Iron Empire

Sixteen: When The War Ends

Report: Quinn
Just off the coast of Nova Scotia.
Canada.
Alliance home base.
Designation: "The Firmament"

The sounds of laughter filled the Firmament's hollow interior, bouncing through the metal tube from its shining top to its watery base. Most of the Firmament's crew was packed onto the mezzanine level—a mezzanine only in name, being located on one of the highest levels of the tower. The mezz was where stories were shared, friends were made and, most importantly, meals were eaten.

While most platforms occupied about half of the total circumference of the Firmament's massive interior, the mezz filled the entire space, spanning from end to end, save for a large hole in the middle.

This donut-shaped design was quite intentional—it allowed light from the domed ceiling to reach the rest of the Firmament evenly, and could provide a narrow escape route for dropships in case of emergencies.

Compared to the stark metal design of many of the lower floors, this platform was downright homey.

White linoleum tile covered both the floor and walls, and wooden railings lined the edge of the platform. The seating resembled your typical cafeteria—sets of eight plastic stools were bolted onto numerous rolling tables.

The food itself was mediocre, designed for nourishment, not taste. It usually didn't matter—after a long mission, anything edible was fantastic.

Two segments of the mezzanine were lined by reinforced windows overlooking the ocean far below. Though beautiful, they were still camouflaged with the rest of the tower.

Squadron seven was seated at one of the tables closest to the window. Shortly after landing every squadron had gone through a rushed debrief before being sent to enjoy a hot meal and some time off. I could see through the ruse—General Mallet was eager to have us celebrate to keep morale up—but I enjoyed the time nonetheless.

For the past ten minutes, we had been seated at our table by the window, tucking heartily into meals provided to us by the Firmament's galley one floor below. We had spent most of this time eating ravenously, but as appetites were sated the conversation returned in full force.

Lucas, who was seated across the table from me, was laughing to kill himself.

"He looks me dead in the eyes. Tape me up, he says," Lucas chortled. He pitched his voice down slightly as he attempted to impersonate me through his giggles. "It's worth it, he says," Lucas finished. He took a swig of the protein shake he was holding and promptly broke down laughing.

Dan reached to his left and caught his brother before he toppled backwards off the stool, nearly knocking his bowl of soup to the floor in the process.

"I take a bolt of lightning and this is the thanks I get?" I complained.

"Well I don't know for sure, Jax," Kitt remarked, suppressing a smile, "but I'd say your strategy was shockingly effective."

Alyx thumped her fist on the table, causing her drink to bounce.

"Martin, is it too late for me to change squadrons?" she deadpanned.

Martin lifted his head from his hands with a deep, mirthful sigh. "Afraid so, Alyx," he replied. "We're stuck with the lot of 'em."

"What?" Kitt beamed, enjoying our suffering, "No thunderous applause?"

A spoon sailed past his head, landing on the floor with a clang that went unnoticed amongst the clamor.

"Puns aside," Martin began, "you all performed heroically this morning. I'm proud of you. We asked a lot of you and you delivered as a team."