First We Take Manhattan by Mina MacLeod Page B
Authors: Mina MacLeod
Tags: Sci-Fi, M/M romance
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flexibility. They don't have the extra mass to withstand a missile strike to a shoulder joint, but they can brake and skid around a corner without sailing into a brick wall. Their cockpits are still comprised of mechanical dashboards, because good old metal and circuitry remains more reliable than holographic interfaces.
They're good mechs, and they need good pilots. A mech is an extension of its pilot: taller, stronger, faster—but still one with him. It isn't like driving a car or piloting a cruiser. A mech moves how a person moves, and the pilots have to account for its assets as well as its limitations. MED is its own division for a reason.
"You think of a name for your mech yet?" Dave asks. The question startles Gabe out of his contemplation. He listens more closely to the comm.
"I've been trying." Jed is moving much easier now that he's being mindful. "Nothing comes to mind, though."
"Maybe after your first arrest. That's how I named Stonewall."
"Why do I sense a story, there?"
"Don't encourage him," Gabe pleads. "It's the kind he has to show and tell, if you catch my drift."
Dave laughs. "Over drinks, then."
They move along 42 Street, Jed leading the way with Gabe and Dave close behind. They march their Enforcers single-file, even though nobody is around. Gabe keeps an eye on his own dash out of reflex, but all signs are normal.
They round a corner onto a busier street, drawing some curious glances from the onlookers. Jed asks, "So how come they say this sector is middle of it all?"
"Because it is," Dave says. "We're right smack in the center of the megacity. By extension, we're sandwiched between a lot of other things, too. Like the Diamondbacks."
The comm crackles when Jed exhales too heavily. "So it's true? That gang is still one of the big players?"
"Always has been. They may be disorganized, but they didn't come out on top of the Gang Wars by looking pretty."
Gabe makes a face. "We're positive they're part of the drug trafficking ring we've got. No proof, though; the thing about being scattered about means you're harder to track down. The detectives have people on it, but, well …" Gabe trails off with a shrug.
"The detectives have people on everything," Dave goes on. "That's something else that hasn't changed, Private. The NYPD is bogged down with too much crime to handle. Blue-collar, white-collar, organized, juvenile—you name it, we've got our fair share. We're a twenty-four/seven operation, and we can barely manage to make a dent in it. But we try. It's all we can do."
Gabe clears his throat, feeling the serious tone in the air. "Regretting your decision yet, rookie?" he asks in an attempt at levity.
Jed tries to joke back, but his heart clearly isn't in it. "If anything, hearing that just makes me think this was the right career move." The jovial mood is lost.
Fortunately, that's when Dispatch chooses to interrupt. Their comms chime with the incoming signal before opening a channel for their squad. "Archangel, do you copy?"
"Go ahead, Lisa." Gabe is already sweeping his dash, flicking switches and readying Archangel to deploy.
"We received a call concerning a robbery in progress on 53. GPS shows you're the closest."
"We're on it." Through his canopy and his monitors, Gabe can see Stonewall and Jed's Enforcer copying his motions. "Suspects armed?"
"1724 53 Street, Winston's Jewelers. Suspects armed and operating rogue mechs."
"What?" Jed sounds flabbergasted.
"Proceed with caution. We're sending back-up."
"Let's move," Gabe orders, hitting Archangel's thrusters. He sails past Jed, taking the lead. He flicks the switch for his siren. It starts blaring, a classic wailing sound that causes people to move aside to this day. There are no flashing red and blue lights, but an Enforcer ripping down the streets tends to get noticed.
"Mind your heat sink," Dave reminds Jed again.
A quick glance at his monitors shows Gabe that Dave and Jed are a few feet behind him. He makes the turn onto
They're good mechs, and they need good pilots. A mech is an extension of its pilot: taller, stronger, faster—but still one with him. It isn't like driving a car or piloting a cruiser. A mech moves how a person moves, and the pilots have to account for its assets as well as its limitations. MED is its own division for a reason.
"You think of a name for your mech yet?" Dave asks. The question startles Gabe out of his contemplation. He listens more closely to the comm.
"I've been trying." Jed is moving much easier now that he's being mindful. "Nothing comes to mind, though."
"Maybe after your first arrest. That's how I named Stonewall."
"Why do I sense a story, there?"
"Don't encourage him," Gabe pleads. "It's the kind he has to show and tell, if you catch my drift."
Dave laughs. "Over drinks, then."
They move along 42 Street, Jed leading the way with Gabe and Dave close behind. They march their Enforcers single-file, even though nobody is around. Gabe keeps an eye on his own dash out of reflex, but all signs are normal.
They round a corner onto a busier street, drawing some curious glances from the onlookers. Jed asks, "So how come they say this sector is middle of it all?"
"Because it is," Dave says. "We're right smack in the center of the megacity. By extension, we're sandwiched between a lot of other things, too. Like the Diamondbacks."
The comm crackles when Jed exhales too heavily. "So it's true? That gang is still one of the big players?"
"Always has been. They may be disorganized, but they didn't come out on top of the Gang Wars by looking pretty."
Gabe makes a face. "We're positive they're part of the drug trafficking ring we've got. No proof, though; the thing about being scattered about means you're harder to track down. The detectives have people on it, but, well …" Gabe trails off with a shrug.
"The detectives have people on everything," Dave goes on. "That's something else that hasn't changed, Private. The NYPD is bogged down with too much crime to handle. Blue-collar, white-collar, organized, juvenile—you name it, we've got our fair share. We're a twenty-four/seven operation, and we can barely manage to make a dent in it. But we try. It's all we can do."
Gabe clears his throat, feeling the serious tone in the air. "Regretting your decision yet, rookie?" he asks in an attempt at levity.
Jed tries to joke back, but his heart clearly isn't in it. "If anything, hearing that just makes me think this was the right career move." The jovial mood is lost.
Fortunately, that's when Dispatch chooses to interrupt. Their comms chime with the incoming signal before opening a channel for their squad. "Archangel, do you copy?"
"Go ahead, Lisa." Gabe is already sweeping his dash, flicking switches and readying Archangel to deploy.
"We received a call concerning a robbery in progress on 53. GPS shows you're the closest."
"We're on it." Through his canopy and his monitors, Gabe can see Stonewall and Jed's Enforcer copying his motions. "Suspects armed?"
"1724 53 Street, Winston's Jewelers. Suspects armed and operating rogue mechs."
"What?" Jed sounds flabbergasted.
"Proceed with caution. We're sending back-up."
"Let's move," Gabe orders, hitting Archangel's thrusters. He sails past Jed, taking the lead. He flicks the switch for his siren. It starts blaring, a classic wailing sound that causes people to move aside to this day. There are no flashing red and blue lights, but an Enforcer ripping down the streets tends to get noticed.
"Mind your heat sink," Dave reminds Jed again.
A quick glance at his monitors shows Gabe that Dave and Jed are a few feet behind him. He makes the turn onto
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