Ironshield

by Edward Nile

  “Food poisoning,” said Mayla, straight-faced. “They really do need more quality control on the rations here.” She looked through her periscope. “It’s almost time.”

  Aldren nodded. Turning the ignition, he went switch by switch and button by button changing red lights to green as he watched needles quiver near the full mark on fuel gauges.

  Not a moment later their radio blared to life with orders for all troops to report to their battle stations. Peering through his own scope, Aldren saw why.

  Out on the water, the first guns of the second Bay of Rust boomed to life as the Arkenian navy engaged the still distant Taisen.

  ***

  The hydraulic lift whirred to life, and Tessa Kolms held on with one hand as she rose into the air. Beside her loomed the carapace of her Warsuit, a wall of steel angles interspersed with streaks of gold.

  She locked eyes with her lover as James too was lifted toward the cockpit of his machine across from her, the rays of the rising sun streaking between them as the first guns blasted out on the water.

  They reached the hatches of their cockpits and James raised a hand toward her. It felt like a farewell.

  Not if I have anything to say about it. Tessa gave James a salute before climbing into the dark recess of her Warsuit. Pushing a button, she turned into her seat as the hatch lifted to seal her within the Kaizer.

  Tessa’s new saber hissed from its scabbard.

  Her hand shook as she raised it. The clanking, burning metal flashed through her mind, memories of the last time she’d operated a Kaizer.

  This time is different. This time, it’s mine.

  She slammed the saber home into the ignition cradle and turned it. Strapping in while everything shook around her, Tessa flicked the switches on her terminal, bringing auxiliary engines roaring to life to join the Kaizer Engine in a rumbling cacophony.

  Her radio blinked as the others made their announcements.

  “James Edstein here. Ironshield is up and running.”

  “Ivan Kolms. Northern Dread is a go.”

  “Samuel Mutton. Redstripe prepared to engage. Godspeed, everyone.”

  Tessa wrenched her mouthpiece from the terminal. “Tessa Kolms,” she said. “Iron Wrath, ready for combat.”

  Chapter 40

  Matthew Kaizer’s attention was split between piecing together the final crucial mysteries of his father’s hidden blueprints and watching the very real abomination those blueprints outlined move across the water.

  The fiery flashes of Arkenian artillery striking against the Taisen’s sides didn’t so much as slow the beast down, and when the Xangese vessel returned fire, it did so with devastating effect.

  Arkenian ships were engulfed in the flames of their own destroyed engines, the work of hundreds of people spanning thousands more man hours brought bubbling and hissing into the bay’s depths as the orchestrator of their demise continued its steady course.

  Through the binoculars he continually raised with one hand, Matthew thought he caught sight of a crew member leap from the flaming wreckage of an Arkenian battleship, the star of its flag encircled with fire.

  The Taisen would hit the beach in minutes, and for all the optimism he’d heard, men thinking the enemy machine had to be a purely seafaring vessel, Matthew was afraid he knew what would happen when it did.

  Naval officers screamed across the radio waves, bellowing commands as their guns split the air to no discernable effect.

  Matthew shut the radio off. He didn’t need to hear this. Bad enough he had to watch as the fruits of his father’s mind were used to slaughter his own people.

  The Taisen’s hulking shape smashed through a pair of ships that had moved to try blocking its path. In its wake to either side, smaller Xangese cruisers sped forward, their full warship sizes made almost minute in comparison to the giant.

  Matthew held his breath as he watched the first ship hit the beach. Its hull opened at the sides, huge curved plates of steel crashing to the ground to allow the vessel to drop its payload. Enemy Warsuits landed on the Bay of Rust and began marching up the beach, their heads wreathed in diesel smoke.

  That does it, Matthew thought, folding the blueprints while the first bout of ground fighting began. Study time’s over, Dad.

  He shoved aside a soldier babbling questions his way and ran northwest, in the direction he’d seen a scout plane dipping to land.

  *

  A pile of scrap, held together by an ideal.

  Hardly anything of Ironshield remained original from the Civil War. Even less from the Xang conflict, and almost none from the Revolution. Only bits and pieces remained from when Heinrich Edstein had piloted the famous Warsuit.

  But the ideal hadn’t died, and therefor Ironshield was as true to its origins as it could be. Just as Iron Wrath beside it, despite being an entirely different machine, was still the same. The bolts and gears didn’t matter. The people in the cockpit didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was the ideal. The belief in independence, in freedom.

  James felt several hundred tons of steel tremble around him, shaking him to his bones even through the suspension built into his seat.

  Flexing his fingers along the control sticks as engine heat crept into his cockpit, James pressed his face to the periscope and allowed his perspective to be pulled forward. He looked down at the beach and lapping waves as though he himself had grown a hundred feet.

  The first Xangese battleship came ashore, splintering the logs laid there. Ironshield’s head-mounted scopes were just below the large ship’s deck level.

  James imagined the creak and slam of metal he couldn’t hear as the hull fell away to either side of the ship.

  “What’s this shit?” Tessa muttered over the radio.

  James thought he felt a tremble make its way up Ironshield. Then a Warsuit stepped from the ship’s open side. Not a Xangese landship, nor a Krieger. A Kaizer, matching Ironshield in height if not in width, the red serpents of the Xangese flag painted across its chest.

  And there were more where that came from.

  “Savior above,” breathed Ivan Kolms.

  “Nothing we weren’t expecting, people,” called Samuel Mutton. “So let’s not waste time.”

  “I hate agreeing with the Appeaser,” said Tessa as Wrath stomped forward.

  “When he’s right he’s right.” James matched Wrath’s stride. While smaller Xangese Warsuits rolled up the beach below, the Arkenian Kaizers roared toward their opponents.

  As one, both sides opened fire.

  James heard the familiar pings and shrieking peals of machinegun fire hitting his Warsuit’s armor. The tremor of his own booming guns reverberated up his wrists as he held down the triggers, his feet working the pedals to bring Ironshield into a slow side step in an effort to bring it out of direct fire.

  To the far left, Redstripe rammed its blade through another enemy machine and wrenched up hard in the same motion, spilling shredded parts and black oil onto the ground.

  “Conserve ammunition!” Samuel Mutton called. “This is only the first wave!”

  If we need to resupply, this thing’s already lost. That was what Matt had said. “Shit,” James growled. Ironshield wasn’t designed for hand-to-hand.

  But, as it turned out, neither were the enemy Kaizers.

  A Xangese Warsuit’s foot sank into the sand between wooden planks. As the machine dipped to one side, James took his chance. Pushing both control sticks forward and slamming his pedals down, he sent Ironshield surging toward the distracted enemy, massive bayonet raised.

  His opponent’s guns pattered and clanged against Ironshield, but it wasn’t enough to stop James’ heavily armored Warsuit.

  Ironshield’s blade came swinging down, gears rattling and clanking in his ears along with the thunderous din of raging pistons. Metal shrieked through metal, the heavy blade ripping its way into the other machine.

  James worked the throttles, putting as much engine torque as he could behind
Ironshield’s right arm until the blade sheared halfway down the Xangese suit’s torso, spraying bright yellow sparks.

  James hit the destroyed machine with his other arm and sent the fiery wreckage toppling onto its back.

  The Dread wrenched its pointed hammers free of another felled suit while Wrath finished off its second opponent, taking the Xangese machine’s legs out from under it in one massive swing.

  One Kaizer from the ship remained standing, not counting what seemed like dozens of Kriegers which had already passed the first defensive line.

  Another ship came to a halt along the sand. Then another. Both dropped their hull plating to reveal more Warsuits.

  Between destroyed ships, fighting Warsuits, and the ever encroaching Taisen, the sky was already darkening, smoke bringing about an unnatural early gloom.

  They’d come off to a good start, James and the others. But they were outgunned, and this was only the beginning.

  If the battle kept on like this, they wouldn’t be able to hold out.

  **

  “Shit’s hot in here.” Aldren wiped sweat from his drenched face. “If I wanted swamp nuts I woulda stayed in Xang.”

  “It’s about to get hotter,” Mayla said. “Look ahead!”

  Aldren pressed his face to the periscope and went pale. The Kaizers were fighting similar-sized Xangese Warsuits. And while the giants did battle, Kriegers flying eastern colors rolled up the beach, their guns blowing through Arkenian emplacements and slaughtering unfortunate infantry.

  “God damn it. All hands, fire on those suits!” General Renalds commanded, opening fire on the approaching machines below with Virtue’s guns.

  Aldren felt consecutive trembles, heard the near-deafening boom as Mayla shot at the enemies.

  Should’ve gone home to the cows. Aldren grabbed hold of his own gun controls and opened fire with the automatic rifles, bringing his scope’s crosshairs to bear on the nearest enemy Warsuit.

  A shell burst in front of them, temporarily blinding Aldren with a cascade of sand.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Aldren worked the pedals and sticks, bringing his Warsuit rolling to the right.

  "Yeah, they shoot back." Mayla fired at an enemy suit that came rumbling up through the cleared dust. "Keep at it! Don't let them hit the fuel tanks!"

  Aldren didn't need the reminder. To their rear were a pair of trucks bearing huge cylindrical tanks filled with diesel. Their comrades moved up and down the beach, firing at the Xangese that got past Virtue's guns and stomping feet. A pair of Arkenian Kriegers crashed into one another, toppling over onto their sides. Aldren was uncomfortably aware that he'd had no more training than the other new pilots, and even less combat experience.

  Fumes from heated metal and acrid exhaust were headache-inducing and stung his eyes. Blinking, Aldren pressed his face against the periscope and focused in, continuing to sweep machinegun fire across the approaching machines. An enemy round ricocheted against the sloped surface of their Warsuit with a loud, high-pitched noise.

  "Stop letting them hit us!" Mayla shouted.

  "Well what do you want me to do?!" Aldren demanded.

  Mayla hit one of the enemy machines at the pivot point between the torso and base, causing the Warsuit to belch black smoke as it lurched to a stop. Another swerved around it, firing on them.

  "Only got so much ammo in this rig," Mayla said. "Ram the fucker."

  "You gotta be—"

  "RAM IT!”

  Aldren slammed his foot to the gas and pushed forward, urging the Krieger to top speed. With the left handle, he tried to get the Warsuit’s bladed arm forward, but hit the wrong button, shooting one of the Krieger’s flares instead. The small flame broke against the enemy suit’s armor, sending red sparks across its surface.

  Aldren’s machine struck the enemy Warsuit head on.

  His straps cut into him as he bucked forward, losing hold of the controls as momentum tried to rip him from his seat.

  Mayla cursed from the gun pit above. “Nice driving.”

  “Shut up,” he said once he could breathe again. “You good?”

  “Ask my ribs when this is over.”

  “That mean you’ll take your shirt off for m—” Aldren was cut short when something slammed against the front of their machine. “Fuck.” He looked through the periscope to see the blade of the enemy suit coming down for a second blow, sporting a massive downward spike that had already gouged the plating on their hood.

  “Hit him!” Mayla shouted, letting loose with small caliber automatics that didn’t seem to even dent the Warsuit they were jammed against.

  Aldren tried the control stick again, avoiding the flare button. Depressing one button near the top, he wiggled the handle from side to side. The Krieger’s left arm moved left to right.

  Hold the button, then move the stick, got it. “Alright!” He hit the enemy machine across the torso, feeling the jarring recoil of the strike as it shook through the limb into the cockpit.

  Aldren brought the blade back for a second blow, but jerked in his seat when the enemy machine struck down again with its spiked blade. Smoke trailed from where the spike punctured.

  “Reverse!” Mayla shouted. Aldren saw bullets spark around the enemy’s scopes as his partner tried to blind it.

  He looked at the control handles, at the buttons and switches along his bulkhead terminal. “How?”

  “Shit!” Another blow shook their Warsuit, its plating squealing as the spike penetrated deeper and deeper into the steel. Looking up, Aldren saw Mayla unbuckle from her harness and slip down toward him head first.

  “Know they were pressed for time training you people, but still…” she muttered as she crawled around Aldren. “Keep your eyes on the—”

  Another strike. A streak of daylight shone from beneath the terminal onto Aldren’s boot.

  “Not good.” Aldren looked to the scope. The enemy was positioning its arm gun, aiming it down into the hole it had just created. “May,” Aldren called. “Hurry!”

  Something smashed into the enemy Krieger from the side just as they reversed. The Xangese shell exploded in the sand where Aldren and Mayla’s machine had just been.

  Looking down at Mayla, Aldren saw her with a hand on a lever sticking from the bottom of the cockpit next to his seat.

  “Either pull back on the control shafts, or use the emergency lever,” she said. “What’s happening out there?”

  Outside, an Arkenian Krieger finished tearing the enemy suit in half, leaving the top to topple over, spilling parts as the Xangese pilot scrambled out.

  The Warsuit that had saved them was painted with stylized red and black gearwork, a necklace of sprockets and raven feathers strung around its torso.

  Na’Tet’s machine.

  “Crazy bastard,” Aldren said with a smile. “Thanks, pal,” he said over the radio, raising his machine’s right arm in salute.

  Na’Tet mimicked the gesture before speeding off toward the next fight.

  There was no time for Aldren to reflect on his near death, as more enemy machines rolled their way, firing ordnance toward the fuel supply.

  Taking his controls in hand, Aldren revved toward the fight as soon as Mayla was strapped in.

  Chapter 41

  They were going to lose.

  Matthew Kaizer had known this from the moment he saw the first Xangese ship land and deposit its payload of Warsuits. The enemy had built too many machines for the Arkenian forces to contend with. Even without the Taisen to defend against, they were outgunned.

  But Matthew had to do what he could to give them whatever slim hope was available. He had to right the wrong his father had been forced to make. That monstrosity carving its way through the waves toward their home could not be allowed to exist.

  The scouting pilots were in the middle of refueling when Matthew arrived at the improvised air strip. Men in thick, fur-lined coats made to resist the brisk winds, their protective goggles perched on their foreheads, were in the middle
of cramming a quick bite of dried rations before their next venture into the skies.

  Mathew picked out a pilot around his own age, a man whose thin frame was hardly made up for by his thick leathers, chewing fast and washing down his food with a steaming tin mug of coffee.

  “You, soldier,” Matthew said. “I need you to take me up.”

  The pilot lowered his coffee and narrowed his eyes at Matthew, looking him up and down. “This some kind of joke?” he asked. “Get back to work with the other civvies. We’re in the middle of battle, if you haven’t noticed.”