Age of Clank

“Get a move on, you bastards! Those Clanks won't move themselves!” The day started like it always had. Our Clanks were starting up as slowly as they always did, the old hardware protesting as the others got them to move. Most of them were Mech Marines, the main frontline Clank of the Independents' Coalition. Two 50-calibre chainguns, one on each arm, and an anti-aircraft gun for the main head-mounted weapon, they were a fairly good choice for the less distinguished soldiers on the field.

“Colonel, we know! Thor and Odin are being stubborn, as is Helios. Their firmware is taking a bit to boot up, so don't get your panties in a bunch!” Michael 'Jigsaw' Finnigan, my second in command, he was always complaining about something. Sometimes it was weapon jams when we tested the motors on the chainguns, other times it was Thor refusing to do what we asked of it. Did I mention the Clanks have a limited Artificial Intelligence? Jigsaw named his Thor. His loadout was always a chaingun loaded with HEAP rounds for a right arm, his left arm a powerful Shock Fist, useful for taking on those pesky Vanguard tanks the World Trade Organization always fielded. Vanguards were the bane of most infantry, and Mech Marines, with their heavy assault cannons blasting HVAP rounds into our arms and blasting off our weaponry.

“Jigsaw, the Colonel doesn't have time to deal with your excuses! Just get the mainframe up and they'll play along.” Hugo 'Reaper' Smith, our weapons specialist. That man could build anything, from anything. I swear, this one time, he built an entire chaingun from nothing but a tank motor and spare pipes. His loadout was a Missile Pod for a left arm, a Battle Cannon for a right arm, armed with 145mm shells. His Clank was Helios, the most well-behaved of the three.

“Just make sure that Odin behaves. I don't like it when it decides its time to go exploring.” My name? To most, I am the Colonel, though my men know me as Colonel Jacob 'Long Haul' Miller. I prefer the standard loadout for the Mech Marines, simply because why should I fix what was never broken? I preferred the explosive HEAP rounds to the more readily available HVAP rounds, which my Clank, Odin, preferred as well.

As soldiers of the Coalition, we were always under orders to protect the interests of the ruling party, even though there was only one party anyways, since we were always under attack, be it either by the WTO, or by the Shogunate. Jigsaw preferred fighting the WTO, while Reaper preferred fighting the Shogunate. I preferred not fighting at all. They were both insane, but I guess that is what made us so good at our jobs.

The mission, for the day, though, was to investigate some strange phenomenon that had flared up on the Wide-spectrum array for the local outpost. As Mechies – that would be the nickname for us Mech Marine pilots – we were the scouts, as Mech Marines could cover a grand amount of distance much quicker than most of the other types we could use.

“Command gave us a special mission today. Some strange signal popped up, around fifteen clicks from here, and we're supposed to check it out. Reaper, Jigsaw! They said we could get some better Clank equipment, and maybe a few new recruits if we don't flub it up!” Reaper said nothing, while Jigsaw laughed. No matter what I said, that crazy laugh always came.

“And they expect us to just walk in there? That's almost on the border to the WTO's territory, and while they are a hoot to fight, we're not all that well-equipped for fighting any of their three-man Clanks.” Yeah, a three-man Clank. The three-men types were nefarious as they had a pilot who also controlled the head-mount, and one gunner on each arm. They got them to work, though, and that was the frightening part.

“Jigs, no one's expecting us to just walk in. They're probably expecting a larger Clank, like one of the Atlas four-man types. You know, the massive one's that are like, I don't know, four stories high?” Reaper held his hands apart, trying to emphasize the enormity of the Atlas type. He was always exaggerating, but the Atlas was certainly tall. It had to be to incorporate four Clank pilots.

“Reaper, just get yourself clicked in. Worry about that later.” What Jigs meant by clicked in was, well, something quite different than what most people would assume. Clicking in was interfacing with the Clank, making sure that you were communicating effectively. To increase our interface factor, engineers had replaced our legs with cybernetic versions. They could come off, however, and the Clank would wire directly to the cybernetic sockets on the pelvis. Thor and Helios bent down, their cockpits opening and revealing mechanical arms to remove their prostheses and link them in. I could see them flipping their switches to warm up the servomotors, the lights inside blinking as they warmed up. Odin knelt down, his cockpit opening up to allow me inside. The mechanical arms disconnected my legs, pulling me into the cybernetic socket where I would be connected to the legs of the mech itself, the nerve endings being the command to move.

“All right. Thor's online.”

“Helios, locked and loaded. Oh, online.” They checked their weapons, missiles from Helios' missile pod arming with blinking red warheads, and bullet belts for Thor's HEAP chaingun snaking out from behind it.

“Remember, ladies. Limited ammunition for the bigger battery. That means one reload for your missile pod, Reaper. Be careful with your HEAP rounds. Wouldn't want to shred Jigsaw now, right?” Jigsaw and Reaper chuckled as their Clanks finished the startup. As Odin finished its startup, a holographic screen lit up in front of me, as if I was actually viewing the outside. New pilots would think it was a part of the software of the Clank, but in reality, it was a part of the cybernetics they put into the pilots. It helped immensely, and our Clanks were customized to fit our individual talents as well.

“All right, Long Haul. Yo, Jigsaw! You get in between me and the colonel! I'm better for long range!” The clanking of the metal 'shoes' of the Mech Marines was muffled only slightly by the insulated cockpits we all sat in. Reaper had various trinkets taken from defeated Clanks, a nut, a bolt, or a nameplate from the Clank's core. Jigsaw had various pictures taped to the free areas of his Clank. I had small action figures from the various towns we had visited. Sometimes we would get a memento from the locals wherever we fought, and it really did not matter what side you were on. Many people were used to the daily life of war, and they did not care if it was WTO, or Coalition, or Shogunate. Battles were fought on open fields, usually far from civilian settlements. Even during engagements, soldiers were respectful of one another, even though the Shogunate was quite... barbaric in how it dealt with enemy Clank pilots.

We marched as we always did, myself in the front, Jigs in the middle keeping his chaingun ready for anything, and Reaper taking up the rear, making sure we were not attacked from behind. While the larger forces – the Coalition, WTO, and Shogunate – were respectful, bandits had plied the area between towns and bases, often attacking Clanks purely for sport, even though they almost always had no chance of winning. Outdated non-cybernetic Clanks, dilapidated Guardian tanks, the predecessor to the Vanguard, and faulty anti-Clank launchers, it added up to a problem that they caused for themselves.

“Coming up on the target location, starting sensor- whoa! Colonel, you getting this?” Reaper had begun his scanning sweep, and I saw the blips too. Something incredibly powerful was creating a major disturbance nearby, along with a few minor disturbances on a lower band. I was about to investigate when something tripped my proximity sensors, the beeping going nuts until I looked down. At my feet was what appeared to be a lost pet – locals always seemed to lose them. That one had a hat like a magician, and a cape, which glittered with stars. It was like it was a stage performer of some sort. That was... until it decided it could speak.

“Who dares disturb that which is Great and Powerful?” Gingerly, I stepped around it, trying not to plaster it on the ground in a red smear. I was about to continue on when it appeared again, right in front of me.  A bright flash had occurred, or at least, that's what the visual sensors were blaring at me.

“Do not ignore Trixie, monster! I shall-” I stepped over it that time, completely ignoring it. Jigsaw looked in my general direction, moving closer to investigate.

“Sir, what on Earth is that thing?”

“Looks like a pony. You know, petting zoo thing?” Odin knelt down, reattaching my legs as I was lifted out. Reaper and Jigsaw quickly followed suit, their Clanks moving to take up defensive positions. The pony – Trixie, it called itself – glared at us as if we had mocked it somehow.

“So, let me get this straight. This thing is the strange phenomenon? I don't buy it. I mean, a nuclear weapon could have set it-”

“Reaper, there's no uranium left on Earth, remember? All used up in building reactors?” Reaper sighed. Jigsaw was indeed correct. I interjected before they could start arguing about who was right.

“Reaper, Jigsaw, quit the banter. We've got a lost pet-”

“Pet?! The Great And Powerful Trixie is no ape's pet!” I feigned being wounded, eliciting a chuckle from Jigsaw, while Reaper took a keen interest in why it was sky blue.

“I'm so hurt. Quickly, fetch me a fainting couch!” Odin stood behind me, standing at attention. “Odin, pick me up. Reaper, you're on point. Whatever that phenomenon was, it cannot have gotten far.” I was quickly reinserted into Odin, the screen coming online again. “Jigsaw, you're looking after little Miss Prissy Pants here. I have to call this in-” Almost as soon as the final sentence began to leave my mouth, shells rained down on the area we were in. Thor had already picked Jigsaw up, plugging him in quickly.

“We've got contacts! Enemy Clanks, ten o'clock!” Reaper was already on top of it, his Battle Cannon blazing while his Missile Pod locked onto the leg joints of the Clank. My view zoomed in, revealing a Ceres-type, one of the three-man Clanks the WTO fielded. “They must have seen the disturbances too!” Jigsaw was standing in defence of the little blue pony, keeping himself in between the pony and the enemy Clanks.

“Come on, you bastards! This Mech Marine's tougher than your grandmother! Ow! Okay, not that tough!” Reaper was hard pressed to keep them at bay, while I could not even get a clear shot.

“Jigsaw, pick up the pony and put it inside your cockpit!”

“Sir?”

“Just do it!” Jigsaw knelt down, his Shock Fist unfurling so he could lift the pony into his cockpit. Odin was hurting bad enough that I could feel it.  His movements were becoming more sluggish as the skirmish wore on. Jigsaw was about to point out something to me when the pony, Trixie, commandeered his radio.

“Just what is going on?! Who are you, and why am I with this crazy ape?! And what- oh, sweet Celestia!” She must have noticed the two other Ceres-types exiting the forest, as the noises I heard meant she was hiding somewhere in Jigsaw's cockpit.

“I don't know, but we've got bigger problems! We've got three WTO Clanks! And they've got anti-Clank launcher infantry in support!” Anti-Clank launchers. They were the bane of any good Clank pilot, the special warhead designed to superheat and melt joints, toppling a Clank so that others could strip it apart and murder the pilot.

“Come on, you apes, you wanna live forever?” With that, I began to speed away as fast as the Mech Marine would take me, which was faster than the Ceres-types could run. Reaper was on my left, his Battle Cannon destroyed and his Missile Pod smoking. Jigsaw was not fairing much better. He had lost his main offensive weapon, his chaingun, and he could not use his head-mount without dropping his anchors – anchors being metal rods to absorb recoil, in the form of rigging a Clank into its terrain, preventing the recoil from throwing it backwards.

“You boys see that ridge?” A new voice had come over the radio, sending chills down my spine. I swallowed before responding.

“The one a click and a half away?” The voice cleared its throat, the glee evident in its voice.

“Then get ready for the party, because-” I shut off my radio to stem the verbal tirade of the local division leader, Elizabeth 'Big Bertha' Jones. Her Clank, the eponymous 'Big Bertha,' stood proudly, its twin rail cannons primed and ready. Although it was a Mech Marine, Bertha had modified it to fire much more powerful shells than it had originally been designed for. Flicking back on my radio, I sighed.

“You quite done, Bertha? Mind taking these nuisances off our backs?” A long laugh filled the radio as twin beams of light rocketed away from the ridge, slamming into the Ceres-types. Even though it did not penetrate, it did topple them, stunning them for a short bit.

“Nice shot!”

“Big Bertha never misses.” Trixie once more hopped on the radio, irritating me and Jigsaw with her high-blown attitude.

“Listen here, you hussie! The Great And Powerful Trixie, while not thankful to many, is thankful to you!” That stunned Bertha into being quiet, a feat I myself had never accomplished. I was about to start applauding when Bertha piped in.

“Pack it up boys. You've got some explaining to do.”