Iron Legion Battlebox

by David Ryker

  The jolt somersaulted me into the air and I watched as she decelerated under a canopy of white, drifting into the sky.

  The systems failure message disappeared and was replaced with one twice as bad. ‘Altitude Warning: Deploy Parachutes? Yes/No.’

  I was spinning, fighting the closing doors of darkness as the centrifugal force dragged me away from the light. I reached out, fighting it as hard as I could, with all I had left, and tapped the button.

  There was a jerk, a crack, pain, and then darkness pulsed. Something warm trickled down my nose and a bloody patch appeared on the screen in front of my eyes. I lifted my hand to my head, but it felt numb and heavy, like a crab claw. My eyes lolled and I sank back, dragging in thick, heavy breaths.

  I could see Alice above, a white dot against a brightening sky, and behind her the destroyed remnants of the Regent Falmouth entering the atmosphere.

  I tried to stay awake, but I couldn’t.

  I blinked once and felt the blood in my eyes.

  I swallowed some of it, felt it on my lips and dripping from my chin.

  And then there was nothing.

  15

  When I came to, the sky was black with smoke and the air was still, the stench of death hanging like a corpse from a tree.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and sat up, slamming into the tightened harness across my chest and rebounding back into the chair. My breath rattled in my throat, the air stifling. I was on my back, the screen on in front of me, spattered with dried blood, displaying the dark clouds above, but otherwise everything was quiet.

  I unbuckled myself and hit the button to open the hatch. It hissed and cool air rushed in. It spread to reveal a foot of cloud, but that was it. The motors whined against something and then quit.

  I sighed and reached for the bottom of the hatch, levering myself awkwardly up into the gap. I managed to get my head out, and then worm onto the top of the body, pulling my legs free.

  The air was cool, but my skin still felt hot and dry, my mouth parched, my stomach aching. I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was up, obscured behind the smoky clouds. I knew it must have been a while since we crashed, judging by the sting of hunger in my guts. My brain felt foggy, still, and the events that had unfolded felt like a distant dream. I rolled sideways and off the F-Series, realizing I was lying in a crater. The chutes were tangled in the trees above, swinging loosely. I must have hit them and snapped the cords, fallen the rest of the way, and impacted. I stared at the F-Series, half buried in the soft earth, and then at the surrounding trees, gnarled and thick with dark trunks and strange, vine-like leaves that smelled of rotting fruit. The ground was covered in moss and sloped away. I could hear water running nearby, but otherwise, I had no sense of direction or bearing. The air was still, and nothing was moving above — no ships, no artillery, no fire — nothing. Was the battle over?

  Why the hell was everything so murky? I blinked a few times and shook my head. It was hurting like hell. Splitting, in fact. I touched my fingers to it and immediately recoiled from them. “Fuck!” I half yelled, falling backward away from the pain. I stumbled and bounced in the moss, deep aches leaping through my back and legs. I gingerly felt my head again and traced the ridges of what had to be a near bone-deep gash. It ran from my hairline down to my right eye. It wasn’t a cut — an impact welt that had hit so hard the skin had burst. I screwed my face up and felt the blood caked around my eyes and mouth. No wonder I couldn’t think straight.

  I gasped suddenly, the events of what had happened suddenly solidifying. Alice. Where was Alice?

  I looked around, panicked, but there was nothing but goddamn trees. I swallowed air I was breathing so hard, and took off down the slope, kicking over trunks and through the brush.

  I found the stream and tried to clear it. My foot sank in up to the knee, but it didn’t matter. I scrambled up the bank, clawing in the loose earth, and burst out of the woods onto a rise. The landscape ahead was torn apart.

  What would have once been rolling fields and forest was now a cratered, burning crash site.

  The Regent Falmouth had fallen out of orbit, reentered the atmosphere, and crashed into the surface. It was in parts, like a dismembered whale, beached on the planet. Troop carriers weren’t designed to enter any gravitational fields, let alone land on a planet. Whatever had laid into it had torn it apart anyway, and as soon as it hit the atmospheric shell, it was completely destroyed. Everyone who was still on board was likely dead. My jaw clenched hard as I stared down at it, nothing moving except the flames slowly licking at the hull. Smoke curled off it, spouting from every orifice, drifting into the sky and amassing in a thick ceiling a few thousand feet up.

  What in the hell had attacked us? Who would even dare attack a Federation carrier? Who could?

  I screwed up my face. What did I know? I knew that we weren’t supposed to be in battle — not yet. We were headed to one, but that was months away. So what the hell happened? I remembered fire coming off the surface, and from ships. What the hell was this planet?

  I stared around, looking for any sign of Alice — for any sign of anything — but there was none. The battle was done, and there was no sign of either the Federation or whoever had the steel balls to attack them.

  I smacked my parched lips and searched the landscape for any hint of where to go next. I needed water, I needed food. I touched my head and winced. I needed medical attention. But venturing down to the crash site wasn’t something that reeked of a good idea. If we’d been attacked, then it was by someone who either wanted what we had, or by someone who wanted to put us down because we were the Federation. They were hardly short of enemies across the universe. But I suppose that’s what happens when you want to subjugate and colonize every galaxy you come across. They brought peace, order, trade, technology — but there was resistance. There was always resistance. Rebel forces and factions. Some small. Some large. They’d been documented in the Federation histories and written about in their books. I tensed my jaw and stared down at the crash site, sprawling and scorched. My fists clenched at my sides and I stared down at my jumpsuit, blood spattered, filthy from scrambling up the bank, and stretched out of shape from Alice’s fists curling into it.

  I felt a pang in my chest and the world wobbled. Alice. Where was she? How the hell was I going to find her? I turned back to the forest and stared up at the ancient trees. As I did, everything seemed to freeze. What little breeze there was died and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something flashed in my peripheral and I dived forward instinctively.

  Whatever it was whistled above me, glinting in the dim light, no more than a few inches from the back of my neck.

  I rolled forward and leapt again, my heels flicking dirt behind me. Ground spewed between my feet as an object pierced the earth, hard. I landed face down and scrambled forwards, but before I could even get to my feet, pain ripped through my back and I was crushed against the soil.

  I gasped for air, pinned down, hands clawing all around me. My back popped and threatened to break under the stress. A gurgled noise escaped my lips, and something cold came to rest against my throat. I froze. The feeling of a blade there, it was unmistakable. I dragged in a slow breath and waited for it to turn in to me and slice across my jugular, but it didn’t come.

  I could feel my heart pumping against my ribs, my cheek pressed against the moss, a tear worming its way through the dried blood.

  Footsteps echoed in my head, cutting through the melee of thoughts, slow, methodical. I saw boots, military grade, appear in front of my face. The stopped a few inches from my cheek and paused.

  “Well,” a guy laughed, his accent off-world thick. “What do we have here?”

  I swallowed.

  The guy crouched and I saw the gray trouser legs of a Federation pilot sink into view. A rifle clacked as he rested it on his knee and I felt the blade loosen against my skin just enough so that I could lift my head. I looked up at the pilot with the rifle slung across h
is lap. He had about ten years on me, wiry, his face lined and stubbled with rust-colored hair. He cocked his head. “Am I talking to myself?”

  “I… uh,” I stammered, swallowing.

  “What d’you reckon, Fish? He look like Free scum to you?”

  Gears whirred above me and hydraulics hummed. I heard the telltale hiss of a mech’s hatch opening and then the clang of boots on steel. A strange rippling noise cut the air and a second pair of boots landed next to the first, light and agile, spinning to face me. I craned my neck upward, feeling the blade still hanging next to my throat. The pilot had disembarked, and I could see the outline of a mech behind me out of the corner of my eye. Its foot was planted on my back, stuck there. It was smaller than the F-Series, by a long way — maybe half of the size. It hadn’t been there a second ago. I mean, it had, but it hadn’t. I couldn’t see it. I hadn’t seen it sneak up on me, blade drawn. It was a T-Series. A Tactical Series Federation mech — they called them Panthers, and they used them for covert ops. They were equipped with stealth cloaking tech to help them stay hidden. Safe to say that it worked.

  I looked from the human to the new pilot and paused. It was humanoid, but had blue skin — a domed head and wide lips. Its eyes were black and its nose was two slits that flared with its slow breaths. It looked amphibious, and had fins above its collar. They flickered as it stared back at me. It made a quiet gurgling noise and the rusty-haired guy snorted. “You’re telling me.”

  I didn’t understand. It was just a noise.

  “I’m Federation!” I called, as loudly as the earth against my cheek would allow.

  The guy with the gun pressed his finger to his lips. “Shh, shh. You don’t want to alert anyone else now, do you?”

  I fell quiet.

  “I asked you a fucking question,” he growled.

  “No, no, I don’t.”

  “I’m going to ask you this once, boy. Are you Free?” His voice was stiff and flat, and his finger flexed on the trigger of the rifle. I had a feeling if I answered wrongly he wouldn’t think twice about using it on me. Was I free? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  “I don’t understand.”

  He laughed quietly, genuinely amused. “No? What’s not to understand? You either are, or you’re not.” He reached down and pulled on my collar. “You’re wearing Federation Grays, but they’re a bit filthy, bloody… So the question is whether they’re yours or you pulled them off some dead Feddy... Or killed one for them. So which is it?”

  “They’re mine! They’re mine!” I whimpered, pushing my face into the moss.

  He sighed. “You sure as hell cry like a Federation pup. What Battalion are you in?”

  “I’m not,” I squeezed out under the boot of the Panther. “I’m a recruit!”

  The guy stood up and bit his lip. “Recruit?” He stared into the distance for a second. “What the hell’s a recruit doing down here?” He was asking himself as much as the one he’d called Fish. “How’d you even get here?” He looked at me again.

  “We were on the ship — it went down, and… And we…”

  He sighed, making a cyclical gesture with his hand for me to hurry up.

  I cleared my throat, spitting out dirt, and chose my words better. “There were two of us. We couldn’t reach the escape pods — we took two F-Series, and—”

  “House Cats?” He scoffed. “You’re not trying to tell me that two green-ass recruits rode two jacked House Cats right down to the surface?” He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it.” The rifle was in my face again, suddenly. “Truth, now, or I put one in your head.”

  “Please!” I mewled. “It’s the truth, I swear! It was our only chance! She was going to die!” I sobbed suddenly, uncontrollably.

  He kept the rifle on me until the fish-man took the barrel in his hand and pushed it down, staring at the first guy. He grumbled and then dropped the gun to his side. “Fish says you’re not shitting me.” He scoffed and laughed. “In that case, I think it’s time you got the fuck up, ‘cause this is a story I’ve gotta hear.”

  They let me up and watched as I brushed the caked blood off my jumpsuit.

  The one he was calling Fish climbed back into the T-Series and lifted the foot off my back. He walked around to face me, but didn’t disembark.

  The taller guy, the human, rested the rifle over his shoulder and put his other hand on his hip. He was in a pilot’s flight suit, and the name across his chest said MacAllister. I looked at it briefly, and then at him, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I could feel them flushed, even through the dirt and the blood.

  “Look,” I said quickly, “I really have to go — I’ve got to find Alice.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Alice, eh? That your girlfriend?” He elbowed the T-Series humorously, but his elbow clanged off the steel, but Fish didn’t react.

  I sighed. “No. She’s… she’s a recruit, like me. But we got… separated. She’s somewhere out there.” I cast my hand around in a wide circle and MacAllister followed it, smirking.

  “And she was in an F-Series, too? You both were?” He shook his head.

  “Yeah. Her chutes popped before mine. When they did, I hit my head,” I said, gesturing to my bloodied face. “When I came to, I was lying in a hole, and Alice was…”

  “Gone.” He nodded and stuck out his bottom lip. “Alright, well, here’s what you do.”

  I leaned in.

  “You pick yourself up,” — he smiled — “you dust yourself off,” — he lifted his hands — “and you move on.” He pushed his hands toward the horizon, smiling broadly.

  “What? Move on? What the hell are you talking about? Didn’t you hear me? She’s out there, somewhere, and—"

  “And she’s already fucking dead, kid.” MacAllister hung his head and squeezed my shoulder. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s dead. It’s a damn miracle you didn’t burn up on re-entry, and I’d love to hear all about it over a cold beer, but I’ve been a pilot for a long time now — and I’ve never heard of anyone surviving before. The fact that you did is one in a million, and you really think she did too?” He smiled abjectly at me.

  “Yes,” I answered firmly.

  His smile faded. “Look around, kid. Look at where you are. Look at what’s happened. That’s a Class 1 Federation Carrier — you know how much firepower it’s packing? You know what it takes to bring one down? And they did it. We were just passing by” — he moved his hand through the air — “this planet, supposedly uninhabited by intelligent life, save a few mining colonies here and there, and then suddenly…” He closed his fist. “Fire. Explosions. Death. We scrambled as quick as we could, but turns out that this planet was home to a hidden Free Stronghold.” He scoffed and shook his head. “They could have just let us fly by. We never would have even known they were here. But they just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They waited until we were right on top of them, and then they hit us with everything they had. Surface strikes, air strikes, you name it. And that’s the result.” He flicked his wrist at the crash site.

  I swallowed and gritted my teeth.

  “I was in a tilt-wing, gunner. We’d scrambled to fight back, but it was too little too late. We got clipped in orbit, managed to make it down to the surface, rigged up, bailed out… And now…” He turned away and stared at the horizon. “We’re getting as far away as possible. The Free are sweeping through here every hour or two, looking for survivors from the crash, rounding up those they can, killing the ones who fight back.”

  “Killing them? Why? What did the Federation ever do to them?”

  He grinned. “Shit, what are they teaching recruits these days? The Free and the Federation have been at war for centuries. Freedom fighters against the great oppression…” He laughed. “What, ain’t never heard the slogan?”

  I shook my head. “No.” This was wasting time. Too much time.

  “What I’m saying is that the battle’s lost. The day is lost. But the war isn’t over. The Federation
will be sending reinforcements. The Free are rounding up everyone they can, stockpiling all the resources they can. When the Federation arrive, they’ll look to ransom off the troops they have for credits they can use to fund their crusade. When that happens, the Federation are going to roll over them in a fiery fucking wave. The Federation don’t negotiate, trust me. You’re going to see Federation destroyers in the sky, and then everything’s going to be turned to ash. When that happens, you want to be as far away from here as you can.” He jabbed me in the shoulder. “Mark my words. We’re getting out of here, and you’re coming with us.”

  I held firm. “No, I’m not. I’m staying.”

  “Are you fucking stupid, kid?” His tone lowered.

  I didn’t know that it was a question that required an answer.

  “If you stay, you die. Don’t you get it? It’s just that simple.”

  I set my jaw for a second and stared him in the eye. “Like you said, it’s just that simple.”

  16

  I breezed past MacAlister and Fish and back up toward the stream and the forest.

  “Hey, kid, you’re not serious?” MacAlister held his hands out, rifle stretching into the air.

  “I’m not going to just abandon her,” I called through gritted teeth. “Or the others.” I paused and took a hard breath, turning. “And neither are you.”

  MacAlister snorted and looked at Fish. “Yeah, sure, like we’re going to stick around. Dunno about you, but I like my head attached to my body.”

  This guy was a bit of a prick, but time was short and if things were as they said, I was going to need all the help I could get. Fish in his T-Series would be a valuable asset. He’d almost taken my head off, and I had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t trying very hard. And MacAlister? Well, he’d been a pilot for ten years, and survived the crash himself. He was obviously hard enough to do so, and didn’t seem afraid of a fight, despite wanting to run from this one.