Iron Empire

Six: Something Wicked

Report: Quinn
Just off the coast of Nova Scotia.
Canada.
Prototype tactical launch platform.
Designation: "The Firmament"

Despite its stark exterior, the Firmament's interior was nothing short of beautiful. The interior of the half-kilometre-tall station was hollow, occupied by platforms of varying sizes ringing its interior circumference. Railings, elevators and bridges snaked throughout at random, connecting each ring of platforms like the arteries of some massive being.

A glass dome built into the base's top allowed sunlight to shine on the higher platforms, while the lower levels were illuminated by a network of LED lights.

At the base's bottom sat the beating heart of the Firmament, an enormous hexagonal shape strung up with an uncountable number of wires. The nuclear reactor core hummed within its insulated prison, generating enough energy to power the entire facility for the foreseeable future. The core sat on the very lowest platform in the entire base, held just above the ocean. Below it, the water frothed, the tide pushed in through underwater vents in the walls of the base.

The Firmament was anchored deep into the seafloor, and the underwater trench that had been excavated to accommodate it was practically an abyss. In an emergency, the entire core could be dropped into the trench and sealed off from the rest of the ocean to prevent radioactive spread.

The dropship passed through the opening in the Firmament's outer shell and landed on one of the highest levels. From my seat I could see the platform outside, teeming with pilots all regrouping from a previous mission or preparing for their next.

The view was gorgeous. Sunbeams streaked through the dome above and illuminated our landing zone, dappling it with patches of warm light. A complex system of rails carried countless mechs overhead, transporting them throughout the base for post-mission repair or in preparation for combat. The dropships sat in rows on small predetermined landing pads, many in the process of being recharged and stocked with mechs.

A small bridge extended from one of many nearby walkways, latching onto the dropship's side with a click.

A Valkyrie stomped by outside, pitted with bullet holes and directed by a woman on a cart waving air traffic batons.

Lucas grinned and leaned back in the pilot's seat.

"Thank you for flying with Stonewood airlines, please remember to tip your pilot on the way out and-"

Something outside the dropship exploded, the concussive force of the blast shaking the cockpit and throwing me out of my seat. Thick, black smoke billowed from farther down the landing platform, drifting up toward the glass dome at the Firmament's top.

I looked at Lucas, who stared back for a moment.

"Go!" he shouted.

Together we sprinted for the dropship's airlock, yanking the jammed cockpit door open and sprinting into the hall.

A segment of the hallway wall had already been removed by a maintenance crew, the hole functioning as both an exit and an access point into the dropship's inner workings.

My boots clattered against the metal floor as I exited the dropship onto the nearby boarding bridge, pausing only to slide down a ladder to the main floor of the platform. Lucas followed close behind.

Curiously enough, no alarms had gone off outside. I stood at the base of the dropship's landing zone, gazing around at the utter lack of panic. The smoke had already begun to dissipate. What had happened?

"My bad, my bad!" someone announced. "I cut the wrong wire. I thought it was already empty. Clearly I was wrong."

I grinned. Everything was okay after all. I knew exactly who that voice belonged to, and it explained everything.