Iron Legion Battlebox

by David Ryker

  She pressed her lips into a line and held her hand out. “It’s alright, soldier. If it’s worth anything,” she sighed, dropping to a whisper, “it’s more fun down here, anyway.” She broke into a smile and I took her grasp, shaking.

  “Humph, looks like.” I shook my head. “I’m just a little annoyed I never got to pilot a rig of my own.”

  She spread her hands. “Aren’t we all? And yet we go on. I’ve managed to survive. You will, too.”

  I thought about that seven percent. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Come on, sit down. Get something to eat, you look a little peaky.” Her smile was warm.

  I nodded slowly and followed her. I felt meek all of a sudden, like a child following his mother. Guess four months of getting shunned and bullied would do that to you. A warm smile felt like a hug. I think I would have burst into tears if she’d actually hugged me.

  She stopped near a table and turned. I looked down to find her hand on my chest, fingers long, hands weathered. “Hey, I know it hurts now, but it’s okay. It’s not so bad down here.” Her smile wavered and her hand balled slowly into a fist. She knocked it gently against my sternum once, caringly, almost. “You’ll get used to it.”

  I looked down, unable to meet her eye. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  I headed back upstairs just before six. I figured I could pack and get out of my dorm by the time everyone finished the exam, and then slip down to the lower decks. Everett had introduced me to the admissions officer, a guy by the name of Hamer. He promised to put me up somewhere decent when I did get hooked as they called it, in what was known as a two-man, as a favor to her. A dorm with two beds in it. A little more comfortable than the larger rooms. She seemed popular — not as stuck-up as the officers on the upper deck. They were a little more grounded, it seemed. Living by that seven percent, it was hard to hold yourself above anyone else. Ninety-three out of every one hundred in this room would die on the next world they landed on. It was hard to look down on people when that was the reality. I’d thanked him for it, and her, and promised to keep my head down. They’d both wished me well, and told me they’d see me soon, and as I made the journey back upstairs, suddenly I didn’t feel so shitty about it.

  I was stuffing the last of my socks into my bag when there was a knock at the door. I looked up and froze, staring dead at the last person I expected to see.

  “Alice,” I said breathlessly, standing straight, a sock draped over my fingers.

  She stiffened at her name. Everyone called her Kepler. I realized then that I’d heard her ask me to call her that less than twelve hours ago, but she’d asked me to weeks ago — maybe months. “Maddox,” she mumbled, lingering at the door frame, half in, half out, her hand on it, fingers tight, knuckles white. She looked torn up.

  “You’re out early.”

  “We, uh — finished the mission — ahead of time.” She was trying not to sound proud, but she had no reason not to.

  I forced a smile. “You pass?” My voice sounded strained in my ears.

  She nodded. “You?” She asked it, knowing the answer.

  I didn’t respond to the question. “What’s up?” I held the sock in my hand, curling it in my fist before I shoved it into the bag.

  “I…” She trailed off. “I just wanted to call in, and…” She didn’t seem to have the words. But it didn’t matter. I’d never see her again. None of it mattered.

  “It’s fine.” I sighed. “I’m glad you passed. You’ll—” I paused, staring at her. She looked uncertain, tired, drawn. The sim had been hard on her. I couldn’t imagine how she felt after twelve hours under. It’d felt like I’d been up for a week straight when I came out after a few seconds. “You’ll make a great pilot.”

  A smile flickered across her face. I looked away and kept packing.

  She started again, but didn’t come into the room. “That night, in the forest, it was… You stopped.”

  “What?” I pulled the drawstring on my bag tight.

  “You stopped. Everyone else kept running. But you stopped. I tripped, and—”

  “You didn’t trip.”

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Jonas shoved you. I saw it,” I growled.

  She stared at me, desperately willing herself to laugh it off. “Jonas was— ”

  “Hightailing it, like we all were. He shoved someone else, too, before that. Threw me aside, and then shoved you into that tree.” I didn’t give two shits anymore. He could fuck himself for all I cared, and there was no way I was going to let her go out there — for real — without knowing exactly the sort of person he was. “He was shit scared, and he put you down to save himself.” I sighed. I thought I’d have a well of anger to draw from, telling her, but I didn’t. I just felt tired of it all. I was looking forward to heading down, maybe to my death, maybe to a new life. Who could say?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “I just thought you should know,” I muttered.

  She stared at the ground for a few seconds, and I took that as my cue to leave. I put my bag on my shoulder and headed for the door. When I reached it, she hadn’t moved an inch. I stopped to see if she would, but she didn’t, she just looked up at me, eyes shining. Humbleness didn’t come easy to her, but it did suit her. She looked beautiful, framed there. Genuine. Real. Honest. I felt a pang in my chest that I’d never get to see it again.

  “I’m going to go before anyone else shows up,” I almost whispered. “I don’t really think there’s any need to hang around.” I forced another smile, and even managed an abject laugh. “Guess you got your wish after all, huh?”

  She turned to look at me, still not moving. “No, I didn’t. You… you saved my life in there. If you hadn’t, it’d be me that would have failed. I’d be the one packing my bags.”

  I shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t, you didn’t, and you’re not. Honestly, Al—” I corrected myself. “Kepler, don’t worry about it. I never belonged here anyway.”

  She swallowed and bit her lip. Whether she was looking for more words I couldn’t say, but I wasn’t going to stand around drowning in silence.

  I got a couple of steps down the corridor before she called out. “Maddox, wait—”

  I turned to face her and she stepped into the corridor, pale in the halogens. “What is it?”

  “Thanks.”

  I nodded. “Don’t mention it.” I spread my hands. “My own fault, really, right? Nice guys finish last and all that.”

  “I was wrong about you,” she said quietly. “I treated you like shit, and I… I was a real jerk about it. Got you bullied. Got you beaten up. Got you killed.” She shook her head and pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You know, down there, in the sim, there were times, you know, when things were crazy, where we needed to rely on each other, and every time, the guys I was with — soldiers — my troop — they weren’t there. They weren’t reliable. They wouldn’t have done what you did. You threw yourself in front of that thing for me without even thinking.”

  “That’s sort of my specialty.”

  She smirked. “It was stupid, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. I do.” I sighed, thinking about what I’d resigned myself to, and for what.

  “So why’d you do it?” She stepped closer to me now, lips a little parted. I could hear her breathing, shallow. She looked tired. She could barely stand up. It’d been a long day for me, and a long few months for her. I couldn’t believe she was even here, and not laid up in bed recovering. The mental strain alone must be horrific, let alone the physical toll.

  I didn’t know that shrugging would really cut it. I drew a slow breath and thought about it. “I don’t really think I have an answer for you. I know how hard you work for it. I know how much it means to you. When Jonas put you into that tree…”

  She stiffened and looked at the ground for a second.

  “I saw you go down, saw everyone run past, and knew that if I didn’t do so
mething you’d die, and that’d be it. You’d fail and it’d all be because of some prick like Jonas? Not a chance.”

  “And why did that matter?” she pressed.

  “Because, Kepler, as much of an asshole as you’ve been to me over the last four months, I don’t like to see other people suffer — that, and I know it’s all an act.” I grinned a little and watched her blush, trying to look harsh and failing.

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of a damn asteroid. You grew up on this thing,” I said, gesturing to the ship. “Brothers, father — officers, pilots. You live and breathe this thing. But you don’t skate through on their coat-tails, you’re out to prove something. It’s just a shame that all you’ve ever been asked to prove is that you’re as good as them. I think there’s a lot more to you, Kepler. You just need to give it a chance to show through.” I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re going to go far, and I think you did more to earn the chance to than I’ve ever done. I’m a tuber, from some dustball in the middle of an unsettled system, born to terraform a planet that I’d never even get to breathe the air on. You — you’re different, look at you. Made to be better.” I let go of her shoulder and gave her a casual salute. “Forget about it, huh? Move on with your life, do something good with it. I’m going where I’m supposed to — where I belong.” I turned on my heel and made for the door at the end of the corridor. “I’ll catch you around, Kepler,” I called, knowing I wouldn’t.

  “Maddox,” she yelled hoarsely, her voice strained. I didn’t try to read into what was making it that way. “Wait — don’t go. I can… Uh, I can talk to them.”

  I turned, a few feet short of the door, to face her. “Who, Kepler? And what would you say? I had the news a couple of hours back. I was the only recruit out of three hundred and twelve who died during staging — you know that? I’m not fit to be a pilot.”

  “You are. You could be a pilot. You should be a pilot. You should have been there with us, the whole time. It’s my fault you weren’t. If I hadn’t have—”

  “Don’t do it to yourself.” I stared at her, looking at the genuine look of guilt painted across her features. “Kepler, I’m going to say this once, alright, and then I want you to go and celebrate with the others.” I let myself smile at her, framed in the white corridor. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Don’t hold on to this, alright? It happened the way it was supposed to.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell and her fists clenched. She knew where I was going, and what was more than likely going to happen, and it was some solace that she gave a shit, that after four months someone gave a shit — but more, that it was worth it. That throwing myself in front of that shot wasn’t just a worthless act.

  I left her there and turned back to the door. I approached but it didn’t open automatically. I pushed the button, but nothing happened. I pressed it again, and this time, instead of opening, it turned red. I jabbed it again, but nothing happened.

  “What’s wrong?” she called, still lingering.

  “I dunno,” I sighed, looking back. “Door’s busted. It’s probably nothing.”

  The words had barely left my mouth when the corridor descended into a red haze and then rocked violently. The floor tilted to forty-five degrees and then lurched, throwing us both into the wall with a crack.

  A siren split the air and I scrambled forward toward her. She’d hit hard on her shoulder, her head. My bag had been on mine, filled with socks and clothes — it'd broken my fall. She wasn’t so lucky. I bounced from floor to wall as the angle deepened.

  I cleared a doorway and skidded to a halt next to her. She was already on her knees. She stared up at me in the red light, blood trickling from her forehead. “Jesus, Alice,” I yelled, pressing my palm against it. With my free hand I reached for the bag still on my shoulder and swung it around. I grabbed the shirt that was on top and pressed it to the cut. “Hold that there, keep pressure. Are you okay?”

  She nodded quickly, her eyes closing as she winced.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I — I don’t know.” She screwed her face up. “It’s… Uh…” She squinted, listening to the siren. “That’s the emergency siren — all hands on stations. It means… Uh…”

  “Attack,” I breathed. “We’re under attack.”

  As I said it, all the doors flung open at the same time.

  “What do we do?” I asked, our eyes meeting, our faces a few inches apart.

  She swallowed, hard. “I don’t know.”

  23

  The sun was just creeping over the horizon, flooding the sky with streaks of red and gold, and dew clung to the dropping grasses that spilled into the plane off the tree-clad slope.

  We’d ditched our rigs about fifty meters back and snuck up on foot, me, Mac, and Alice.

  Fish had gone ahead to scout, as usual, in his Panther. One second he was there alongside us, and the next he was gone. I was sort of getting used to it already, though.

  Mac hung his head and sighed. He looked tired and strung out. He looked like we all felt. Sleep hadn’t come easy and hunger was gnawing at me harder than ever. We’d salvaged what we could from the transport, but what little there was — mostly the Free’s own rations, along with whatever the soldiers already had — didn’t stretch very far between that many of us. I chewed my cheek instead, the lethargy clawing at my eyelids.

  Alice was stoic, hardened almost. I was out of my depth and floundering, but she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be. The sim had obviously prepped her for this. She’d spent months on that op, at least in her mind, so this was just a continuation. One hell into another. I didn’t know if she felt like this on the first day she had in there, and I didn’t think it was really the time to ask. All I knew was that of the four of us, I was the only one who’d never been on a live op before, never gone to war before, and never piloted an F-Series in the heat of battle before — and if I was betting on who’d die out of us first, then it would have been me. I gritted my teeth and pulled my eyes away from Alice. I’d taken that bullet for her, sure, but noble as it was, it felt like I’d really fucked myself by doing it, and that was twisting in my empty guts like a hot iron.

  We were waiting for any sort of signal from Fish that he’d made a hole, but we had yet to see anything. From our vantage point, lying in the grass just at the edge of the trees, we could see the Free base. It was a long, wide operation ringed by what looked like concrete and steel walls, and run backward into the side of a hill. We could see sentries patrolling the walls outside and guard towers manned by riflemen and searchlights. Everything inside was abuzz and transports and trucks whizzed around on the tarmac we could see through the fence portions. It was a mishmash of buildings and runways. Some ships sat ready for takeoff, being loaded or fueled, and in the distance we could see huge hangar doors agape and flashing with warning lights, the noses of colossal transport ships sticking out in the light of the dawn.

  “If he doesn’t get back soon,” Alice muttered, “we’re going to have to move.”

  “Move away, I hope you mean,” Mack grumbled.

  “Move up, MacAlister.” Alice cut the air with her hand, gesturing at the base. “We’ve got a mission to complete.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve realized, Kepler, but there’s four of us. Well, three now if Fish has been captured and killed, which is pretty fucking likely considering what you sent him to do.” He mumbled something under his breath but I couldn’t hear it. “No, if Fish doesn't get back by the time the sun’s up, this mission is a bust. We fall back, regroup, and try to reach out to the Federation. Send a distress call, or stick to the original plan, and get as far away from this place as we can.”

  “You do what you want, MacAlister. Red and I are going in.” She turned to me and smiled, nodding.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I thought Mac was right. If we didn’t have an in, we’d never
even get close. The sentries would alert them, and they’d scramble every fixed wing and mech they had. We’d maybe last a few minutes, expend what little ammunition we had left, and then we’d get flattened, whether we had the training or not. The Free rebels had the numbers to do it, and no matter how plucky or lucky we were, we’d get torn apart. Instead of saying that, though, I just nodded back.

  “You guys are fucking nuts. Every minute we waste sitting here, the armada are closing in. Do you know what the blast radius is from a full-powered orbital strike? You know how far away we’ll need to be so that the shockwave doesn’t rip us apart?”

  “Just go, Mac,” Alice snapped. “If you’re right, we’ll be dead anyway and there’ll be no one left to rat you out as a deserter.”

  “Fucking hell, why do you two always have to go there, huh? I don’t know why the fuck having common sense is suddenly desertion. I’ve stayed alive this long by making smart choices and not by rushing into every fight headstrong and full of false notions of victory.”

  “Cool it, Mac,” I said, aware that he was talking louder than anyone sneaking up on someone should.

  “No, I won’t fucking cool it. This is bullshit, and you two can shove your suicide pact up your asses. See if you still feel like heroes when you’ve got bullets in your guts. I’m out.” He pushed up onto his knees and scrambled backward onto his feet, turning to walk away.

  “Mac,” I called softly. He didn’t stop.

  “MacAlister!” Alice called, a little louder. He still didn’t stop.

  “Mac, for fuck sake, will you just wait?” I half yelled.

  This time, he did. He slowed and drew a breath, putting his hands on his hips. “What is it?” he said.

  “Will you just turn around?”

  He shook his head and did.

  Fish was standing between us, suit hatch popped behind him, mech shadowed by the overhang of the trees.

  “Fish?” Mac asked, surprised.

  “Well?” Alice chimed in, looking at Mac. He was the only one who could understand him.