The Mech Touch novel Chapter 247

[Engaging dimensional and temporal neuro-translocation. Please rest in a comfortable position. Initiating in 10... 9... 8...]

"What the hell?"

[6... 5... 4...]

"What is neuro-trans-"

[1... 0... Initiating transfer!]

The world changed as if his mind had been sucked into a wormhole. He clearly felt his body being left behind as if a giant scoop pulled out his consciousness and dragged it along a distance that Ves could not even begin to describe.

Longer than expected but shorter than he thought, the wild ride suddenly ended when his mind abruptly crashed into a body.

A different body.

"Barley!" A strong smack thumped on his back. "Get your head back in gear! I know we’re up in an avalanche of dirtbags, but we can make it through! Persevere!"

Ves instinctively turned around and straightened his back. "We’ll get ’em, Captain!"

"Glad to hear it." Captain Osprey smiled at him, though he couldn’t hide the glint of bone-dragging weariness from his eyes. " Make sure your Cepth-S is in shape to deploy in the next shift. Intelligence think the dirtbags are cooking up an assault, I want to make sure my best knight is raring to go."

"Will do, sir!"

Once the captain walked away, Ves took stock of his surroundings while he nursed his aching head. Ves somehow ended up in the body of an average advanced mech pilot named Ivan Barley in the Chittering Cicada Star Sector.

"It’s over fifty years ago!"

From the memories Ves had access to, everyone fought with mechs that were two or three generations older than the modern norm. The System not only stuffed him inside a body halfway across the galaxy, it also sent him back in time, all without destroying Ves or Barley’s minds!

To say that Ves had complete control over Barley’s body would be wrong. Ves likened his current situation as a pair of images being superimposed upon each other. Barley was still Barley. Ves was still Ves. The joint entity they made up comprised of both.

"I am still Barley!" He uttered to himself. "No matter what kind of weirdness is going on, I still have a battle to fight!"

Both of them agreed to push aside their existential crisis in favor of addressing the bigger threat to their lives. The invasion of dirtbags onto their current planet.

From what Ves understood from Barley’s memories, he fought for a fairly strong third-rate state called the Exilis Domain. While it couldn’t match any of the second-rate states of the Chittering Cicada Star Sector, its relatively abundant territory transformed it into a regional bully among the other third-rate states.

Owing to its size and its wealth, the Exilis Domain frequently threw their weight around. It didn’t help that its neighboring states all consisted of piddling petty republics. The citizens often considered their territory to be the palace among the wilderness, with the surrounding states making up the dirt that borders it. Hence why everyone from the Exilis Domain called them dirtbags.

Quite predictably, the neighboring states had enough of being bullied around by the Domain and decided to form an Alliance. Faster than the Domain thought possible, the Lokis Alliance united their armed forces and formed a vast Mech Legion to hit back against their regional aggressor.

The war had dragged on for two years now. Barley fought in the war from the start, but the constant battle slowly took a toll on his mind and his mech. Currently, he’d been tasked with defending the local underground headquarters on a low priority rural planet.

Neither side commited a lot of mechs to this war zone. This slowed down the pace of battles and broke them up into smaller skirmishes as both sides wanted to preserve their mechs and supplies.

"Right now, I should check my mech."

Ves navigated the sturdy alloy corridors of the underground base. Like every other pilot, he constantly wore his piloting suit in case he needed to be deployed immediately. His suit’s climate controls already started to fail from constant use and lack of maintenance.

No one minded his odor because everyone else radiated their own stink. Besides, once he reached the mech stables, the harsh smell of metals and fuel overpowered any human scent.

"Chief!" He called out to the burly man overlooking his mech technicians from a ramp. "How’s it going?"

"It’s been better, Barley." Chief Jackson shook his head as he chewed on a stimulant. "We’ve already exhausted the supply shipment we received last week. I did the best I could to fix up your Jimmy, but I prioritized the shield arm over the sword arm."

That sounded kind of bad. His Jimenez had dueled against a swordsman mech in his last engagement. His knight received a lot of cuts trying to block the tricky sword strikes from the much more agile mech.

"I’ll take a look myself." Ves replied with a tone of resignation. "Don’t work yourself to death, chief!"

"Hah! I’d rather die from exhaustion than let the dirtbags shoot me in the head." Jackson laughed and strolled away.

From his experience on Groening IV, he knew that the maintenance department was straining its time and resources to the breaking point. They had to triage the mechs in order of importance and rank. The more expensive machines piloted by the officers got their turn first before the average mechs like his Jimenez received some attention.

When Ves reached his Jimenez, his enthusiasm deflated like a pricked balloon. Its design was bog-standard for its time, featuring the maximum amount of armor that a medium knight could carry. Along with its plain but serviceable sword and kite shield, the Jimenez had obviously been designed as a defensive knight.

"It’s a slow, lumbering moving shield."