The Battle of the Void by Fox Richard

Author:Fox, Richard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Triplane Press
Published: 2016-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

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Darkness.

Elias was accustomed to it—to being unable to move, to hear a sound, to see a thing. The Armor Corps selection process put candidates through sensory deprivation, locking them in pitch-black tanks baffled against sound for hours, sometimes days, on end. Candidates learned how to deal with the isolation, or they washed out.

Some armor soldiers viewed the darkness as a prison, Elias found it a sanctuary. He spent that time re-watching movies in his mind but never focused on how long he’d been cut off from the outside world, letting his subconscious flit from movie to movie. He was part way through a Mamoru Oshii classic when a red point of light appeared, a single star against the void.

The light flicked on and off rapidly, then vanished.

Progress, he thought. He remembered hitting the bridge hard, several times, after the wyrm lost its bite, then falling into his current abyss.

His HUD booted up, and familiar warmth spread from the plugs in the base of his skull through his body. A screen lit up; his armor was broken and battered, but still functional. He tried to flex his right arm and couldn’t move it more than an inch against whatever was holding him.

“Elias?” Kallen’s voice came over the IR.

“I’m here. My armor is online but immobile. You? Bodel?”

“Same for the both of us,” Bodel said.

“We went over the side with the ass-end of the wyrm,” Kallen said. “What’s your excuse?”

“Guess I didn’t taste good enough to eat. Got spat out and gravity took over. You see a red light?” They said they did.

A sudden band of light stung Elias’ eyes. The band grew to fill everything he could see then faded. An amphitheater sank away from Elias and a wide pathway led from him to a stage of lacquered wood. The ghostly figure Hale had spoken with prior to the wyrm’s attack stood on the stage.

Orange and white Jinn filled the seats, no two the same. Some were spindly shapes made of thin pipes; others were squat, arms ending in giant claws. The sound of glass clinking against glass surrounded Elias.

Kallen and Bodel were there, each at the top of a pathway leading down to the ghost.

“I am Father,” came from the ghost, the amphitheater carrying his words easily to the upper decks.

Elias checked his weapon systems—all off-line, his gauss shells gone. No matter, he didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous.

“What is this?” Bodel asked. “Why did you attack us?”

Father grew taller, until his size matched the armor, then motioned for the Iron Hearts to descend.

Elias and the others didn’t budge.

“Who are you?” Father asked, his voice shifting from the ugly screech to an even baritone.

“We are the Iron Hearts. We are armor,” Elias said.

“No…your hearts are flesh,” Father said. “We thought you were like us but you…walk both paths.”

“Guess we’re going to play the metaphor game with this guy,” Kallen said over a suit-to-suit IR channel.

“Let’s not start another fight. These things could help us get back to the others,” Elias said.

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