Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Books 2 & 3

The bomber Tamara rode in shuddered as bullets ripped into it. The radio operator sitting in front of her was looking out the tiny side window.

"We're hit! The engine's on fire! Oh no, oh no, we're gonna die!" The man was freaking out.

"Calm down!" Tamara yelled at him over the sound of the other motors. "We can fly without one motor."

As if to make a liar of her, the plane lurched in the air. The feeling in the pit of her stomach told her they were going down. The cabin started tilting to the right. Had the pilot been hit? Or were they deliberately turning?

The radio operator jumped out of his chair. He dropped to his knees in front of Tamara and reached for the hatch.

"We have to bail out!"

She had been considering doing that herself, so she didn't stop him as he grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

"Oh no, we're trapped!" the panicking man said when he saw her mech completely blocking the opening. The back of its flight pack was only inches below the open hatch. The wind whistled past it and through the open hatch, but there was no way for them to get out.

"We have to drop the robot!" The man reached for a lever on the wall.

Tamara had paid attention when they were loading her mech, and she knew this was the auxiliary release connected to the same handle in the cockpit that would drop the bomber's payload.

"No, stop!" she lunged for the man, knocking his hands away. "Let me do it!”

“We have to get out of here!" He fought with her, reaching for the lever. Tamara thought rapidly. If he released her mech now, it would fall away with its parachute deploying as soon as the static line pulled taut. Her own parachute would do the same if she jumped out of the open hole behind it. That had been the plan, but she didn't want that. They were being attacked, and she wanted to fight back. And to do that, she needed her mech flying, not descending on a parachute. And she needed to be with it, not descending on her own parachute, far away.

She reached down and unclipped the her static line. It was still attached to her chute, but no longer attached to the floor of the bomber. Now, she needed to see if she could disconnect the static line on her mech. It had been attached to the outside of the fuselage near the hatch.

In the moment she was distracted the terrified radio operator had gotten his hand on the release lever.

“No, wait!" she yelled, but it was too late. The man yanked down on the lever.

Tamara had been standing directly on the back of her mech with her feet through the hatch. The mech fell away, and she dropped through the hatch, her disconnected static line trailing behind her. Desperately, she lashed her feet to the metal surface with magic. Just in time, as her fell her boots remained glued to her mech's flight pack, tugging her down with it.

As the bomber flashed away above them, she crouched on the back of the mech, bending her legs to pull her body down to the back of her mech. The parachute for her mech was in a massive bag sitting in front of her. Straps ran around the torso, around the flight pack and torso of her mech, securing the bag in place. With a crack, the static line pulled taut, and the chute was yanked clear, exploding out in front of Tamara's face before billowing up and away.

"Oh shit!" She grabbed desperately for a handhold, knowing that when the chute went taut, she would be slammed back against the side of her mech. She grabbed desperately, fingers clawing at the bag that held the chute. She caught it with the fingers of her left hand, and then grabbed a handful of it with her right. She yanked desperately at the canvas, trying to pull herself forward before the chute line snapped taut and the mech under her feet. She yanked on the bag, pulling herself forward just as the chute snapped taut The effect was as if someone grabbed her ankles and hauled them straight over her head in one Herculean movement. She flew backwards. The canvas parachute bag ripped out of her hands. He own parachute pack slammed into the mech. Her head snapped back, leather helmet slamming into metal.

Tamara lay there gasping for breath. Stars danced before her eyes. She hung upside down, knees bent and feet planted firmly on the back of her mech, held there by magic. Above, she could see the chute, a giant circle of white bobbing in the air. Far away, she saw a burning airplane curving and spiraling towards the earth. Had that been her bomber or another?

The back of her mech was at a 45 degree angle. She tried to do a sit-up and pull herself to her feet, but with the wind knocked out of her, she felt weak. After two tries, she reached for her magic. With a burst of magic-fueled strength, she pulled herself up and forward. The canvas bag of the chute still flapped in front of her, and she was able to reach out and grab handfuls of it, pulling and using it to stand herself up fully. She balanced on the back of the machine, as if it was a steep mountainside. She had to get to the cockpit.

With the chute deployed, the bag, if it had been in, flapped like an enormous, deflated balloon. The folds of it threatened to engulf her. She had to risk releasing the magic jolding her feet and pull herself up past the bag. There was little to grab onto other than handfuls of the heavy cloth itself. The swaying of the parachute threatened to throw her off when the only thing she could hold onto would slip and slide toward whichever way was down as the mech rocked back and forth.

For a terrifying few moments, she heaved herself forward one handful of canvas at a time. Finally, her hand met cold metal, and she grasped the straps holding the far side of the bag to the shoulders of her mech. There, just ahead of her, was the open cockpit nestled between the flight pack and the shoulders of her robot.

Tamara pulled herself forward and into the seat. Relief flooded her, and for a long moment she just sat gasping for breath. Then she shrugged into the harness. Once she strapped in, she opened her bond and let the sensations of her mech flood into her. There was an awkward, unfamiliar moment with her mech that felt claustrophobic. Her mech's arms and legs were strapped together and the hulking flight pack was pressed against its back all around the straps of the parachute and the straps that kept her limbs from flopping around pressed into her. She needed to release them, but carefully, as she found her mech dangling at an angle where she wouldn't be able to deploy her wings. She tried to picture how the straps had gone around the pack itself. The wings were collapsed along the back and sides of the pack and its desh engine was there in the middle, powered down. The outriggers for the propulsion engines were folded back on top of the whole thing and around all of that were the parachute straps. She needed to release them all at once, but that was impossible.

Tamara reached for the desh engine control and eased it up. To reach for the desh engine controls, she toggled the unit on and then eased up the lever. Not too much. She didn't want to send her mech flying up into the inflated chute. If she got them tangled in the cloth and shroud lines, in the canopy and shroud lines, it would be signing their death warrant. With the desh engine on low, their descent slowed. The canopy above deflated a little and started to flap now that less air filled it. Gently, Tamara flexed the limbs, carefully but quickly, trying each one and feeling where the resistance lay. She quickly identified which straps were where and planned how she could burst each one. She would start at the bottom so her mech wouldn't pitch forward. She could save the ones around her knees for last since the legs would not be needed yet. With her plan formed, she started working first her right hand and then her left from their restraints. As they popped free, the straps around the chute loosened but did not separate. Loosened but still supported her mech. They started noisily flapping in the breeze, banging against metal like a crazed drummer. She wrapped her left hand around one of the straps, pulling it taut while continuing to free the other bindings with her right hand. The mech lurched as the chute straps separated. The strap in her left hand tugged taut. Only it and one other still held them. It was now or never. She tore the last strap with her right hand while letting go with her left and they tumbled free, falling away from the fluttering chute.

Just once in her training, Tamara had deployed her mech from a Zeppelin into flight mode. The feeling of dropping free as the engines and wings deployed had been the most terrifying thing of her life. That was nothing compared to this. The left engine swung out and snapped into place. Its nacelle locking firmly into position. The right one swung and then swung back, flopping in the breeze. She reached back with one hand and tugged it to full extension, trying to be gentle lest she ripped it completely from the flight pack. With a thunk, the second nacelle settled into place. She tugged the luf engine control up, slowing their fall greatly. The wings had been upside down and the sudden increase of lift flipped them end over end. She reached for the wing deployment switch. It took her two tries to reach it as the sky and ground flipped. Finally, the switch closed under her hand and she heard the electric motors whine into action. The wings were coming out. The whining groaned as wind whipped around her machine. She tugged the Luff engine control again, sliding it upward. Their tumble slowed and the whining electric motors grew louder, more confident. The right wing and then the left snapped into place. It only took her a moment to free her legs and get them locked in with the empennage and its stabilizing fins. Her mech stopped tumbling and settled into a shallow dive. All of this had felt like an eternity, but it had only taken a handful of seconds for her to realize that she had dropped clear of the bomber. The valley spread out before her, still hundreds of feet below. Still over a thousand feet below.

Tamara grinned as the motors roared to life. Now where had those damn pursuit planes got to?

In flight mode, her cannon was slung along the back of her machine, its barrel coming out a few feet in front of her by the head. The flight pack itself carried a machine gun. Tamara settled her hands on the controls, right hand on the stick and left hand holding the three levers of the luff engine and propulsion throttles.

Tamara pulled her air mech up into a climb.

As the nose pitched high and the motors started to struggle, she eased up the luff engine's setting to provide extra lift. The machine rocketed upward. There were two bombers far ahead. Another below was smoking and losing altitude. The fourth big Russian aircraft was much lower. It had broken in half and was falling to earth in a massive fireball. She caught sight of it only seconds before it slammed into the wall of the valley in a massive fireball. Her heart skipped. Had that been the plane she was in? Or one of the other girls? Had they gotten clear? She glanced quickly around. Her spirit lifted as she saw a parachute settling to the valley floor behind her. Far below and behind her. Ahead, a second chute opened. The big parachute of a mech. And then another smaller one above it. She saw the tiny specks of pursuit planes circling the last bomber. They swung around for another pass. As they lined up their guns, Tamara saw the shape drop away from the bomber. A moment later, the huge parachute opened. And then the little one with it. She gasped with relief. Everyone had gotten clear. But the pursuit planes were still there. The bomber they were attacking started spewing smoke and fire. It staggered in the air and pitched to the left. Starting a long death plunge. Any moment, Tamara expected the pursuit planes to turn on her parachuting allies. She shoved her throttles and loff control all the way up and rocketed towards the enemy.

Tamara adjusted the flying goggles on her face as wind screamed around her cockpit. The airmech shot up, gaining altitude faster than any non-magical flying machine could hope to achieve. The craft buffeted as the air ripped over the control surfaces. It couldn't take much more of this. She eased back on the lift engine, slowing her ascent from breakneck to merely speedy. Where had those pursuit craft got off to?

There had definitely been two of them, but she wasn't sure if there were more. She arced her craft over from a vertical climb to an angled ascent, balancing the lift provided by the magical Luff engine and the thrust of the twin propeller, gasoline-driven propellers. Ahead, the trail of smoke left by a burning Russian bomber left a snake across the sky. She pushed her nose forward and followed it.

A mile ahead, the big multi-engine plane was losing altitude. Off to Tamara's left, another smoke trail spiraled down to where the burning wreckage of a Russian bomber lay on the valley floor. The drifting white parachutes told her that her friends had escaped. Ahead, she caught sight of an enemy pursuit craft. It was a small biplane, but she couldn't tell what sort from this distance. Was it flown by one of Frankenstein's Golem Army, or had he employed human pilots? Not that it mattered to Tamara. Any enemy that came against her was going down.

She pulled the charging lever to prime the machine guns on her flight pack and then squeezed the trigger. One short burst. The weapons fired with a roar, letting Tamara know they were ready for battle. It was never a waste of ammunition to know your weapon was working before you closed with the enemy. Her climb had taken her above the burning bomber, and she leveled off, working stick, throttle, and loof engine controls in concert to trim the hybrid aircraft. Ahead, the enemy pursuit craft circled as if unsure whether its prey was doomed or if it needed another pass, another dose of bullets.

The nimble craft swung wide and turned to line up on the bomber. It looked like a Sopwith, but she couldn't tell what model. Tamara started a shallow dive and lined up across the path of the enemy. It didn't appear it had seen her yet. She didn't bother firing the cannon. That weapon she had checked thoroughly herself before they took off, and she knew it was ready for action. She moved her grip on the twin triggers so only the machine gun would fire. She wanted to save her cannon ammunition for the battles to come. The machine guns were fixed to the flight pack and wouldn't be useful once she got on the ground. That ammo she did not spare.

Tamara mashed the trigger and sent a stream of lead arcing towards the enemy pursuit craft. Her lead on the target was almost perfect, and her stream of bullets swept across the enemy craft. There was an instant after the bullets struck where it appeared there had been no effect on the biplane. And then the engine belched black smoke, and the craft staggered in the air. Its nose pitched up and then rolled over, plunging for the earth far below in a spiral of smoke and flame.

Satisfied, Tamara looked around, surveying the area. The bomber she had saved was still smoking as it turned away to the north. It was doubtful it would make it back to Romania, but its crew might be safe if they could make a controlled landing somewhere. One of the Russian bombers had crashed and another was far off to the north. Its altitude was lower and it also trailed smoke. It didn't look like it would be able to clear the walls of the valley. The pilot seemed to be making for the lower pass out of the valley to the north. With his dwindling altitude, he was probably better off landing and trusting the mercy of Frankenstein's monsters.

But that aircraft no longer had importance to her mission, even if she had still been loyal to the Russians she once served. Bullets whistled past her open cockpit. Tamara shoved the stick forward and dumped the lift pouch into the air. Her craft plummeted like a stone as a pursuit plane whizzed past just overhead. She reapplied the lift and pulled up in a corkscrew maneuver no conventional aircraft could hope to match.

The single-engine pursuit biplane was fast, but despite its weight, her machine with its twin propulsion engines was no slouch. She balanced the lift and shoved the throttles forward. Sending her craft rocketing after the enemy. If the Frankenstein machine had stayed level, it might have pulled away from her. In a climb, her Luff engine would outmatch it. And in a dive with the lift cut, the superior weight of her craft would propel it down more speedily than the biplane.

The Golem did none of those things, but made the even bigger mistake of turning to face her. Rolling left and then swooping around in a turn, Tamara nudged her craft up, bobbing out of line with the enemy pursuit craft, such that when it finished its turn, she was nowhere to be seen. It pulled up trying to match her climb, but didn't have the speed to maintain the climb. As the pursuit craft pushed back level to regain lost airspeed, Tamara pounced. She flipped her air mech over and dove back into the foe, machine guns blazing. The pursuit plane blossomed with fire that quickly engulfed the whole center and nose of the aircraft. It plummeted to the earth as a burning comet.

A quick check of the sky around showed no more enemy airplanes. Tamara needed to get back down to the ground and regroup with her friends. Their main objective was down there—the hulking power plant on the west side of the valley, north of Frankenstein's Fortress. If the Russians were right and that power plant supplied everything in the valley, then Frankenstein's defenses would be crippled by its destruction. But first, she had to find her Polish and Hungarian allies. The first chute she had seen had gone down somewhere in the middle of the valley. By now, that Hussar, whoever she was, and if she was okay, should be moving towards the target. The other two chutes had been closer to the power plant itself.

Tamara decided it'd be best to land there and join up with those two. The Mech in the Valley would catch up if she was able. She came in low past the power plant, angling for the white cloth she saw billowing on the ground, caught on a fence post. She spotted one of the two Polish Mechs nearby. It was up and moving. Its rider waved to her. It looked like Hannah. Tamara cut her propulsion throttle and focused her attention on the luff engine.

The process of landing an Air Mech was simple in concept but difficult to master. She cut her thrust and nosed up, using the wings to catch the air and slow her down at an angle much higher than a normal aircraft could hope to pitch. The air stalled over the wing, and she adjusted the Luff engine to take up the lost lift. With expert timing, the transition from wing lift to solely magical lift was smooth, and Tamara's Mech dropped gently, vertically, to the ground.