Greg

Mecha Skirmish 3

Added 2025-06-20 01:35:55 +0000 UTC

Man! I have really procrastinated this sucker. I think I felt bad for hurting the characters. Oh well, can't make an omelet and all...

Mecha Skirmish 1
Mecha Skirmish 2

———

After loitering in the game store for an hour, flipping through the latest titles and lusting over the newest rigs, the group drifted out the door and into a loose huddle out front.

“So, where should we go next?” asked Neakli.

Xica seemed distracted, staring at the red bakery next door. When nobody suggested a destination, she rejoined the conversation, speaking up with as timid a voice as they’d heard from her. “Uh, well,” she said, “we could go to my house. I could show you my latest project … if you promise not to laugh…”

Neakli, Tota, and Rolanz turned to stare at the white rodent perched atop Neakli’s shoulder, their ears raised in curiosity.

“Oh, yes, let’s all go over to Xica’s house,” said Somchai, his voice buried deep beneath an avalanche of sarcasm. “We could have a sleepover—the five of us curled up together on her bed.”

To Neakli’s surprise, the mysa sounded unruffled. “Nah,” she said, drawing out the sound, “I have to share a bed with a bunch of cousins. There’s no room for anyone else.”

“Would any of us even fit in your house?” asked the geordian.

“No, of course not,” said Xica with a chuckle, “but our apartment is on the main thoroughfare. Even Somchai’s hairdo should fit out on the street.”

She stuck her tongue out at the lio, and his ever-present frown deepened. “Hey!”

“But my project… I’ve been building it up on the roof,” she explained. “If you wanted to see it, you could—without having to come inside.”

“Yeah, all right,” said the geroo. “I’m curious!”

Rolanz and Tota agreed. Somchai didn’t suggest any alternate plan, and his big paws padded along behind the others.

“I’ve never been to the mysa sector,” said Neakli with a smile. “This is kinda exciting.”

“Yeah, me neither,” said Tota. “I heard their vendors sell only mysa-scaled items and portions.”

“I guess that’s true. We can be kinda insular,” admitted Xica. “We take some of your scraps and hand-me-downs. Sometimes our families come down here, and they all share one of your gigantic sandwiches, but if you guys came up to our level? A vendor would probably sell out his entire stock before you felt full.”

Somchai snorted a laugh at the mental picture.

Lots of ladders led up to Xica’s floor, but they were all too small for the four. She directed them to the freight elevators instead, though those could only carry two at a time.

Tota and Neakli—with Xica on her shoulder, of course—went up first, then waited for Rolanz and Somchai to take the car when it returned back down. While they were waiting, Neakli savored the differences between the mysa area and the other portions of the mined-out asteroid they all called home.

The geroo could smell so many individuals, so many scents overlapping, a multitude, really, that she couldn’t isolate a single person’s scent. She smelled cooking that was nearly familiar—the same starchy grains and tubers that her family ate at home—but with so many spices she’d never tried. The scent of cooking oil hung heavy in the air, clinging to the rock walls, the ceiling, and the pelts of the denizens.

Around her, a sea of small pedestrians scurried on their way, heading this way and that, in and out of the dollhouse buildings that lined the streets.

The residents had excavated some of the apartments right into the rock walls—tiny doors, windows, ladders, and landings covered them from floor to ceiling—but had built other buildings freestanding, often cobbled together from salvaged scrap.

When the elevator doors opened once more, Somchai’s scowl deepened further than Neakli had ever seen before. “This place is vile,” he groaned.

“It’s not bad,” countered the geroo, pounding his arm lightly with the side of her fist. “It’s just different. Different always takes some getting used to.”

“Different disgusting,” he grumbled. He made a show of holding his nose while he followed the others.

Over her unoccupied shoulder, Neakli mouthed, “That’s rude!” at him, but turned back around before he could mouth any reply.

The walk to Xica’s apartment was short by geroo standards, but the four had to move so much slower and so much more carefully than they were accustomed. When they stood still, the foot-traffic swarmed around them like a stream avoiding boulders, but when they stepped, they had to give others a chance to get out of the way before putting their paws back down.

Worse still, food carts were scattered everywhere. They, obviously, didn’t move out of the way, so the gold-black-gold team had to pick their path carefully.

“This is exhausting!” sighed Neakli. She started to lean against a building only for it to shift and slide across the ground. “Oh shit! Sorry!” she gasped.

Xica just shrugged. “Rush hour. Really not ideal for you guys, I guess. My bad. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” said her friend, supportively.

Xica smiled at the geroo, then pointed. “There! There! That’s my house; the pink one.”

Neakli nodded and worked her way toward the three-story structure. At the ground floor, she saw an entrance for an accountant and windows filled with advertisements for a bodega, but all the windows on the remaining floors looked like apartments. Most had brightly-painted trim and some even had flower boxes with tiny, precious blooms.

When they reached the building, Xica scrambled down Neakli’s arm and leapt to the roof. “Remember what I said,” she repeated, “no laughing. I know it’s silly.”

Neakli, Tota, and Rolanz all nodded, but the geroo didn’t bother looking Somchai’s way.

Xica grabbed the edge of a silicon lunchbox, and with a heave, she pulled it from behind a heat exchanger. “I haven’t painted it yet,” she said, “but that bakery next to the game shop is getting repainted. I betcha I could borrow a shot glass worth of paint from them, and no one would ever miss it.”

The mysa pulled a series of cardboard sheets from inside the box, unfolding each and arranging them in stacks. She’d carefully cut each set to shape and joined them at the edges with strapping tape to act as hinges.

In a voice just louder than the rush hour commotion, Neakli asked, “Is that a—?”

“Yup!” said Xica proudly as she stepped inside two leg pieces. She grabbed a torso piece and pulled it over her head and down until it rested on her hips. “I made my very own UtiliJack mecha!”

The four stared with wide eyes as she assembled the rest. “I used some discarded pens to make the rocket launchers. They’ll look cooler when I paint them.” She alternated pointing her fists at different black-gold-black team members and made “Pew! Pew!” sounds with her mouth.

“That’s so cool!” said Neakli at last.

“Yeah!” added Tota and Rolanz. Somchai scoffed.

“Thanks!” said the mysa. “Originally, I wanted to make one with leg extensions so I could be a meter tall, but I wasn’t having much luck sourcing the parts.”

“Well, I think it’s awesome as it is,” said Neakli. “Any costume that makes you bigger would be cool, but if it’s too awkward to even walk around in it, then what’s the point?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” agreed the mysa, but her tone was disappointed.

“Not that any of this really matters,” sighed Xica, taking off her mask and holding it under one arm. “This is all just pretend, but someday … the real thing.”

The geordian blinked. “You’re going to make a real mech?”

“No, silly,” laughed Xica, “someday I want to enlist in the lio mechanized infantry so I can pilot a real mech.”

Neakli started to nod, then froze, her ears in a puzzled expression. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Xica as she started removing the costume, “lio mechas are made to be piloted by big ol’ lios, but I figure I’m an exception. No one’s got the reaction speed I do; no one’s got my knack for strategy—at least not on this station. I figure when they see just what I can do, they’ll make an exception, mod one of their mechs so someone my size can operate it.”

She laughed hard. “Hell, wire the damn thing up to a “cub’s first tablet” and I’m still gonna outperform anyone the krakun can put up against me.”

The rush hour roar seemed to fall away, leaving Neakli’s ears ringing from the sudden silence. Very slowly, she started to repeat, “The … mechanized…?”

But Somchai had already lowered his face to be level with the mysa’s. “Wait. Wait. Wait,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “I want to hear you say that again. The mechanized what?”

“Oh, don’t be such a tailhole,” scoffed Xica, “and don’t act like I’m not up to it. I’ve put you in the graveyard more times than anyone could count. The mechanized infantry is my ticket off this rock! While every other mysa is making a living off of other people’s scraps. I’m gonna be the mech pilot that makes history!”

Somchai covered his muzzle with both paws as he struggled to contain a boisterous laugh. Xica set her weight on one hip and pointed an angry finger in his face, but before she could say another word, the explosive laugh escaped, nearly knocking her from her paws.

The lio howled his laughter and the passing commuters gave him space, clearly worried about getting trampled. He bent at the waist and clutched his stomach while he laughed. He fell to his knees, and tears leaked from both eyes.

Xica just scowled, looking angrier and angrier, but before he crumpled completely to the floor, the lio managed, “You idiot! You empty-headed little rodent! There’s no such thing as a mechanized infantry!”