Humanity's Greatest Mecha Warrior System-Novel

An hour later the Abraham Kepler was resoundingly empty, with only the final fading Echoes of boots in metal decking to remember the old crew by.

The barracks had been painted, the equipment transferred and the entire crew had been moved to the parade grounds to send off the departing troops.

Two groups stood facing each other, one of them young and hopeful, the order battle-worn, with the hard stares of seasoned veterans that have only begun to fade after a month in transit. Adapting to civilian life will not be easy for most of these men and women, but the faint smiles on their weathered and scarred faces say they are eager to try.

The size imbalance between the two forces is enormous, with the new crew outnumbering the old by ten to one, and the eyes of the recruits are darting between the faces of the veterans and the Mecha that have been assembled outside the ship to see them off.

Max and Nico were chosen for honor guard duty, with Stalwart and Tarith’s Rage standing to either side of the loading ramp, where the two Generals from the army as well as the Admiral in Command of the Abraham Kepler are standing between them on a raised podium.

There is a shield generator under the podium in case of attack, as suicidal as that notion might be. Plus, this planet views the tribute as an honor that relieves their burden of taxation, and the thought of doing something today that might make their tribute requirements even higher is unfathomable to most of them.

General Mons, Pilot of the Carpe Noctem, takes to the microphone with a single graceful stride.

[Today, we welcome home the forty-second deployment from Kepler 111. They have served as true heroes of our great Empire, and have been granted the right of retirement as a whole._.

While the price they paid was great, know that these Heroes liberated seven worlds from invasion and two more from the tyranny of traitors who would have seen their own worlds die for power.

As an additional benefit for their gallantry, Central Command has approved lifelong pensions at twice the standard rate.]

General Mons pauses there for the cheering to fade. Command had kept the extra pay a secret from the troops for just this reason. They get a morale boost among both the veterans and the civilians that have come to watch, plus the low number of survivors means it is still within the budget set when they departed a decade ago.

A stout woman in her later middle years with bright pink hair takes the stage next as a representative of the local government. Her dress is immaculately designed and fitted, but the gaudy jewels she paired with it ruin the sense of elegance about her in Max’s mind.

She gives a long-winded speech about duty and sacrifice, how everyone on the planet has “buckled down and pitched in to get through lean times, with the help of these returning heroes”, her overly long nails and delicate skin saying she has done no such thing.

By the time she has finished congratulating her government’s current administration, even Max was contemplating how much trouble he would be in if he just shot her.

After that, the recruits salute the veterans, and the 43rd Armored as well as the 43rd deployment of the Kepler 111 First Field Army are sworn in.

The Generals return to the ship and the soldiers are dismissed, with the last to move being Max and Nico who march their Mecha over to where a unit matching their color scheme has been assembled.

The recruits were sent back to barracks until the equipment is loaded, but a number of retiring soldiers are hanging around the unit, admiring the sleek and organic lines of the Comorian-designed light mecha.

“Looking at them up close, they are light and agile like a scout Mecha, but the spec says they are as Armored as a standard Corvette. Not bad at all.” Nico declared as she scanned the units with the sensors of Tarith’s Rage.

Their three new Crusaders are there as well. Bulwark, Ferrus, and Morning Glory are all Redemption Pattern Crusaders like Stalwart, and they had been fully refurbished before they were brought to a high shine.

Including his unit, they will have nearly a hundred Crusaders on board Abraham Kepler after this, with half the Pilots having never fired a round in anger. Noctem Regiment is experienced now, as are all five in Max’s unit, but every single Crusader pilot of the 43rd has zero practical experience. Even their commanders.

For their sake, Max hopes they are deployed beside someone else their first time out.

Max waits until the maintenance crew from the Abraham Kepler comes to load the new units and surprisingly Corporal Fritz comes out to see them. He is part of the ship’s crew, so he still has some time left in his tour, but even a single familiar face is good to see today.

“I am sure you guys know your hanger. If the rookies can stop drooling on the controls you can put them away.” He laughs, referring to the three who are getting better acquainted with their new Crusader Class partners.

The fresh recruits from Kepler 111 don’t know it yet, but they will be meeting their Commanders promptly at two in the morning once the equipment is loaded. This timing keeps them from running off and partying in the early morning, as many of the youths are sure to want to do on their last few days at home.

The other four officers meet Max back on the parade grounds at half-past one in the morning, along with dozens of rookie officers, who look like they still need to psych themselves up for this.

“Relax before you soil yourself.” Vincente laughs, patting a nearby First Lieutenant on the back.

He is an infantry officer, fresh from the academy and barely 18 years old. He clearly advanced due to the fifty point total System bonus recently, his face still shows signs of puberty which will vanish only a few months after reaching the first rank. Or it is possible he still hasn’t reached a total of fifty points and that is naturally bountiful acne paired with his scraggly mustache.

Most of these officers are also very small by Max’s standards. By the time he met the 42nd, their numbers were pretty depleted, so Max didn’t realize how short the men of this world are. 165cm seems to be average, whereas Max finished growing at 183cm. They’re also half his width, almost dainty.

“Hey Nico, you finally fit in.” Max jokes and his executive officer gives him a rude gesture.

“The shortest woman is 153cm, I checked. It’s just that their men are a bit cute.” She laughs, making all the nearby men glare at her.

Ari wraps her arm around a Corvette Class pilot from the 43rd Armored and gives him a sly wink.

“Who says we don’t like the cute ones?” She’s only a few centimeters taller than her target, but her arms are larger and more defined, thanks to all the recent training, making her look much more imposing.

“Captain Ari, be kind to the other Pilots. Kepler law says you can’t bed them by force, even if they are cute.” Max admonishes her, making the Lieutenant’s commanding officer, a Major in his early 20s, burst into laughter.

“Let me guess. Veteran Special Forces?” The major asks.

“Stalwart Special Tactics Team,” Ari replies casually and the man’s eyes open wide in appreciation.

“A word of advice, Lieutenant, the women who make Special Tactics are scary. You should be running by now.” The Major stage whispers and the young man flees from Ari as fast as his legs will move.

[Move out] comes the signal to the officer’s smart devices, and everyone begins the jog to their respective unit’s barracks.

Max and his officers rush to their unit’s barracks, kicking the door open as Paul begins shouting.

“UP UP UP! Get going you bunch of grots.” The swarthy captain shouts, making Max wonder what a Grot is.

The Pilots are up in seconds, with the infantry only a little behind them. They all move to stand at the foot of their beds and Max smiles at the new Captain Catan, who clearly expected this and was sleeping in uniform, stepping into his boots and pulling his hat on while the others line up in their skivvies.

“Good morning everyone. I am Major Keres Max, Commander of the Stalwart Special Tactics Unit. It will be my pleasure to introduce you all to the joys of front-line combat. Rest assured, I have read every one of your files and have great expectations for you.

These three will be your team leaders. Captain Ari, Captain Paul, and Captain Vincente. Beside them is Major Nico, the unit’s executive officer. New to our officer corps is Captain Catan, who has very big shoes to fill as the infantry Captain.” Max announces before handing the Captain the letter that was written by his cousin.

“You have fifteen minutes to get dressed and grab your bags before we head out for your new barracks aboard the Abraham Kepler,” Nico announces, clicking the timer on her wrist device.

Being fresh from the academy, these soldiers are used to timed drills and being graded on everything they do, so they hurry to get squared away. After a great deal of shoving and shouting, they do all manage to get finished on time and Max sends Paul and Vincente down the row with boxes full of the black berets that mark a Special Tactics Unit, with Nico and Ari following behind to collect their old blue ones.

“Now move out. If any of the infantry units beat you to the ship everyone is going on double training starting today.” Nico calls, opening the double doors for Max to lead his men to their new home.