Requiem for Tungsten Titans: Mech Troopers, #5

By Charles Eugene Anderson

In the war-torn streets of Galveston, amidst the smoldering ruins of a once-thriving city, Bandit and his squad of battle-hardened mech troopers make their last stand against the relentless onslaught of the invading forces. With their backs against the wall and their numbers dwindling, they embark on a desperate mission to uncover a secret weapon deep within the city's heart. This weapon could turn the tide of the war and save Texas from total annihilation.

As they navigate the treacherous landscape of urban warfare, Bandit and his team must forge an unlikely alliance with Jenna Carter, a mysterious local with ties to a clandestine legacy left behind by her eccentric grandfather. She reveals the existence of a long-forgotten alien technology, a devastating weapon capable of unleashing unimaginable destruction upon their enemies. But unlocking its power comes at a terrible price, and the consequences of failure could be more devastating than the invasion itself.

With time running out and the enemy closing in, Bandit must lead his squad on a pulse-pounding race against the clock to activate the weapon and turn its fury against the invading forces. But as they delve deeper into the secrets of the past, they find themselves confronted not only by the horrors of war but also by the ghosts of their pasts and the weight of the sacrifices they must make.

From the blood-soaked streets of Galveston to the haunted ruins of a long-forgotten civilization, Requiem for Tungsten Titans is a gritty, action-packed exploration of the bonds forged in the heat of battle and the lengths to which soldiers will go to protect their homeland. With each mech destroyed and each comrade lost, Bandit and his team must find the strength to carry on, even as the fate of Texas hangs in the balance.

Requiem for Tungsten Titans is a must-read for fans of Robotech, Battletech, and Starship Troopers. Strap in and prepare for a white-knuckle ride through a neo-western landscape of mechanized warfare and alien technology, where the only thing more dangerous than the enemy is the power they seek to unleash.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mad Cow Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224998005

Charles Eugene Anderson

Charles Eugene Anderson lives in Colorado. Chuck is a former teacher. He now spends his time writing, hanging out with his pup, Champ, and learning how to bake. More about Chuck at http://charleseugeneanderson.com

Book preview

ONE

DEPARTURES DELAYED...INDEFINITELY

Before their eyes lay the remnants of the once massive Dallas-Fort Worth airport, now a dystopian tableau of devastation and gloom, accompanied by the distinct aroma of aviation fuel calamity. The bones of its structure pierced the heavens in defiance of physics and design, its formerly majestic glazing reduced to a shimmering ground cover. Wisps of smoke twirled idly, swaying to the gentle wind's melody, subtly recalling the recent turmoil.

Amidst this desolate landscape, a piece of the airport's illustrious past decided to join the ground, its demise echoing across the tarmac like the world's saddest bell. Bandit surveyed the remains with the discerning eye of one who had seen too much yet somehow found space for a quip or two. It was hard to fathom that weeks ago, this was a nerve center teeming with life, now reduced to the world's grimmest connect-the-dots picture.

As the squad hunkered down by what could pass for modern art rendered in airplane parts, Frog stood in tired-stoic contemplation, the weight of the moment etched even on her helmet-covered visage. Mere feet away, Snowman pressed pause on his usual brand of humor, his calm echoing the gravity of their surroundings as he punted a distorted piece of metal.

First Sergeant Hulka stood as an embodiment of military resolve. His crewcut and square jaw, set in a stoic expression, mirrored the unwavering discipline of a seasoned soldier. The team, though visibly wearied and as fragmented in spirit as the world around them, responded instantly to his presence.

Frog's voice, however, pierced the silence, firm and clear. Fan out and search for survivors. Keep your eyes peeled – we're not alone here. Her command, resonating amidst the ruins, was a stark reminder of their purpose amidst the chaos.

The group sprung into action, navigating the mausoleum of modern travel with their well-drilled determination. Bandit moved with the silent grace of someone who had exchanged pleasantries with death more times than he could count, his rifle an extension of his grim determination. His gaze fell upon what appeared to be a desperate attempt to hail a ride share in the worst way possible – an outstretched arm reaching from beneath the rubble.

Certainly. If you'd like Snowman's dialogue to reflect a rare moment of vulnerability mixed with his usual cynicism, consider the following:

Snowman, typically the embodiment of steely nerve and sarcasm, paused as something out of place amidst the ruin caught his eye. His fingers, usually steady and sure on the trigger, reached out to retrieve a small, dust-covered stuffed toy. As he lifted it from the debris, he brushed off the remnants of the battle.

Never figured I'd be playin' the part of the hero to a bunch of cotton and fake fur, he muttered with a half-hearted chuckle that didn't quite reach his eyes. But I guess even lost toys deserve a chance at survival in this messed-up world.

He tucked the toy into his pouch with more gentleness than one would expect. Sorry, little guy. I should've seen better days, he whispered, almost to himself. There was a quiet moment where the tough facade slipped, revealing a trace of sorrow for the world that was no more.

Snowman glanced around at his surroundings and then to the fallen toy now safe in his pouch, Between you and me, when people find out I saved you and not another grenade... I'm never living it down, he said, a wry smile momentarily replacing the cynicism as he secured the keepsake and moved on, the weight of memory a new companion.

Sergeant Hulka's voice ruptured the silence, Got some live ones at the west end – Terminal 2's playing host to a couple of heat blobs.

Got it, Frog affirmed. Let's try for a 'no-kill' bonus round, team.

They orchestrated their approach, a synchronized ballet set among fragments of yesteryear. Bandit's heads-up display painted the two elusive warmth wraiths amid the debris, potential survivors clutching onto hope. Across from him, Snowman became the epitome of focus, his rifle a silent promise of safety or peril.

On Frog's silent cue, they penetrated the terminal's carcass, their presence a roar in the tomblike silence. They discovered resilience personified – a man and a woman, ragged, bloodied, but undefeated by circumstance. And Bandit, ever the joker even in the jaws of death's grim rictus, couldn't help but quip to the survivors, You folks know the airport's closed, right? No landings or departures at this time.

Bandit's eyes swept over his team, each face reflecting the day's wear and tear. The airport's desolation was mirrored in their eyes; the heavy air seemed to press upon them with an unspoken lament. Their numbers were the same, yet something felt missing as if the Texan sun had siphoned a piece of their spirit, leaving shadows in its wake.

Looks like we're all here—counting heads and making sure none of you decided to desert for a beach vacation, Bandit said, his attempt at levity falling flat against the backdrop of ruin.

Snowman shot him a look that was part wry amusement, part resignation. Beach sounds good right about now. Sun, sand, and a distinct lack of things trying to kill us.

Frog stood beside her Mantis Mech, her helmet tucked under one arm as she reviewed the data on her wrist-mounted device. Vacation's canceled until further notice, she said without looking up. We need to talk supplies.

Bandit joined her side, catching a glimpse of the dwindling numbers on her screen. So what's the verdict, Cap? Do we start rationing our smiles and jokes, too?

She finally met his gaze, her expression serious. If it comes to that. But for now, ammo and rations take priority. She gestured toward the Mantis. We can't rely on mechs alone when our packs are light.

Bandit nodded solemnly; he knew she was right. They'd been chased across state lines, their resources bled by each encounter with enemy forces and inhospitable terrain.

Alright then, he said after a moment of contemplative silence. Let's prioritize salvage ops. There might be something worth saving in this scrapyard.

Hulka stepped forward, brushing dust from his uniform with methodical strokes. We should also consider fortifying our position here. The airport has defensible structures—we need to clear out any... unwanted tenants.

Bandit glanced at Snowman, who was ever vigilant and was already scanning the horizon through his scope.

Frog sighed softly and holstered her sidearm. Let's split into teams then. Bandit, take Snowman and do a sweep for supplies—anything that can be useful or repurposed.

And you? Bandit asked.

I'll stay with Hulka and start setting up defenses around the Mantis, she replied, affectionately patting the side of her mech.

As Bandit motioned for Snowman to follow him into the heart of the airport ruins, he couldn't shake off a creeping sense of unease—like walking into a mouth that had already tasted blood.

Snowman kept pace beside him, rifle at the ready. You think we got everything out there?

Bandit shook his head slightly as they navigated through collapsed beams and shattered glass doors—the airport's skeletal remains sprawled out before them like the insides of a clock without its casing.

We won't know until we look, Bandit replied as they stepped into what used to be a duty-free shop, now stripped of its luxury and luster.

They combed through debris-strewn aisles and overturned shelves with systematic precision. Bandit picked up a bottle still miraculously sealed—an aged whiskey that had somehow survived the onslaught.

Looks like we hit liquid gold, he quipped, tucking it into his pack.

Snowman grunted in response but said nothing as he unearthed