Iron Dragoons (Terran Armor Corps Book 1)

by Richard Fox

  “—wherever I am. Not Phoenix, that’s for sure.”

  Heat from the sand burned his bare feet as he stood up. Roland found a latch on the armor’s inner left leg and stepped back as the armor plate swung open. Just beneath the servos and hydraulics of the limb, he found a bright-yellow case with a red handle.

  Pulling it free, he opened it on the ground. The emergency case held tightly packed rations, survival gear and a single gauss pistol. Taking a small roll of fabric, Roland peeled off a strip and put it on his foot like a sock, where it molded into a hard-bottomed boot. Once he had his other foot shod, he stood up and touched a control panel inside the open breastplate. The suit didn’t respond.

  “No power at all…so no commo, and the distress beacon is missing from the suit and the survival pack. Great.” Roland secured the gauss holster to his hip and attached a hose from the case to a node on his lower back, running the line over his shoulder. Fixing it beneath a clip, he took a sip of water from the end. His skin suit would recycle sweat and residual amniosis into drinking water. He didn’t want to consider the other options his suit provided to stay hydrated.

  Taking a quick inventory of the pack, Roland found a thin gauntlet beneath food packs. He slipped it over his left arm, and it came to life, showing a contoured elevation map. He tapped at the screen, but couldn’t access any other functions.

  “This again.” Roland pressed a palm to the survival pack and it changed color to match the sand. The rigid frame softened and Roland shook out a set of straps, then swung the pack onto his back. Drawing the gauss pistol, he released the magazine. The bullets were real and the weapon had a full charge.

  “Huh. A little different from last time.” He looked at the map on his gauntlet, tugged the screen from side to side with a fingertip and stopped. A road ran parallel to a mountain range, ending in a small cluster of buildings with a landing pad nearby.

  Looking to the northeast, he found the line of mountains on the horizon.

  “Maybe the town is prewar and the Xaros never got around to erasing it…or it’s new and someone will be there. Time to become a desert creature. Not like I have a lot of options right now.” He took off at a slow jog, then stopped.

  “What am I forgetting?” He looked back at the damaged armor, then snapped his fingers. Roland made a large arrow in the sand pointing toward the distant mountains and filled it in with bits of grass and rock. If someone did come across his suit, they’d know where he was heading.

  He left the suit behind at a walk, deciding to conserve energy and water. Maybe there would be a town with people and a way out of wherever he was…maybe not.

  As the sun rose higher, the heat became worse. Roland frowned at the tufts of grass and small patches of yellow wildflowers as he marched on. The flora was a far cry from the mesquite and cottonwood trees near Phoenix. A black-and-white bird the size of a crow flew in front of him and landed in the branches of a squat tree with spare branches. The bird tilted its head at Roland, then flew off.

  Roland put a hand to his pistol. Since the war’s end, much of the Earth was still unpopulated. Although humanity had fortified mountain ranges across the continents before the second Xaros assault, the migration from the cramped confines of the mountains to more traditional city locations had been slow. Every city but Phoenix was essentially recreated from scratch, and construction had been slow as the Terran government’s focus was to reestablish the solar system’s defenses from Mercury to the distant dwarf planet Eris and colonize Earth-like worlds found through the Crucible network.

  More than one person had floated the theory that the Phoenix government dragged their feet rebuilding Earth’s cities to encourage off-world migration, yet some cities had returned: Los Angeles, Seattle, Vienna, Milan, Munich, Sydney. The survivors of the war had been part of the old Atlantic Union (which included Australia for reasons no school teacher could ever explain to Roland), and those that resettled old cities went through great effort to rebuild what they remembered, choosing to have the same architecture and monuments instead of more modern buildings.

  Despite Earth’s population edging over two billion souls, much of the planet remained uninhabited. Throughout the wild spaces, the years without any human influence had led to a return of predator species. Packs of wolves and coyotes were a constant problem around Phoenix. Lions had spread through Africa and the Indian sub-continent was rife with tigers.

  Roland patted his pistol. Wherever he was, a gauss pistol was more than enough to handle any animal…assuming he saw it before it attacked. With multiple generations of a human-free environment, animals had lost their ingrained fear of people. A predator might catch a whiff of Roland and decide he was dinner, and not a danger.

  Wiping sweat from his brow, he took a break in the scant shade of a tree, fished a food bar out of the pack and looked over the wrapper.

  “Fruitcake…yum. Guess it’ll taste better as I get hungrier.” He put it back and found another bar. “Oatmeal it is.” He ripped the corner away and took a bite. After who knows how long he’d spent in the pod subsisting on the nutrients added to the amniosis, chewing his food felt a little odd.

  Through a nearby bush, a shadow moved in. Roland drew his pistol and aimed, the bar still in his mouth. At first, the animal that rose up looked like a giant rabbit, then it reared up onto its hind legs. The kangaroo wiggled its nose at him, then hopped away.

  “Australia…great.” Roland gnawed off a corner of his meal. “Bunch of poisonous snakes, giant spiders and crocodiles. Really wish I was in my rig right now.”

  He got back up as thunder boomed to the south. Dark clouds trailing sheets of rain swept across the sky and a gust of moist air promised a radical change to the weather in the near future. After consistent training with the drill instructors in the forests around Fort Knox—rain or shine—Roland accepted that Mother Nature was fickle and did as she pleased, no matter how much he cursed or prayed.

  He shouldered his pack, and froze. A set of tracks led northeast. Something with three large toes and a stubby rear claw had left deep prints near a muddy puddle. Smaller prints from feet the same shape peppered the damp soil nearby.

  “Thought crocs had five toes.” Roland looked at the larger footprint and wondered about the size of a crocodile with feet almost eighteen inches long. The rumble of approaching thunder got him moving again.

  With the storm closing fast, Roland searched for anyplace to take shelter. Spotting a knot of trees near several boulders, he changed direction. As he got closer, the smell of smoke grew. He was a hundred yards from the trees when he found tire tracks in the dirt.

  “Here we go.” Roland followed the tracks into the trees, and the smoke took on a scent of burnt meat. His uneasiness grew as he got closer. He didn’t hear an idling engine or anyone moving around inside the copse of trees. Drawing his pistol, he crouched against a boulder.

  Looking over the top of the rock, he found a jeep next to a pond. A black scar ran down one side of the vehicle, and the entire front end was burnt, pitched forward into the edge of the water on collapsed tires. The charred remains of the driver were still in the front seat.

  Roland ducked and put his finger to the pistol’s trigger. The jeep looked like it had been hit by a plasma weapon—and recently, judging by the smell and heat emanating off the wreck. He crept toward the other side of the boulder and looked again.

  His breath caught as a creature came to the edge of the pond. It was reptilian, with neon-green skin, a pointed snout and exposed needle-sharp teeth. Wearing the tattered remains of a silver uniform, it dragged a dead kangaroo to the water, then dipped its snout toward the pond. A gust of air blew from behind Roland and into the oasis.

  The creature raised its nose, sniffing. Roland ducked back behind the rock.

  Can’t be, he thought. Is that a…Toth?

  A glob of thick liquid fell onto his pistol and Roland looked up and found the Toth clutching the top of the boulder. Hissing sharply, it snapped at h
is face.

  Roland fell back and swung his pistol toward the alien. It slapped the weapon out of Roland’s hand, then leaped onto him, sharp claws biting into Roland’s shoulders and hips.

  “Meat! Meat!” the Toth spat.

  Roland bashed a fist against the Toth’s head and it squealed in pain. He pulled an arm free of the creature’s grasp just as it bit down toward his face. Roland caught the alien by the neck and squeezed.

  The Toth ripped claws down Roland’s arm, tearing the fabric of his body glove. Its hind claws slashed at Roland’s stomach, ripping furrows from his solar plexus to his waist. Roland rolled over and pinned the Toth to the ground, his grip tight around the alien’s throat and his longer arms keeping the Toth from reaching his face.

  A foot away from the squirming Toth’s head was a rock. Roland lifted the alien’s head up and slammed it against the rock, causing it to fight harder, digging a claw through his gauntlet’s screen and into the flesh of his forearm. Roland fought a scream and hit the alien’s head against the rock again. Its eyes bulged in panic.

  Lifting it higher yet, he crushed the back of the alien’s skull against the rock. Cool yellow blood spurted onto Roland’s hands, and the alien went into tremors. He tossed the dying Toth aside and found his pistol in the dirt.

  Rolling over, he aimed the weapon at the Toth, but it was still. Roland got up and gave it a kick: no reaction.

  Roland grimaced as the pain in his arm broke through the combat adrenaline. Blood dripped down his arm and off his fingers.

  “Son of a bitch.” He cradled his injured arm to his side and shrugged the survival pack off his shoulder. Abrasions up and down his torso hurt, but they weren’t bleeding. He found a spray can of Quick Clot and pulled the cap off with his teeth.

  A twig snapped behind him.

  Roland rolled to the ground and aimed his weapon straight at Cha’ril, Masako and Aignar, all in their skin suits and wielding pistols.

  Roland raised his pistol to his shoulder and sank into a patch of tall grass.

  “They never did teach us to sneak up on an armed guard at Knox,” Roland said.

  Masako found his spray can in the dirt and extended Roland’s arm.

  “We thought there were more Toth nearby,” she said. “Didn’t want to spook them too.”

  “More?”

  “We tracked the pack to here,” Cha’ril said, sniffing the air and looking at the smoldering jeep. “The menials are too small to carry a Toth blaster. There has to be a warrior out there somewhere.”

  Masako lifted the edge of Roland’s torn sleeve and a sheet of blood dripped from his wrist.

  “Don’t look at it,” she said as she stuck the nozzle into the wound. Roland snarled as a hiss of air sent smart platelets into the wound. The bleeding stopped almost instantly. He held up his hand and slowly opened and closed his fist.

  “It feels…cool,” he said.

  “That’s good. Means the artery wasn’t damaged. If it starts burning, you need a tourniquet.” Masako slapped him on the shoulder and helped him up to a sitting position.

  Aignar went to the jeep and looked into the backseat. Gripping the door with a cyborg hand, he ripped it off the hinges.

  “Why are there Toth in Australia?” Roland asked. “I thought the only place they made landfall was Hawaii.”

  “They suffered a number of casualties during their orbital assault,” Cha’ril said. “Evidently some managed to crash-land here and survive.”

  “How did no one ever notice? It’s been years since the Toth incursion,” Masako said. “Why the hell would the cadre send us all out on a survival exercise if they knew the place was crawling with Toth?”

  “Perhaps our class is too large and they needed a higher attrition rate. Voluntary or not.” Cha’ril’s quills rustled against her head.

  “Severe injury and death are never acceptable in training,” Aignar said. “You all need to see this.” He motioned toward the jeep with a nod of his head.

  “Can you walk?” Masako asked Roland.

  “A hand up, if you please.” Roland grabbed her arm with his good hand and got to his feet.

  The dead Toth’s limbs had pulled into a fetal curl. Flies buzzed nearby, but didn’t land on the corpse.

  “We found the tracks not far from here,” she said. “Cha’ril’s father was Dotari militia on Hawaii, told her a bunch of stories about hunting Toth through the entire island chain. Seems the Toth were excellent swimmers.”

  “Why were you three looking for this damn thing—especially if there’s a warrior with them? The big ones could rip us in half.” He looked at his suddenly inadequate pistol and holstered it.

  “Because of this…” Masako reached into her survival pack and pulled out a ripped piece of fabric the size of her palm. Sewn to the cloth was a bloodstained patch with a crown and rising sunburst. “Aignar says it’s Australian infantry. We found it near another jeep, crashed into a ravine and surrounded by Toth footprints.”

  “They have prisoners,” Roland said.

  “You two done over there?” Aignar called out.

  A fat raindrop hit Roland’s shoulder and he looked up as the forward edge of the storm eclipsed the sun. Rain spattered down around them.

  “There were four in the jeep,” Aignar said as Masako and Roland got closer. Masako turned away at the sight of the charred remains, one hand to her mouth.

  “Four rucks in the trunk.” The veteran tapped a metal knuckle above the rear wheel. “Most of their gear’s still in there.”

  Each of the backpacks had been torn open. Spare clothing and toiletries were strewn around the trunk.

  “They wouldn’t have left this all behind,” Roland said. “What happened?”

  “Never met an infantryman that didn’t carry plenty of pogie bait out into the field,” Aignar said. “The Toth took their food.”

  “I assume the dead one killed that marsupial.” Cha’ril pointed to the dead kangaroo.

  “That Toth wasn’t part of the group that ambushed the jeep,” Roland said. Rain fell harder, hissing as it struck the fire-blackened front end of the vehicle. “Why keep hunting if you’ve got plenty of food?”

  “Their nest must be nearby,” Cha’ril said. “My father never found a menial beyond keening range of the alpha warrior.”

  “Keening? Could your father—and could you—hear it?” Aignar asked.

  “No,” Cha’ril said, shaking her head. “He had one of the Karigole advisors with him during the hunts. They were most motivated to kill Toth and their senses were far superior to Terran and Dotari.”

  “This rain isn’t helping.” Aignar turned his face up and closed his eyes as the shower intensified.

  “There’s a town not far from here,” Roland said. “We get there, we can call for help. Get someone armed with something better than pistols to help with the search. Couple seeker drones should be all we need.”

  “I’m certain the soldiers came from that village,” Cha’ril said. “If the Toth are bold enough to strike here, they may have the strength to attack a larger target, especially if the town just lost a significant amount of manpower.”

  “Then we need to get there sooner rather than later.” Wind ripped through the trees and Roland raised an arm to shield his face as the rain came in harder.

  “Any idea how long this storm will last?” Masako ducked beneath Roland’s arm, using him as shelter.

  “We don’t have time to wait,” Aignar said. “The Toth will either take shelter or keep moving with their prisoners. They shelter, we move and get ahead of them. They keep moving, we risk falling behind by staying here.”

  Roland shook his head at his shattered gauntlet.

  “Sure hope one of you has a compass and map working,” he said.

  “I do.” Cha’ril pointed over the pond, its surface jumping as raindrops landed. “Follow me.”

  “Keep close,” Aignar said. “Too easy to get lost in this mess.”

  As the four mar
ched into the desert, Roland’s feet squishing into the mud as they went, he could see barely more than a few dozen yards ahead of them. His injured arm and hand still felt cold, like he’d forgotten to wear a glove on a winter’s day.

  “There was talk of the Dotari settling this continent,” Cha’ril said. “My father and some of the other militia scouted the eastern coast, then one of the high listers was nearly eaten by some sort of fish the size of a void fighter and another was poisoned by a water invertebrate. My father said this was a cursed land and that only the strongest humans could survive here. Now I truly appreciate the stories.”

  Thunder broke overhead and Roland reflexively hunched his shoulders. Aignar seemed undisturbed.

  “Aignar, how much of you is metal?” Roland asked.

  “Why?”

  “Lightning.”

  The veteran lifted a hand to his face.

  “Down! Keep them down!” Masako shouted. “You’re enough of a lightning rod as it is without tempting fate.”

  “Cha’ril,” Aignar said, “can you go faster?”

  “Can you keep up?” The Dotari hurried into a run, her feet splashing through puddles.

  ****

  The rain had lessened to a sprinkle once they found the town. Most of the buildings were single-story and 3D-printed from concrete. A single taller building with large garage doors was at the bottom of a cul-de-sac connected to a paved road leading north.

  Roland ducked through a barbed-wire fence and crouched in waist-high grass running along a stream almost ready to spill over its banks. Aignar knelt in the grass, his eyes locked on the town.

  “No movement,” the veteran said. “No lights. Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like it’s been attacked,” Roland said.

  “You want to go knock on a door and see if a Toth answers?”

  “Not really, but what if it is full of aliens? There’s a road, but who knows how far we are from the next settlement.”