Iron Empire

Eight: Exclusion Zone

"Alright, listen up pilots!"

Mallet was in her element, standing at the front of the crowded briefing room.

To call it a briefing room was generous. The open-air auditorium was, in fact, merely a ramshackle collection of chairs and tables pulled together in the corner of one of the dropship landing platforms.

My seat was close to the platform's railing. I could see the Firmament's uppermost dome high above and could almost make out the bulky shape of the reactor core far below. The morning was muggy and smelled of ocean salt and oil.

Sixteen dropships of various sizes occupied the space directly behind us. Crews bustled about the space, loading mechs and making final preparations.

The mechanical din was only overwhelmed by the din of thirty mech pilots chattering nervously.

"Grayson, shut up," Mallet snapped.
A specific, loud voice quickly stopped talking and the rest of the room soon followed suit.

General Marissa Mallet swung her hawk-like gaze to the front of the platform, where a large LCD projector shone its light onto the Firmament's rounded wall.

The screen showed aerial shots of a ruined city. I leaned in closer, nearly falling forward out of my chair. I vaguely recognized the cityscape from pre-war textbooks.

"Approximately seven hours ago," Mallet began, "our men and women on the inside leaked classified American troop movements to us from their positions inside Axion high command. It's not good."

A murmur swept the room. Despite her no-nonsense attitude, it wasn't usual for Mallet to address an issue with such a negative outlook.

Mallet nodded to a technician and several red dots appeared on the video screen, highlighting various smudges. I could barely make them out to be mechs.

"The American invasion effort has gained valuable reinforcements," Mallet continued. "Nine hours ago, several hundred Legions were airdropped into an American encampment. These mechs have now marched into the southern part of the Moscow Exclusion Zone and have taken up occupation of the city."

"Blast it," Dan swore under his breath behind me, just loud enough for Lucas, Taewi and I to hear. "That was supposed to be neutral territory after the bombs fell! What are the Americans thinking?"

"They aren't thinking," Mallet responded, from all the way up at the front of the room. "Axion Industries is thinking for them. Through bribes."

Dan shivered.

"How the heck did she hear me?" he squeaked.

I only offered him a shrug. Mallet was Mallet. Some things were best left unexplained.

Lucas raised his hand.

"What's the use of Moscow," he chuckled, "if it's been irradiated since the Third World War?"

Mallet visibly grimaced.

"Russian mechs have responded to the invasion, but the Legions are powerful. The situation is precarious, as the Moscow Exclusion Zone is only one hundred eighty-two kilometres northwest of a major Russian-German stronghold in the city of Ryazan."

The picture changed to accommodate both the photo of the exclusion zone and of a blocky airbase nestled within the mottled cityscape of Ryazan. The building's side was covered in Russian writing I couldn't read, but the large red cross on the base's roof gave me a good guess as to the building's primary function.

"This stronghold is a medical base," Mallet confirmed. "If the Americans destroy this base, it will not only crush the spirit of the Russian alliance but also gain Axion a strategic foothold on their march to the Russian capital of New Moscow. It would be a massacre that would propel the Russians to use more desperate tactics, only further increasing the bloodshed."

Mallet concluded her explanation with another sweeping glance around the room.

"For those reasons, we cannot let those Legions gain control of the exclusion zone."

The murmurs swept further.

"Legions?" Lucas hissed. "Those are the biggest mechs Axion owns! Just one is a tough fight, let alone hundreds!"

"Shut up," Dan hissed back, "she'll hear you."

"Disrupting this assault," Mallet continued, "will require one of the biggest attacks ever conceived in the time of this Alliance."

She gestured around the room, shifting her gaze from pilot to pilot.

Mallet's voice rose.

"We aren't going in stealthily this time. We're hitting them hard and making sure that nobody owns the city when the battle ends."

Mallet raised a finger.

"Remember, today we fight for the Russian cause but they are not our allies. We don't want to win this war. We want to end it. Our enemy is not America or Russia—it is Axion Industries."

Mallet's sway over the crowd was absolute. Every pilot was aware of our mission, but hearing it only strengthened my resolve. We could do this.

"Squadrons one through four will secure the perimeter around the city," Mallet commanded. "Squadrons five, six and seven will enter the exclusion zone and attempt to flush the Axion army towards the perimeter. All other pilots will attack the Axion landing site to buy some time."

I blinked in disbelief. Squadron seven was for recruits and pilots on probation—though I understood I fit into the latter category, I could not believe Mallet would send us into the heart of the battle.

The murmur became a roar, voices of pilots wondering exactly how large this battle would be. Mallet merely smiled and continued.

"Without this foothold in Russia and without their reinforcements, the American war effort could very well be stagnated for some time."

Mallet glanced around the room again, and many pilots smiled back. With what could have almost passed for a cheer, she brought her speech home.

"We have to win this fight without hiding or running. We strike, we win, we leave and nobody will know where we came from! This time, Axion Industries will be the ones retreating!"

Pilots cheered, hands held high, as the emotions in the room reached a fever pitch.

I knew better.

The fact we were no longer attempting to be stealthy meant one of two things, and neither of them were good.

Either Axion had greater power over the war than we had anticipated, or they had already located our base and being tactful was now irrelevant. Somehow, I knew this was related to the Exodus attack. But why?

I stared at General Mallet at the front of the room as she began to talk strategy. She spoke of how we were all going to be attacking together. Dividing us into strike teams. Despite my best efforts, I lost focus on her orders.

What I was really focused on was her gaze.

Something important I had learned when piloting a fragile mech like my Prowler was to use an enemy's gaze against them. Mech cameras don't give you a full three-hundred-sixty degree view, so they're given large, rotating bases to move with. Many pilots can give away if they intend to attack or run from a fight just by the direction the body of their mech swivels.

If a Goliath is staring you down across the battlefield, more likely than not it's about to leap into the air and crush you. A pilot avoiding your gaze means they're trying to survive for a purpose—or that they're waiting for reinforcements.

Mallet was now purposefully avoiding everyone's eyes, looking at us as a whole instead of as individuals. When she'd yelled at me on the bridge she'd been looking at me, attacking directly, but now Mallet was not meeting the gaze of anyone in the room.

She was either deathly afraid of what was to come, or, most frightening of all, she had another plan in mind, one she couldn't tell us.

No matter the reason, Mallet's uncertainty made me nervous. As I watched her I pulled my coin from my pocket, enjoying the comforting weight in my hands.
Despite what I'd been told about relying on it, I knew we would need all the luck we could get.