In which a stranger comes home.
Most of the Dreadnaught Brigade that had stormed the keep stayed behind, awaiting long-term reinforcements. Lieutenant Thomaston took a small team in an armored transport to escort Jackson Rhodes back to base.
Despite a decisive victory, the soldiers didn't celebrate much. Even on the transport home, Jackson thought everyone seemed tense. He had to desperately fight the urge to make inane small talk. He figured that saving his life entitled these men to a few hours of peace. However, he also felt that if they were going to be spending any amount of time together, they should probably get used to him sooner than later. He was still deciding when and how to be obnoxious when the Lieutenant spoke.
“I remember stories that my great-grandfather told me.” He continued to stare hard out of the porthole. “He told me of a time when we were all one great empire, and no one dared to stand against us. He said that things were peaceful and bright. Men would invent because of the glory of brilliance, not just to kill and survive. There was food, and warmth, and peace.” He paused for a few moments before finally turning to his passenger. “Children's stories, of course. He had many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He had to fill them with some kind of hope. The hope that if a thing was once, it could be again.”
“I am neither fool, nor fanatic, Mr. Rhodes. I know the hearts of men well enough to know that there was never such a thing as peace, nor will there ever be. But there's a difference between conflict and chaos.” He took of his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “We have a file on you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don't know what the Wardens plan on having you do, but it must be important. So just from one soldier to another, I hope you meant it when you said you'd help. Maybe get us one step closer to the closest that humans can get to peace.”
Jackson shifted in his seat, narrowed his eyes and turned to face the opposite porthole. “That was... uncomfortably emotional. Do you have anything to eat?”
* * *
Another hour went by. The sun began to set. Rhodes had eaten every ration in the transport when he was taken aback by something in the distance. “What is that thing? It's huge! I came this way a month ago and that thing wasn't there.”
“Fort Lenimentum,” replied the Lieutenant. “It's a mobile fortress, comprised of a squad of behemoths which expand and interlock into what you see there.”
They got closer and Jackson observed that the outside of the structure seemed to be solid reinforced steel. As they passed through a portcullis, he saw that the interior of the outside walls was covered in layers of gears, pistons, and pulleys. The armored transport pulled into a large garage which was half-empty, yet still housed half a dozen more vehicles just like it.
“Now,” said Thomaston, “let's get you settled into your quarters while I confer with my superiors about the situation.”
The hallways were long, lit with Incandescents, and echoed the base hum of the fort's operations. Jackson couldn't decide whether to feel impressed or oppressed, and he barely even noticed the conversation his host was having with a hand-held device.
“Change of plans, Mr. Rhodes. I just received word that Warden Files has recently gotten back from a successful mission and is about to make a speech in the courtyard. We ought to be there.”
The escorts turned sharply and Jackson followed. More stairs and corridors eventually led him to a ledge overlooking a large open area illuminated by floodlights. There were hundreds of soldiers in rank and file facing the outside wall. One man emerged and walked in front of them. He was dressed in a long, gray-green coat and a smart cap; a tall, broad shouldered type. Warden Files took his place in the center of a short dais which began to be lifted by a hydraulic piston.
“The lights, the thrum of the background machinery, the awed attention of the troops, some mysterious ticking noise... there's something uncanny about this place,” said Jackson. “It really is one big machine, isn't it?”
“You should see what we have back home,” replied Thomaston.
The dais stopped about fifteen feet above the men and they all saluted at once. Warden Files took a deep breath, released it, then returned the salute. They all cheered. When the crowd died down he began to speak.
That is when the enemy attacked.
