the secret police. Terrorists weren’t really his jurisdiction anyway. He just hated leaving things like this to the secretive bunch. They weren’t normally as forthcoming with information as they had been today.

Nagy had lucked out and got the agent gossiping about the incident at the Capitol. Everyone liked to tell a juicy story.

He flipped open his pad and poised his pencil above it. “Are you the same golem that was involved in an incident at the Capitol yesterday?"

The golem unfolded his arms and stood up straighter. That was interesting. He reacted the way humans did to being queried by someone with authority. He looked almost embarrassed as he answered. "Yes, sir."

"Is there anything you can tell me about that?" The affair was really in the Capitol Police's jurisdiction, but it was always an angle to get the subject off balance before you got to the more interesting questions.

The golem shrugged. "Not much to tell. A bunch of Russians started making trouble for me and my detail."

"And your men are used to trouble with Russians?" He cocked an eyebrow at the golem.

"Well, yeah, we fought a whole bunch of them coming over the pass."

This surprised Nagy. He tried not to register shock. "The pass over the Carpathians?"

The golem nodded. Nagy had heard there was a new offensive on just the other side of the mountains, but he hadn't expected these Poles to have come over recently. He had thought they were attached to the embassy.

Nagy frowned. It was really none of his business, but all his instincts as an inspector told him to follow up every line of questioning that you could.

"You came over the pass recently? What can you tell me about that?"

The golem shrugged yet again. "Whatever you want to know, I already told those guys at the Capitol everything."

Something in the golem's voice suggested that had not gone the way he had wanted. It bothered Nagy. Everything about this creature's reactions struck him just like a human, and all his police instincts were jangling. He needed to reclaim control of the situation.

He transferred his pencil and notebook to his left hand and stuck his right. "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Inspector Nagy. And you are?"

The golem stepped forward and reached down with a massive hand to envelop Nagy's own. The power in that hand was astonishing, but thankfully the golem didn't play the "who will wince first" dominance game.

"I'm Sergeant Sam Golem, Royal Polish Hussars."

Nagy tried hard not to let his surprise show. This thing had a name and a rank. It was the most bizarre encounter he could remember in his career. When had the Poles started enlisting golem?

"Like I said, not much to tell about the crossing, except what I already told those other guys."

Nagy smiled. "Humor me."

"Well," the golem said, and then launched into a tale worthy of the cinema, with mechs and biplanes and shootouts. If it had been anyone but a golem, Nagy would have suspected them of exaggeration. Even that thought bothered him. Why would he be any more inclined to trust an artificial person? Surely if he could act this human, he could be as deceptive as anyone.

"And then we came here," the golem waved a hand around to indicate Budapest.

"And you took your ambassador to see the Regent."

The golem nodded. "Yeah.”

Nagy again detected embarrassment in his voice. With a little prompting the golem gave a brief sketch of the events around his confrontation with Russians at the capitol. The tale lined up well with what the capitol police had told inspector Lazslo.

He nodded and made polite noises in the right places and the golem rolled into a description of events that happened on his companions’ shopping trip. He was thorough and concise, and once more, Nagy was struck by the incongruity of this artificial man.

“Thank you for your statement.”

“Certainly.”

The creature was polite and Nagy just had to learn more

“What can you tell me about yourself?"

The golem shrugged. "What is there to say?"

"Well, you're an awful peculiar specimen of a golem."

The creature smiled. "Yeah, I hear that from a lot of people."

"Do you have an explanation for that?"

"That's a rather personal question, don't you think?"

Nagy frowned, and the golem laughed. He waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, it's fine, really. It's just a fantastic tale, and I don't expect you to believe me, but..." Now the golem launched into yet a third tale. This one much less believable than the previous two: death and rebirth, desperate soldiers programming a machine poorly, and waking up in a strange world. It would have been utterly unbelievable if Nagy hadn't been talking to such a bizarre specimen. He had always thought golems were strange and creepy. Whatever magic was behind them couldn't be fully trusted. The idea of a Frankenstein machine pulling a dying soul from another world? Well, that was as plausible as anything.

"I must say, your story is pretty strange. I don't have any reason to disbelieve it, but it definitely strains credulity."

The golem laughed. "I mean, I could claim that I was sent here by Baba Yaga to retrieve a valuable artifact, but that's even less believable, isn't it?"

Nagy laughed awkwardly. That seemed an oddly specific thing for the creature to say.

The golem's tone changed as he leaned forward. "Look, you don't think they're connected, do you?"

Nagy stared at him, confused for a moment, and the golem continued, "This attack and those Russians at the capital.

“The Serbian nationalists?” Nagy frowned down at his notes and looked back up. "I don't see any reason to think that they are. Some of those men were known compatriots of the chetnik front, and the ones we have in custody confessed to their motives freely."

The golem nodded. "Sure, sure, of course, but who's to say they aren't dupes?"

Nagy cocked an eyebrow. "Russian dupes? Some sort of puppets sent here to sow discord? That seems overly complicated."

"Even where I come from, we know about your Serbian nationalists so I guess that's the simpler answer. But…"

"You mean in America?" The golem nodded. "You’re from some bizarre alternate world of America, and you know about Serbian nationalists in Hungary?"

"Yeah," the golem scratched the back of his head. "Let's just say they're infamous."

Where the golem had been excessively forthcoming before, now he was being annoyingly evasive.

"Look,” the golem who called itself Sam continued. “I'm not saying they have to be connected, but those Russians, they're up to something."

"Well, I can see why you would feel that way," Nagy closed his notebook.

"No, no, look, hear me out. I get it. We're from Poland. They attacked us. We think they're sneaky bastards."

"Sure," Nagy shrugged. Obviously, they would think the worst of the Russians at the moment.

“But there's more to it than that. Let me tell you a little story about what happened in Dukla Pass."

The strange artificial man now told yet another tale, this time about ghostly soldiers on the battlements, fighting with knives against the golem and one of his Hussars. Nagy was starting to wonder about the golem’s stories, each one more extravagant and less believable than the last. Could he trust what he had said about those attacks?

"Look, international politics might not be your thing," the golem continued. Nagy nodded. That was certainly true. "But I know their ambassador was here, putting a bee in your regent's bonnet." The expression was unfamiliar to Nagy, but the implication was clear enough.

"He's refused to send aid to Poland despite a treaty of mutual support. What's more, we've heard they have troops in Romania on your border."

This seriously shocked Nagy. He had heard nothing about that. It was definitely not public knowledge that he was aware of. Assuming it was even true, considering how fanciful the golem's stories had been getting.

"So, hear me out. The Russians don't want Hungary helping Poland."

"Of course,” Nagy nodded. At least that much was obvious.

“They would probably do anything to keep you out of the war, right?”

Again, Nagy had to concede the truth of it.

"So, who's to say what they would and wouldn't do, even here in your capital? What kind of sneaky, underhanded tricks they might take?"

And the golem frowned suddenly, as if a new thought had occurred to him. The visage was terrifying on the construct.

"And tonight is the gala. I mean, the Hussar ball, where all of your elite mech operators will be in one place at one time." The golem trailed off, his brow furrowed, and Nagy felt an uneasiness in his stomach.

"That's..." He started to say it wasn't his jurisdiction, wasn't his problem. But the implications were too terrifying. What if the Russians did have some kind of new stealth weapon? Something clearly meant for subterfuge and assassination?

“I do have one piece of hard evidence,” the golem said, perking up at the thought.

“Hmm? What would that be?” Nagy asked.

“The airplane.”

“The what?”

“The airplane. Our ambassador’s airplane was attacked as he came into your country, over Hungarian territory. They came in over the mountains into another country's airspace and shot down one random aircraft. They knew we were coming and they had no compunction about crossing into Hungary to attack us."

Nagy's frown deepened. It was hardly conclusive evidence, but it did point in a direction that was not comforting.

"Look, I've probably said too much, but I thought someone..." He waved a hand to indicate Nagy. "...someone from Hungary, someone in authority, should be warned. Whether you believe me or not." The golem shrugged as if to say he did what he could.

"Well, thanks," Nagy said uncertainly. He put his notebook away.

"Thanks for talking to me, and yeah, well, have a nice party tonight."

The golem gave him a wry smile. "We'll see, won't we?"

As Nagy went back to his car, the uneasy feeling in his stomach only grew.

Frank Lewis had a spring in his step, but he wasn't feeling it. He was actually a bit miffed that all the Polish Hussars were going to a fancy party tonight, and no one had invited him. They invited the damn Golem, for cripe's sake, and even that Warrant officer who spent all his time in the maintenance bay.

It was, frankly, a blow to his ego that none of the young women had wanted to go to a fancy party with him. He had turned his charm on both barrels. That Cossack girl, Tamara, had seemed interested, but she was quite a tease. Angelica hadn't spoken five words to him. Now that Hannah, she was a cutie and reserved, definitely the kind that he should have been able to sweep off her feet. But while he had been chatting her up, that big sergeant had come in and, taking Frank aside, had let him know in no uncertain terms he was to stay away from the mech riders.

He picked up a piece of trash and stuffed it in his pockets. The spring in his step was mostly due to getting away from that lot for the afternoon. He hadn’t quite made it out of the base yet, and he kept glancing over his shoulders in case the big sergeant was following him. Not that he should care. Frank hadn’t been ordered to stay at their quarters or anything. In fact he didn’t have any orders at all, had been left to kick up his heels and wait while everyone else had meetings and went to fancy parties.

And if he was being honest, he had wanted to go to a nice party. The idea that there were beautiful women in low-cut gowns dancing the night away somewhere, and he wasn't invited, just rankled.

He was caught up in himself so much that he almost stumbled into a woman coming out of one of the barracks, the one assigned to the Hussar girls. She was somewhere in her early twenties and well-dressed. Probably a local liaison, someone who worked with the Hungarian mech riders, here to help the strangers settle in.

Frank switched his attitude as quickly as he dodged out of her way. With a deft hand, he swept his hat off and gave her a little bow.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said.

She stopped and cocked her head at him, her large asymmetric hat framing her aristocratic features perfectly. "You don't sound Polish."

The question might have taken him off-guard, but he knew he was wearing a Polish uniform and had an accent that was quite different from Hungarian.

"Why, no, ma'am. Frank Lewis, at your service. One time of America, now in His Majesty the King of Poland's service, and always, a soldier of fortune." He always had a bit flirting ready for a moments notice.

"Interesting." The woman sounded disinterested. She was probably just being polite, but Frank always preferred to press his luck. She turned and started down the dirt street, and he fell in beside her. She had no other companions. It would have been rude of him not to escort her to the gate, at least.

"What brings you to Budapest?" she asked in her disinserted tone, giving him a quick sidelong glance. “Captain…”

"As it happens, I was on a special mission from His Majesty, the King himself, to transport his personal envoy." Frank launched into his tale of daring heroism, flying over the mountain ranges and fighting it out with Russian attackers. He ended with heroically pulling his co-pilot from the burning wreckage and refrained from mentioning the aid of the big sergeant.

"That's quite a tale.”

Frank didn't detect any particular interest, but he believed in always being on the attack. "I'd love to tell you more over dinner tonight if you're not otherwise engaged."

"As it turns out, I am," the woman stopped.

"Oh well." He shrugged. "It never hurt to try." He’d have to work hard this afternoon if he didn’t want to be the only one stuck back at the barracks, alone and dateless, while the officers danced and drank the night away.

As Frank was reaching to tip his hat and make his leave, she said, "You may meet me at 7:30."

He was momentarily thrown off.

"Ma'am?”

“At 7:30, by the front gate. Do find something more appropriate to wear.” She gestured to his uniform. "Dress uniforms are more appropriate for the Hussar Ball."

Frank's eyes widened, and he barely had time to tip his hat before she had vanished into the cafe. Almost certainly a mech rider herself, then.

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. Frank turned down the street and went looking for a tailor with a real spring in his step.