Iron Empire

Sixty-Five: Homeward Bound

The dropships descended, tossing swaying shadows on the ground like circling vultures. I shielded my eyes as Dropship 13 blasted me with sand, its repulsor engines blowing some of the smaller debris off of my Spartan.

Led by Draco's chosen Commander, the remainder of Axion's strike force had left shortly after I'd taken Draco down, leaving behind their mechs in favour of a quick retreat. Clean-up had begun, with the wreckage of enemy mechs being taken for study or for evidence.

Doctor Dan Stonewood, always brave, had volunteered to enter the Terminus in a Hazmat suit to document the ship and match the blueprints. With it, we could irrefutably prove Axion's involvement in the creation of Terminus and expose crimes they had almost succeeded in committing. With any luck, this would bring about an end to the United States' attack on Russia—without their top contractor, the creation of mechs would stall.

Of course, it wasn't over yet. Even with Axion no longer stoking the fires of war, a Russian counterattack was likely, meaning we weren't done sabotaging war efforts.

My comm earpiece crackled.

"I have good news and bad news," Lucas informed me. "The good news is that we can save most of your Spartan."

I watched as his dropship descended with its hangar opened, mechanical arms reaching out for my mech and latching onto it.

"What's the bad news?" I inquired, fearing the worst.

Half of the Spartan's shell tore free from the warship's bulk with a terrible screech. I winced, staring in horror at the damage done to it.

"The bad news is that most of it doesn't mean its legs," Lucas responded. "Sorry."

"Nothing a bit of elbow grease can't fix," Dan responded, his breathing laboured.

"Is it hot in that hazmat suit, Dan?" Kitt laughed. His tiny Regiment had saved his life when the Killswitch cannon had gone off, being far too small to injure him as it fell.

In fact, almost everyone was okay. There were a few broken bones and sore necks, but tumbling into desert sand was far less brutal than the fall taken by those unlucky pilots on Yamantau. We would recover.

A hand fell on my shoulder, shadowed by another dropship hovering overhead.

Martin Telbus stood behind me, grinning. The Exodus was in the process of being recovered, its massive red bulk being pulled out of the sand where it lay. While most pilots had successfully ejected after Draco's final attack, Martin's capsule had failed. He'd climbed out of his Exodus to make sure I was alright and now waited for pickup at my side.

"One heck of a punch you delivered there, Jax," he smiled. "I can't say I'm not jealous, I owed Fisk for the bullet he put in my chest."

"Is Draco secure?" I asked.

"Locked up tight and not going anywhere!" Alyx announced. Even over the comms, I could tell that she was smiling.

With all the new mechs to collect for study, we'd reorganized the dropships. We had no shortage of free space, hangar slots left empty by destroyed mechs, but we were nearly overflowing with new technology. Dan was in his glory. However, this meant that prisoner transport was going to be tough.

Save for Martin's Exodus, Dropship 13 was filled with broken mechs instead of functional ones, to prevent any escape attempts by our new guest. My Spartan, a Titan, an Aegis and Fisk's Pantheon all hung inside, non-functional. If Fisk did escape into the dropship hangar he would have nothing else to escape in, and the Exodus would be closely guarded.

I was going to make sure he never got the chance to attempt an escape.

"I've got the scans and photos," Dan informed us, his voice over the comms muffled by the hazmat. "Transferring the files to the Firmament now."