Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Stubs Soon!

When the shooting started, Frank reached inside his tuxedo jacket and drew his Colt .45 automatic. Scanning the crowd, he searched for Veronica. His top priority should always be his date, but he kept his eyes open for his Polish comrades. He caught a glimpse of Tomasz on one the far of the room, and over to the left, Eva's red hair.

First things first, he ducked through the crowd, weaving in the direction that Veronica had gone. The shooting was coming from the front of the hangar and most of the partygoers were trying to get as far away from it as possible. Frank fought the flow as he headed in the direction of the fire. He hadn’t yet caught sight of the gunman. Gunmen, he corrected himself as he heard multiple guns shooting at the same time.

Veronica appeared at his elbow. "Stay with me!" She held her hands out in front of her and shoved her way through the crowd, which parted before her like Moses and the Red Sea. When a woman in a fancy dress stumbled and fell out of Veronica's way, Frank realized she must be using magic to clear a path.

"There!" Veronica shouted and dashed forward. Hannah was facing off against several armed men dressed as waiters. Before Frank could get a clear shot, Veronica was in front of him, arms extended. With a gust of wind, tables and chairs flipped and slammed into the men threatening Hannah, plowing them into the wall and burying them under a pile of furniture. Shards of glass and plates sprayed across the room. Frank ducked, turning his head away to shield his eyes.

As he looked up, he spotted two more waiters on the far corner of the room, pulling submachine guns from under a table.

"Look out!" Frank yelled. He rushed forward, dodging between tables to try to get a clear shot. A few bystanders ran past him. As soon as they were clear, he cranked off two shots at the first man.

The fake waiter cried out and went down. Frank adjusted his aim. The next man was bringing his submachine gun up, a stubby-barreled rifle with a wooden stock and a massive drum magazine sticking out of the top. He leveled the weapon just as Frank opened fire.

Boom, boom, boom!

The man stumbled back, the muzzle of his gun rising high as he sprayed bullets over Frank's head and into the ceiling. He fell back against the wall, dark stains spreading across his white waiter uniform.

He straightened up, took a step forward and lowered the submachine gun again. Frank emptied the rest of his magazine into the man, slamming him back into the wall with shot after shot. Finally, the waiter slid down in a streak of blood and slumped over.

Frank moved forward, ejecting his magazine as he weaved between tables. Where was the first man? Was he dead? Frank thought he saw movement behind a table ahead.

He fumbled in his tuxedo pocket for a fresh magazine. The pockets were tiny and barely held magazines for the Colt 1911. By the time he fished one out, he was coming around the final table.

The other waiter, who had gone down at his first shots, lunged up. He jabbed the machine gun at Frank's body and fired desperately. Frank threw himself to the side. He felt his jacket jerk as bullets burned a hot line across his ribs. He fell. The full magazine skittered away, and he was left with nothing but an empty automatic.

The fake waiter weaved in front of him. One side of the man's jacket was soaked with blood, and his right arm hung useless at his side. He lifted the submachine gun one-handed. Frank desperately kicked a chair into the man’s path. The false waiter stumbled. His gun went off, blasting into the floor.

Frank scrambled up and threw himself across the chair, tackling the man around the waist. They bounced off a table and went down in a heap. Frank landed on top. He pulled himself upright and threw a right hook into the man's jaw, then another. The waiter's head cracked into the floor. He went limp. Frank grabbed him by the lapels, lifted him up, and slammed his head into the floor one more time for good measure. The man lay still.

Gasping for breath, Frank looked around. Everywhere, the crowd was running wildly. He couldn't see Hannah or the waiters she had been fighting. He scooped up his empty automatic. His luck was with him; he spotted the magazine under a nearby table. He scooped it up and slammed it home, dropping the slide with a satisfying chunk. Then he snapped on the safety and shoved the Colt back into his shoulder holster. Frank grabbed the waiter's submachine gun. How many shots had been fired? He wasn't sure, so he snatched up the second man’s gun as well.

Weaving between the tables, dodging the panicking crowd, he looked for his date or his comrades. The firing had momentarily stopped. People in the crowd were shouting at each other.

"We have to get outside!" one officious-looking man yelled.

"Regroup! Counter-attack!" an old-timer shouted over the din. The man looked like he was having a flashback.

Frank caught glimpse of his companions on the dance floor and started that way.

As Frank made his way through the crowd, someone called his name. Colonel Mazur was there, looked unperturbed.

“Captain. I need you to bring the car around.”

Frank’s jaw fell open. He tried for a response but came up blank.

Mazur frowned at him. “Get a move on, man. We have a busy night ahead.” His voice was calm but firm.

Frank fought off the impulse to salute. “Right. I’ll just meet you outside, then, shall I?”

Mazur shook his head. “Not me. I think our Hussars will be needed at the north gate of this base. Please see to it.”

******

Hannah caught her breath as the shooting seemed to stop for a moment.

“Fall back, fall back!” Angelica shouted. She motioned to the crowd of people at the back of the room, mostly milling about, looking terrified and confused. "Shielders to me.”

People sprang into action, prompted by the clear orders. Several girls in long ball gowns came forward out of the crowd and headed for Angelica and Hannah.

"Set up a shield wall here, here," Angelica indicated a line through the middle of the dance floor. The girls formed up, Hannah at the end of the row. "Who still has istota?"

Three of the seven girls raised their hands. Angelica swore. "The rest of you, fall back, help the wounded.”

Hannah felt inside herself for her reserves. She still had quite a bit, as she had only shielded against few dozen small arms shots. She worried about the others. If that many of them had no istota at all, these girls must not be training regularly. Their mechs converted desh into a girl’s istota supply. Without regular training, a girl's reserves would dry up and remain empty until she had contact with her mech again. These people had been shockingly negligent.

How long would the other girls' reserves last? She didn't know.

"I need a caster!" Angelica shouted.

"I'm a caster." Veronica was there. Her gown was splattered with blood, but she looked eager.

"Okay, get ready. Our troops are—"

Before Angelica could finish, a knot of soldiers in Russian uniforms burst through the doorway. They spread out, firing their rifles.

Hannah brought up her shield, keeping it thin to stretch across the entire room. It would only slow down a rifle round, not stop them. “Help me shield!” she shouted to the girls beside her.

She felt first one girl and then the others bring up their shields, spreading them out to reinforce hers like layers of armor.

Rifle fire cracked into her shield, penetrated, and then was stopped by the next girl’s shield. There were three enemies in the room, then five, then a dozen. A Russian officer entered, brandishing a revolver and a sword, yelling orders to his troops. Hannah spoke a little Russian, but in this commotion she didn’t catch any of the words. The Russian soldiers lowered their rifles and started forward, bayonets fixed.

"Now?" Veronica asked.

"Hit them!” Angelica ordered.

A wave of force washed over Hannah, raising goosebumps along her arms. It passed over the shielding girls and through their shields, its strength growing by the second. It crashed into the Russians with the force of a truck. A wave of force was just a shield, thrown up for only an instant and sent moving across a space. It was like was the hand of an angry god slamming into your foe.

Most of the dozen troops were thrown back and landed in a heap. The two closest to the door managed to keep their footing, and another only stumbled to his knees. More troops were pouring through the door behind them. How many more were out there? How had so many Russians gotten this deep into Hungary, onto a military base?

Veronica sent another wave over the shielders and into the troops, who were gathering for another charge. This time they were only staggered, with a few of them falling but then springing back up. A couple of the men who had been thrown into the wall by the first wave were getting to their feet. Others lay where they had fallen.

"I can't hold them," Veronica shouted.

The troops started firing again. Hannah's shield was still strong. One of the other girls cried out as her shield faltered, and a bullet got through. Hannah poured more of her istota into the invisible wall.

The Russians lowered their rifles like spears, bayonets gleaming, as they started forward.

There was a splintering crash. Hannah glanced over her shoulder to see the hangar wall caving in. The arms of a mech reached through, ripping boards aside, and then a head and torso, smashing its way into the building. The Russians let out a cheer.

But it was Eva's antique charger, not a Russian mech. The mech let out a blood-curdling roar, and more than a few of the partiers screamed as it started crushing its way across the room.

Seeing it wasn’t one of their mechs, the Russians panicked. Half of them turned to run for the door, the rest firing wildly. Hannah extended her shield in front of the mech to blunt most of the shots. The Mech’s armor would likely stop bullets but the humans in the room didn’t need ricochets.

Eva's mech scooped up an entire table and hurled it at the Russians. They scattered out of the way and it smashed against the wall, showering them with splinters. Hannah grinned with relief. Talk about turning the tables on the Russians!

I groaned and then coughed. My throat was full of dust. Every bone in my body hurt. Something was laying across me. I shoved at it, sending it clattering away. I wiped dust from my smoke-stung eyes and tried to remember what had happened.

I had been in a warehouse defusing bombs, and one must have gone off. The hangar was lit now by a dozen fires. It had been ripped open by the force of the explosion. Roof beams lay scattered all around.

The ceiling had completely collapsed in the other half of the hangar, but where I lay, the supports held. I guess my little counter-sabotage had done something.

I tried to stand, but the debris around me shifted, then shifted again as giant metal gauntlets pushed the piles up from below.

A Hungarian mech brushed me aside, along with a pile of debris, as it stood. It straightened up and took two determined steps through the wreckage. Then the mech jerked, stiffened, straightened up, and toppled over on its face. It didn't look like it had taken much damage from the explosion. What had just happened? What could sever a mech's link like that so suddenly?

The bombs hadn't been the only part of their attack. They were attacking the party itself.

My ears were ringing from the concussion, but I could hear distant gunfire. I had to get up, I had to get out of here and help.

Another mech crawled its way through the rubble, trying to get clear. It occurred to me that charging into a gun battle was not the best way I could help. With a burst of adrenaline, I dragged myself clear of the wreckage and stood up on a wide beam.

"That way to the door," I shouted, pointing over to a large double barn door I saw on the wall. I didn't think it was the one I'd come in, but it didn't matter. Any way they could get out of here would be good. Could the mechs understand me? Could the girls hear through their ears?

I didn't know, but I shouted nonetheless as I ran across debris and dodged fallen mechs. The place had been crowded with them before the bomb went off. Now it was a tangled pile of arms, legs, and torsos, most of which looked undamaged. Only a few were stirring.

Everyone at the party hadn’t been killed, had they? Surely not.

Fuel! Those Hungarians had stored their mechs without any fuel!

I searched around in the rubble and found the desh cylinder I had been using for a flashlight. Quickly, I went to the nearest mech. Drawing on my implanted skills, it took me only a moment to find the fuel port and connect the cylinder.

Blue light flowed into the mech. Its limbs twitched, but it didn't try to stand. Why not? Then it hit me. Only a guess, but I was sure I was right. The woman bonded to this mech must have died.

Now I knew what I had to do. I leapt to my feet and made for the back wall as quickly as I could. Because I had disabled two dynamite charges earlier, that portion of the hangar was intact. I climbed over the wrecks and made my way back into the vault.

Fortunately, although the heavy door had been blown closed, the Russians had destroyed the lock when they broke in. I yanked it open, my golem arms protesting at the weight of the door. No way a normal man could have done it.

I pulled off my tuxedo jacket and fashioned it into a makeshift bundle, loading it with as many desh cylinders as I could. With my precious cargo I made my way back out into the wrecked hangar. Dust and smoke filled the room. I coughed as I clambered back to the mechs.

I jammed a desh cylinder into the fueling port of the first mech I came across. Without stopping to see if it worked, I moved on, jamming in cylinder after cylinder.

When I ran out, I dashed back to the fuel bunker. As I came back with my second load, two of the ones I had fueled were starting to stir. By the time I used up my second load, a dozen mechs had stood and were making their way slowly towards the exit doors.

What about weapons? I hadn't seen autocannons or howitzers in here. They must store them in some other bunker. But I had seen something as I was sneaking around before the explosion—a rack of swords with long handles, like polearms.

With my second load of desh used up, I searched for the rack. It had been knocked over by the blast, leaving a jumble of swords on the floor. I snatched up the top one of the pile -- or tried to. This thing was heavy. I set myself and heaved, getting it up on a shoulder, and then made my way to the exit door.

Several mechs had already left through the big wooden doors. I hefted the sword and held it out to the next one that came by. The mech ignored me and walked right past.

I swore. Suddenly a massive hand reached down and plucked the sword from my grasp. The next mech in line liked my offering better than the first. Then it stepped forward and was gone into the night.

More mechs were stirring in the hangar and I had to find them weapons.

The Red Widow's Venom mech stomped through the gates at the Hungarian army base. No one stirred in the guard post. She could see a crumpled body just outside it. The Wraith soldiers had been busy. About time they earned their keep, even if Mikhael would try to take all the credit for this raid.

As they entered the post, the second mech squad broke off, headed for the maintenance hangars. She waved her own team to follow her towards the airship field.

It felt like make-work to attack the Hungarian air cruisers, even though it might be as crippling a blow as ambushing their Hussar forces themselves. Something about attacking warriors when they were defenseless on a night they expected to relax and have fun was distasteful to Natasha. Not that true warriors should be caught unawares, even at a party. At the same time, it certainly wasn't an honorable fight.

Her own attitude annoyed her. Soldiers' battles weren't about honor; they were about defeating the enemy and safeguarding their homeland.

Still, slaughtering unarmed girls in ball gowns just felt wrong, and Natasha was glad to have no part in it. She’d take advantage of the confusion to strike down the Hungarians’ weapons of war.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren was wailing, and she could see flickering flames. A dull boom sounded from across the base, and she could see flames rising. It looked like everything was going according to plan.