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“I really hate that guy,” the convict said as he shoveled
another heap of black mud out of the soon-to-be foxhole.
His name was Henrich, and he said he was serving for a
minor assault charge, but from the looks of his scars and
gangland tattoos…I’d say it was the least of his
convictions. He was a big guy, just over two meters in
height, and had a shaved head under his helmet.
“Shh, don’t let Maxim hear that talk…he’ll put you on
perimeter duty. You want to be stringing barbed wire all
day?” I replied. He just shrugged and sank his spade
back into the soil. I’m Barber, a lifer from Ironglass who
ran into the wrong element with far too much liquor on my
brain at the time. I ended up killing a guy, self-defense I
swear it, which landed me this fantastic tour of the galaxy.
“Hey, watch it!” I barely ducked a lump of mud that flew in
from the next foxhole over. I looked over the lip toward
where it came from.
“Sorry mate, don’t know me own strength!” Michaels
shouted with a stupid grin. Michaels was a big grunt from
Vacillus, and our squad’s chain gunner. His arms were
as big around as my leg, and with how much marching
we do I’m in pretty good shape!
“No problem. How long until next shift comes to relieve
us?” I asked, making conversation to pass the time.
“An hour, maybe two…by then we will have finished most
of the graves,” Henrich hissed between the wet ker-shuk
sounds of the digging.
“Foxholes, we’re digging foxholes,” Michaels corrected,
shaking his head.
“Same damn thing these days, same damn thing,”
Henrich finished.
“Stow that negativity, convict. Stick to my orders, don’t try
and run when the shooting starts, and you’ll be fine. But
for now, get out of those holes and head over to the
armory…I’ll be making an announcement in seventeen
minutes,” Censor Maxim ordered. Maxim was a small
framed man, but had icy cold eyes capable of watching
dozens of men executed without even the slightest twitch.
The other convicts in the barracks said that he was a
leading member of the Viridian Royal Guard, but gave up
his stripes to come to Ironglass to oversee the convict
legions. He had fought against every foe the Junkers
have ever faced; men, ‘synths, slugs…all of them. He
spun on his thick heels, and stalked off into the falling
rain. We started to climb out of the muddy holes, and
everyone sighed in relief.
“An announcement? This out to be good.”
26
Standing on the makeshift stage were four men, two of
which I knew. Censor Maxim and his lackey Sergeant
Fulton, a weasel marine that supposedly saved a Lictor
during the Confederate Wars. The other two looked like
ragged convicts, wearing speckled and airbrushed armor
and long matted hair. One was a man, dark-skinned and
thickly muscled. The other was female, wiry like a
mountain cat and topped with a brightly colored topknot.
Around the stage were over a hundred assembled
convicts, workers, and exo-jockeys waiting expectantly for
Maxim’s big speech. I saw just as many eager sets of
eyes as fearful ones. I’d say mine were more the latter.
“Citizens and convicts of Ironglass,” Maxim raised his
staff, “listen to my words, and recognize them as the new
law handed down from the Praetor himself.” He cleared
his throat, and lowered his staff before continuing. “As of
right now, you are all property of the Legion
Scorpion…the frontline Legion in charge of keeping the
slugs from pushing too far inland.”
The crowd erupted into a great turmoil of complaints and
shouting. Maxim clenched his jaw and tapped a hidden
trigger on his staff, sending a wave of pain through each
and every one of us. My neural spike felt like liquid
magma dripping directly into my brain, and I fell to my
knees in the mud. The surge of agony gripped our
hearts, and after a few seconds of it, we were done
arguing or debating…we were Scorpions. Whether we
liked it or not.
“Now that we have your attention, I’d like to introduce you
to Centurions Julius and Aphrodite. They will be
explaining to you your new role in the war effort,” the
Censor gestured to the two strangers, who stood and
took his place at the front of the stage. It was the women
who spoke first.
“Good afternoon convicts!” she looked up into the stormy
sky, “And what a fabulous day to die!”
“But better yet,” Julius interrupted, “what a great day to
kill! The Koralon have pushed back into the sea ever
since the rains started, and it has given us time to set up
shelling sites all up and down the beach. The rains are
starting to break, and the Viridian encampment up the
coast sent word that the slugs pushed back up as soon
as the sky cleared,” he grinned maliciously.
“That gives us a few short hours to get you convicts into
the transports and up to that beach! Because when this
rain breaks, and those slimy water-breathing scum start
sliding up the sands…we are going to drop a few tons of
Naptha rounds into them and boil them down to rock salt!
Death is the ultimate freedom!” she pounded her fist