The Lazarus War: Legion Read Free

Martinez asked. He panted heavily over the comm; even he was finding this taxing.
    “I’m the nearest,” I said. This was my problem. “Adopt primary drop formation and secure the LZ.”
    “Affirmative.”
    I fired my thruster. My descent was slowing, but I was still moving fast, and that made the lateral shift difficult. I pulled alongside the twisting figure.
    Up close, I saw the damage that Mason’s uncontrolled descent had caused. Her armour plating was blackened, glowing an incandescent white in places, angry blood-red and orange in others. Inside her helmet, her face was a mask of horror – eyes wide and pallor an absolute white.
    “I…I can’t get…angle!” she stammered.
    “Breathe deep. Focus.”
    I issued the orders verbally. In my head, I requested that her suit administer a dose of combat-drugs. Almost immediately, her rhythms flattened. It wouldn’t be enough to put her out, or even stop her from panicking, but I hoped that it was enough to keep her alive.
    “Help me! Please!”
    “Fire the thruster in three short bursts.” I was becoming increasingly hot; I realised suddenly how far off course Mason had actually drifted. “Just stay with it.”
    The thrusters were all thought-activated, and a panicked mind implicitly carried delay. She spiralled again and again, armour glowing hotter with every turn: every exposed angle blistering. Streamers of smoke had started rising from the damaged exterior. Unless I helped her, she was going to roast inside the armour.
    “Fire the thruster! Now!”
    Mason fired and her descent wobbled.
    “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…” she babbled.
    “Keep quiet and keep the comms channel clear. Give me your hand.”
    Mason reached out to me, her gloved fingers spread. I fired my thruster again, edging nearer to her – I could almost feel the heat coming from her frazzled body, more powerful than that emanating from Maru Prime below.
    “I can’t reach—”
    She wobbled some more, spinning again. An alarm sounded in my helmet: SQUAD MEMBER IN CRITICAL CONDITION. Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.
    I reached for her, the tip of my forefinger brushing her arm.
    Distance: two hundred metres.
    “Reach again!” I shouted.
    Then suddenly Mason was upright, her thruster pack firing pure blue. She ground her teeth. Reached with splayed fingers. I grappled with her hand, locking around her wrist.
    Distance: one hundred metres.
    “Come on, Private. You can do this!”
    She nodded firmly, thruster firing in a steady rhythm.
    The distance counter slowed even further and suddenly we were over the LZ. The thruster pack gave one last, monumental fire – allowing me almost to hover above the landing pad. My feet touched down on the deck, absorbed the impact through the rest of my body. I stood for a second, breathing deep, enjoying the fact that I was on solid ground.
    “You okay?”
    Mason’s combat-suit had temporarily locked. She sagged inside the armour, sweated forehead touching her inner face-plate.
    “Christo,” she whispered. “That was a ride. Thanks.”
    I didn’t answer her, just scanned the landing pad. The rest of my squad watched on with something approaching disbelief. They were assembled outside the station’s primary airlock with weapons drawn.
    “Maybe Kaminski was right when he said that she wasn’t ready,” Jenkins said.
    “She’s alive,” I answered, using the restricted channel between Jenkins and me. I didn’t want Mason’s confidence any more bruised than it already was.
    “You really want a ride, maybe I can show you sometime,” Kaminski said.
    Mason didn’t bother with a reply.
    “Stow that shit,” I ordered, back on the general channel. “Get us inside the station and conduct a sweep.”

TERMINAL DECLINE
     
    The landing pad was on an elevated spar at the periphery of the observatory. It was swathed with hot, ash-ridden winds; and debris from the battle being fought in low orbit had started to rain down, giving the false impression that