Fire

The clanging of the assembly lines echoed throughout the chamber, intensifying the noise. I stood over them, watching the different components come together to create a new whole, something worth much more than the sum of its parts. I had gotten back into industry, having neglected it too long. For a poor soldier cannot afford the tools of war, and it was mining and industry that put money in my pocket. The hum of the machinery was calming, comforting, reminding me of more care-free times.

The heat coming of the conveyors was intense and the whole chamber was filled with it, my sight distorted by its overwhelming presence. It reminded me of the hellish fire of Lossa I, deep in the mines where it forged me into the man I am today. Completely inhabitable because of it, even with our heavy mining gear designed to protect us it still permeated the suit and made the job wholly uncomfortable. I looked over to the far end of the chamber, watching everything sway through the veil of the heat waves.

Speaking of hot air, a recent conversation with a fellow soldier showed me how simple people can be. This Praetorian and I had difference of opinion, and when she confronted me about it, she had nothing to say but to lecture me on rank structure and procedure. A complete avoidance of the subject original incident. Wielding her rank as a hammer, not to resolve the conflict, but bury it beneath protocol. Instead of fixing the problem, she swept it under the rug of her higher appointment. A cowardly way out. Her utter inability for discussion and simple-minded ‘I rank higher’ thought process serve only to make her an empty rank to me. She will make a poor leader.

I mean, dammit, even after the original incident, I still helped her when she needed it. I even covered the losses out of my own pocket to make sure all of the equipment she needed made it to her base of operations. How does she repay me? She pulls rank! Despicable. Cowardly. Stupid. The only help she’ll get now are professional courtesies. As I said before, an empty rank.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, releasing my anger, but not forgetting the reason for it. I pulled my data pad out of my pocket and sorted through my files. My recent batch of invention jobs had enjoyed a 70% success rate. The next batch was going to be even greater, through the sheer volume of jobs I would be able to run with the excess prints I was going to have. This would allow me a nice buffer of liquid assets, and of course I’ll see if the corp store wants any, as both payment for allowing me to take the time to set this up, and as a gift for allowing me to serve.

Soon enough, I’ll be able to resume the occasional mining operation as well. The time is soon approaching when I’ll be able to be both miner and marine, pickaxe and Praetorian. I can feel myself becoming stronger already. The two halves of the universe coming together, welded to each other through my stubbornness to give either up.

The sweltering chamber was getting a little intense for my tired state, and I turned to leave, seeking a bit of relief. As I walked out a fountain of flame erupted from one of the nearby forges, and I was sent back to Lossa I for a second, recalling an incident.


--

I was down in the main mine shaft, the hot rock surrounding me lined with veins of molten materials. Small shield generators worked overtime to keep the molten rock from seeping into the tunnel. The glow of the magma wasn’t enough to work by entirely, but it did create a hellish glow, reminding the other miners and I that we weren’t supposed to be there. The hazard pay did little to alleviate our apprehension about working in such an environment.

Carefully aiming my laser at the mineral rich veins that also crisscrossed the walls, I pulled the trigger, the orange glow of the laser serving to add to the hellish atmosphere. The lasers didn’t have to work hard to vaporize the rock down here, and I felt the pack on my back get heavier as it filled with compressed vapors. I could hear others activating their lasers as well, as we carefully swept through the tunnel, gathering anything of value.

However, the hum of the lasers was soon interrupted by a loud crack. I quickly looked in the direction it came from, seeing the floor of the tunnel break and magma start to bubble up. I looked around to get a quick count of the miners around me, noticing one was missing. Looking down the tunnel, past the crack, I could see his laser lighting up.

His suit was giving off the signal for one of our veteran miners, Zeruel Angellos. A rather gruff individual, he was almost downright antisocial to anyone he didn’t trust. I quickly activated my comm system to hail him. He must’ve not heard the crack.

“What’s up?” He asked casually, barely audible over the loud music I could hear in the background.

“Zeruel, get the hell over here! The shaft is filling with magma!” I yelled, not in anger, but to reinforce the urgency of the situation.

I could see his laser deactivate, causing him to disappear. The magma was spreading, and everyone was slowly backing away, continuing to look down the tunnel to see what was going to happen. Soon I could see Zeruel approaching at a full run, his laser and pack missing.

I quickly cursed, realizing his intentions, and dropped my stuff as quickly as I could, and ran up to the edge of the magma, flames starting to burst from the cracks in the wall as hot vapors escaped into the shaft. A massive flame erupted from the expanding pool of magma, causing me to lose sight of Zeruel. I searched frantically, my eyes widening as he suddenly came soaring through the flame, falling just short of me and into a shallow pool of the magma. I ran into it, my heavy boots causing it to splash everywhere. I grabbed Zeruel by the arms as I felt arms grab onto me, the other miners pulling us both out. He was only in there for a second, but it was all it took.

The back of his suit was absolutely destroyed and as I was dragged out, my partially melted boots keeping me from walking, I brushed off molten parts of his gear, keeping the tight grip I had on him. Enough layers of his suit were melted through that the hot air was seeping in, and I could see his pain through his visor. I felt my feet starting to burn as the hot air entered through my destroyed boots.

The other miners got us out of there quickly enough to save our lives, and once back at the station Zeruel and I were treated for our burns. His took a lot longer to recover from, third degree burns covering most of his body, especially his back. I was back on my feet in a week, but I checked in everyday to see how he was doing.

--

That incident was one of the first times I had run into a life threatening situation to save someone. It would happen a couple more times before I would leave to join PIE, where I have faced dangers with my wing mates many times. I wonder who I would have become had I not dove headfirst into the fire to save Zeruel, but had stood back. However, I had saved him without hesitation. I don’t think there was any other way for me to go. Hell, back there I could have died, but now, death is not something I have to worry about any longer.

Having left the factory floor, I entered a nearby washroom to wash the sweat from my face. Stopping to look in the mirror, I trailed my eyes from the bloody patch on my armor to my face, noticing something I hadn’t seen before. There was a certain intensity in my eyes. They reminded me of someone I knew, someone whose eyes never went soft. I could see I was taking to my new occupation, the fire of the crusades burning silently behind my countenance. I just hope I don’t get consumed by hate as he has.

His hate burns intensely, but he seems to put it to good use, furthering the cause of the Empire instead of lashing out at those around him. He certainly never pulled rank on me to ‘resolve’ an argument, and we’ve definitely had our fair share. Looking down at the patch again, I thought about all the ‘trials by fire’ I had gone through, and how each and every one of them had forged me into who I am today. Fire changes the makeup of whatever it consumes, and the fires that I have gone through were no different.

Leaving the washroom, I walked into another area of the factory, where the heavier industry was taking place. The loud, heavy hits of the presses molding the raw, hot metal sounded like the drums of war. The heat in this chamber was even more intense, but this time I embraced it, allowing it to envelop both my mind and body. The tools of war being forged below me, like the drums of war, beat inside my head. The closed my eyes, listening to the symphony of the factory. This was my ‘heavy metal.’ The sounds soothed me, reminding me of the cacophony of battle. I think I am starting to enjoy the life of a crusader.