Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Stubs Soon!

I was sitting and having a drink with Alexander and Hanna, relieved that my fan club had moved along while I was outside, when I saw something strange on the dance floor. Couples were twirling, women in their long gowns, and with these classic old waltzes, each couple didn't get particularly close to the next, usually. Made it easy to watch the action.

A couple on the dance floor suddenly broke apart. The girl seemed to be giving the man a piece of her mind before storming off the floor a moment later. The man, for his part, looked befuddled as he left the floor in shame. All around, people gave them strange looks before going back to dancing.

I found it amusing but didn't think much of it until a few moments later. I was looking across the room and saw a girl standing in conversation with several others when she suddenly spun around. Behind her and two feet away, a man had been passing by. She whirled at him and gave him a glare, like he had just felt her up or grabbed her butt or something. Sure, he’d been the closest man, but I’d been looking in that direction, and he hadn’t been within arm’s reach of her.

I mentioned it to Alexandra and Hannah, who were sitting there resting their feet, or maybe just avoiding the social awkwardness. Hannah shrugged it off. “Sometimes other men don’t notice, but we girls do, believe me.”

I let it drop, but something nudged at my brain.

"How do you know which girls are mech riders?"

"Oh, that's easy," Hannah said. She tugged at the brilliant blue sash she wore across her shoulder and down to the opposite hip. "We’re all wearing sashes, like this. Girls without sashes are someone else's date."

Both of the girls I had just seen reacting oddly had been wearing sashes. "This is a mech hangar, right?" I leaned forward.

Alexandra nodded at me. "Yeah." He pointed out a couple of the Hungarian mechs around the room in the corners, draped in bunting. "They left a couple in here for decoration, but the rest of them moved out."

"Moved where?"

"This whole row is mech maintenance. I was talking to one of the support guys earlier. This is their biggest hangar. The other big hangar is down at the end of the row." He gestured off in a direction. "They moved everything down there. Little cramped, but they’ll put it all back tomorrow."

"Is your friend still around? The maintenance officer? Can you introduce me?"

"Sure, but why?"

“Just humor me.”

Alexander got up, and I trailed him around the edge of the dance floor. As we walked, he asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to see their hangars if possible. Do you think he'd be willing to slip out and show us around?"

Alexander gave me a quizzical look. "Any particular reason?"

"It's just a hunch I have. Probably nothing."

"Alright."

We found the man near the bar, regaling some bored-looking older gentleman with a tale of logistical woe. Alexander introduced us. Bela leapt at the idea of sneaking out and showing off his facilities. Together, we all made our way to the entrance, drinks still in hand. Bela’d had more than his share already and was bragging about the latest equipment that they had for mech servicing.

By the time we got outside into the night, I was sure I was overreacting. It was probably just nothing, my mind playing tricks on me, or a random coincidence. Still, something about those two incidents had me bothered.

We got clear of the big hangar, dodging around the rope and stanchion, and off the red carpet. Bela was still chatting amiably and waving his drink around as we passed the guards. We made our way into the darkness beyond the massive hangar, onto a wide expanse of tarmac made a road between rows of old brick structures. Bela was pointing out the buildings and telling us how that building used to be where they stored ammunition, but now it had been converted to spare parts for arm actuators.

"The old hangars are now packed completely full. You could barely move through there without bumping into a mech. Couldn't do any maintenance tonight if we wanted to. Not that we do, mind you. All the officers are at the party."

"So who's that then?" I pointed down the road.

Bela broke off. "What?" He sounded offended by my interruption. He squinted into the darkness. A quarter mile down the road sat two big lorries outside of an older, smaller hangar building. He squinted at them and shook his head. "Nobody should be there tonight."

Alexander's voice was suddenly worried. "Should we go get someone?"

"What? No. Probably just some delivery, blasted idiots who think coming now means they can cadge a free drink." Bela picked up his pace, and we followed him down the tarmac.

I had that bad feeling again, and I really wished for my sidearm.

"Are we sure we shouldn't go back and get—" Alexander was saying as we came up on the trucks.

One feeble light glowed above the nearest door, a wide sliding wooden panel, four meters tall. A pair of men stood frozen by the rear of the closer truck, one with a crate in his hands.

Bela stumbled right up to them. "What's going on here? Who's your supervisor?

We weren't expecting any deliveries—" Bela broke off with a cough and stumbled backwards. A knife was sticking from his chest. The stranger yanked the knife from Bela’s chest and lunged at me.

I took a quick step backwards. As I did I grabbed Alexander's arm and pulled him back with me. The man's wild thrust missed, and he staggered forward. I stepped in swinging.

My fight at the Capitol the day before had annoyed me. The other golems had manhandled me—had golem-handled me—in a way I would have sworn wasn't possible. Their fighting prowess was so much better than mine, it left me feeling impotent and annoyed. So when I swung at the interloper, I held nothing back. One massive fist caught the man in the chest, and I felt bones crunch. The man tumbled backwards, bounced off the side of the building, and sprawled in the street, a limp heap.

The door on the side of the hangar yawned open, and I heard a scuffle of steps inside. From somewhere in the building, there was a muffled shout. The man who’d been holding a crate was gone, his crate abandoned beside the truck.

"He's dead," Alexander said.

I glanced at the crumpled body of the soldier and then over at Alexander, who was leaning over the corpse of Bela. He looked at me, face stricken in the feeble light.

"What's going on, Sergeant? He just killed him."

I flexed my fist, remembering the feel of bones crunching. "Yeah, there's a lot of that going around. Look, you need to get back to the party and warn them something's up. Find the military police and get them down here."

Alexander staggered to his feet. "All right.” He started away.

"And hurry!" I called after him.

As I stood there, I took another look at the bodies and then at the open door. This was supposed to be a mech hangar, and whoever was in there was clearly saboteurs. Was it a wild assumption to guess that they were Russians? But too many things lately had pointed in their direction. If this was an attack, they picked the perfect night for it, when all the mech riders would be distracted with the party.

So what was their plan? Sabotage the mechs? I turned to the crate the man had been unloading. It only took a moment for my incredibly strong hands to pop the lid off.. Rows of round cylinders greeted me.

Dynamite. They were going to blow up the mechs, or just blow up the building and collapse it on them. Either way, they could cripple the entire military reserve of the Hungarian army here in one stroke.

But that wouldn't be enough, would it? Surely the Hungarians could rebuild and repair mechs fast enough to still cause difficulty for a Russian invasion. Were they just doing this to keep them from sending mechs to Poland? Or was it something else?

I didn't have time for speculation. There probably was a follow-up plan, another attack coming. But I did know for a fact: this attack was here, now. And I had to do whatever I could to stop it.

The dead man's knife had fallen away into shadows, and I was unarmed. I hefted the lid of the box—a wooden square, one foot by two feet. It was only slightly better than nothing, but it would have to do.

I stepped through the doorway of the hangar into darkness. Sidestepping out of the doorway, I bumped up against some heavy piece of equipment. I stood there, breathing quietly and peering into the black, giving my eyes time to adjust. Slowly, I began to make out vague shapes, but not much. It was pitch black in here.

More by feel than sight, I began to move forward. Suddenly I saw a flicker of blue in the darkness. I shifted my head twice to isolate it. What the hell was that? It was only a flicker, and it vanished as I turned to look at it. I shifted my head from side to side while looking in the same direction and was able to catch another glimpse. Blue. Glowing blue. Desh.

I got my bearings and felt my way towards it. As I did, the light got brighter, and I could make out a bit more. A heavy door had been broken open. Inside was a space like a walk-in bank vault, shelves lined with the blue vials of mech fuel.

As I stepped into the room, my foot caught on something. A heavy cable was running across the floor. I bent down and followed it by feel to a big bundle of sticks in the middle of the room.

Dynamite. They were planning on blowing this whole place up. This was the fuel depot. Unless I missed my guess, there would be more charges placed elsewhere in the hangar to destroy the mechs themselves, or at least bring the roof down on top of them.

I scooped one of the vials of blue glowing desh off the shelf and used it as a crude flashlight to investigate the bundle of dynamite. Dynamite’s not as stable as C-4, but my golem hands never trembled as I yanked the cables out of each stick and toss the detonator cord out of the door. I put a hand to my brow to wipe away sweat, but there was none. My heart was calm, too. Another reminder that I wasn’t really human anymore.

Vial in hand, I made my way back into the hangar proper. I kept it low so it only provided light for me, and not a target for my foes. I still heard their muttering voices somewhere up ahead, but I wasn't trying to find them. I was trying to find their handiwork. I needed to defuse any bombs I could quickly.

From somewhere deep in the building, I caught a flicker of light. Too far away to be useful. It gave me a direction. I made my way into the building, slowly, painfully slow. Somewhere in here, men were planting explosive charges. It could be all around me, wired to blow at any moment. I’d lost a leg to a bomb once, did I really want to lose my new body just when I was starting to get used to it? Maybe I should get out and wait for the Hungarians. This was their hangar, anyway. Get a grip, Sam. Keep moving.

One step at a time, I worked my way deeper into the hangar. The flickering lights were brighter now. I heard at least two voices calling to each other. Their tone was urgent, almost fearful.

As I got closer to the light, I started being able to make out all the mechs around me, packed close together in rows. I had been brushing past them by feel. An amused and slightly embarrassed part of me wondered how many girls in the dance had felt something brushing by their legs.

Would they even notice? Would anyone sound the alarm? The two girls I had seen hadn't suspected anything, but my hunch had proved right. The saboteurs, while planting their bombs, had unintentionally bumped into those girls' mechs, making the girls think they’d been felt up by fellow dancers.

The lights were moving, working across the warehouse. I moved to follow, dodging between the rows of mechanical men. Suddenly, I caught my foot on a wire. It seemed out of place here, running between the rows of silent mechs.

I leaned down and felt for it. Sure enough, a heavy single conductor cable was running across the floor, right between the rows of mechs. It must be a detonator of some kind. I wrapped my hands around it and pulled hard, but the heavy cable resisted even my immense strength, digging into my hands.

Working as fast as I could, I felt along the cable, working my way deeper into the shadows. Fortune was with me, and I quickly came to a charge. A bundle of dynamite was set against a I-beam that held up the ceiling.

I grabbed the bundle and yanked at the cords. They ripped out easily. How many more bundles were in here? If you're a saboteur attempting to blow the supports, how many would it take to bring down a building this size? If I disconnected some, how many would it take to leave the building intact? I knew a controlled demolition took quite a few charges carefully placed, and even a few of them out of place would cause it to go haywire. Should I go after the charges or the men who were going to detonate them?

Indecision kills as surely as any gun or bomb. One of the things the Army had taught me was that it was better to make a poor choice quickly than a perfect choice too late. I searched around, looking for the next support pillar. My eyes had adjusted by now, and I made out one ahead, in the shadows.

I quickly worked my way over and found another bundle of explosives, disabled them and moved on. I left the dynamite behind after kicking the wires away from it. I couldn't carry them all with me. Without the detonators inserted, they were relatively safe.

The light had moved off to where I could barely see it. I hurried forward and found yet another bundle of dynamite and pulled the detonators out.

Dare I press my luck and go on? Were they outside even now, ready to plunge the handle on a detonator?

I had just made up my mind to search for another pillar when the world exploded.