Compared to the battle that raged in the outer districts of the city, the Forge was a site of relative calm, but he could feel the tension on the air. Gleaming, unfired gun emplacements directed their gaze towards the sounds of combat, night having now fallen completely over Brekka's war torn streets. The dull clamour of gunfire settled into the background, his ears having adjusted to the near-constant din over the past several days.
Groups of soldiers manned raised platforms and huge toothed barriers had been raised to block sections of the street, making any attacking force have to zig-zag its way through a brutal killing field.
Fortunately the skiff he and Ivy had hitched a ride on didn't have to worry about the guns as it slalomed its way forward through the defences. At the far end of the avenue that dominated Brekka's central district the Forge itself rose up defiantly in the night sky, a flat-topped, armoured pyramid of metal that bristled with colossal guns, the glint of reinforced windows and the lurid glare of searchlights.
A pair of Hunter-Killers in jet black armour flanked the main entrance, machine heads swivelling left and right as they tracked the flow of personnel. Side entrances thronged with soldiers and support staff and on the upper levels the chamber of Brekka's ruling Commissariat would be in session continuously as the battle unfolded. Ryke wondered what they would say once they discovered the plan he wanted to set in motion.
"Alright, out, out!" barked the Scout Cadre captain who'd allowed them onto his skiff. "West entrance is for non-essential support staff. Go!"
Ryke threw the man a quick salute and then slithered awkwardly down the rappel line that dangled from the skiff's open flank. He hit the ground, stumbled, and then stepped clear as Ivy followed him down with considerably more grace. They both had to shield their eyes as the skiff's engines flared, blasting them with a shower of grit.
"You sure about this?" Ivy asked, grimacing as she scrubbed the residue from her face with one hand.
"Pretty sure." Ryke shrugged and motioned her to follow. "Let's just do this before I change my mind."
The pair joined the flow of support staff at the side entrance of the Forge, rank insignias being checked half-heartedly by guards at the gaping set of double doors – none wanted to slow down their comrades any more than was absolutely necessary. Glancing at the digital counter display above the doorway Ryke swallowed hard. He had two hours before he was technically back on duty – back in the carnage of battle.
With Ivy tucked alongside him he joined one of the queues and together they shuffled forward to the guard post until they reached a weary-looking corporal, his anti-armour rifle hanging loose from its strap around his shoulder. The man looked them up and down, weathered features cracking in confusion.
"You're a long way out from the Basin, Hunter-Killer," he challenged in a hoarse voice, stepping ever so slightly sideways to bar their path. "State your business. No unauthorised entries to Forge command."
"But I have authorisation," Ryke blurted.
"Check with Specialist 1st Class, Kelso Vannigan," Ivy continued in a measurably calmer voice. "He's a coordinator at Forge CC12A."
The guard reached for the radio clipped to his armour, but before he could do as she asked, a familiar voice echoed up over the hubbub.
"Corporal!" Ryke looked over the man's shoulder to find that at that moment Kelso was running down the corridor towards them and waving frantically. "Corporal, let them through – Forge authorisation is confirmed!"
He skidded to a halt and flashed his shoulder rank insignia. The guard glanced at Kelso and back to the teenagers in front of him. Then, with a noncommittal grunt he stepped aside and waved them through. Exhaling a breath of relief, Ryke darted eagerly past the checkpoint and raced up to his older brother, embracing him tightly.
"By the Everflowing it's good to see you," he gasped as they pulled apart.
"You too," Kelso replied, his voice tight and scratchy from shouting orders across the comms for days on end. He gave Ivy a nod. "Ives – how you holding up?"
"Still riding the flow, sir," she replied with a salute.
"Well, you two better be damn sure about this, because I just stuck my professional neck on the chopping block to get you in here. By rights you should be riveted to Stamm Basin."
"Kelso, you know I'm right."
"I know there's a chance you're right," Kelso corrected as he turned and started walking. "Luckily it's not going to be my call. Now come on, and get ready to talk fast."
Ryke fell into step with him, feeling his heartbeat quicken. "Who am I speaking to?"
"Theikvaal and Hackley; a few of the Commissariat's chief tactical ministers. They're digging their heels in deep, Ryke. Right now they're more than willing to keep fighting just to kill as many Scraegans as possible and hang the consequences."
"They have to know what the Scraegans are doing."
"Well of course they do!" Kelso snapped. "It's not exactly subtle. They've been trying to brute force their way straight to the Forge, and judging from how our guest has been reacting it knows its friends are coming to the rescue."
"I...meaning what?"
"It's going berserk, Ryke."
"So what are they going to do?"
"What do you think?" his brother gave him a grim look. "The people making the decisions up there? They've been fighting the Scraegans a lot longer than you or me, and they are not about to give up what to them is the only piece of possible intelligence they've had in years. If it comes to it they'll kill that thing before they let it go home."
"We can't let them do that – this is crazy!"
"It's not me you need to convince, Ryke."
Bristling, Ryke squared his shoulders and nodded as Kelso led them to a shuttle elevator. A pair of administrative officers spilled out when the armoured doors parted, leaving an empty metal-walled cube behind. The trio piled in and Kelso punched in an access code to the machines antiquated-looking keypad. A display blinked into life – old geometric white letters on a black screen: IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED.
His brother quickly thumbed a button in the upper section and a few seconds later they were climbing into the inner sanctum of the Forge. Lights flickered in the elevator shaft and as they moved up level after level he caught snatches of muffled noise. The elevator stopped three times on their way up, loading and disgorging Commissariat ministers, their staff, senior officers, specialists and administrators throughout the facility.
Eventually the elevator groaned to a halt at their destination and Kelso quickly ushered them out, shepherding the two teenagers through passages that thronged with crisply-uniformed, high ranking officers. Ryke kept his eyes front, ignoring the confused glances as some of the people noticed the lowly Hunter-Killer and engineer that had been granted access to their domain.
They twisted through two blocky corridors before Kelso steered them into a small briefing room. The walls were the colour of soft red sandstone, shining from the ceiling light discs. An octagonal table dominated the chamber with a dormant viewing display built into its centre, and around the table sat five individuals.
Two he recognised instantly – Colonel Hackley and General Thiekvaal – both looking somewhat perplexed by the sudden meeting. The other three wore the deep gore-red uniforms of Commissariat representatives: a middle aged woman with short curls of black hair and skin the colour of burnished brass; two men, one pale, hollow cheeked and slim, the other a portly individual with dark skin and a greying goatee around his small mouth.
"Sir, Ma'am," Kelso said quickly, saluting and indicating for Ryke and Ivy to do the same. They complied quickly. "Ministers – thank you for meeting us on such short notice." He glanced at Ryke and indicated the trio. "These are Commissariat Ministers Khazwari, Caletz and Yanfoukis – part of the tactical deployment subcommittee."
"There's still a war on, Specialist," Theikvaal rumbled. "Dispense with the pleasantries. You said this was an emergency meeting that concerned the internal security in the Forge."
"And it does... sort of."
"What in the River is that supposed to mean?"
"Sir, please!"
The portly minister smoothed down his jacket with one hand, waving Theikvaal to remain quiet with the other. Then he rose and strode around the table, ignoring Kelso and extending a hand for Ryke to shake.
"Minister Khazwari," he said calmly in a soft, almost syrupy voice. "And I suspect you are why we are here. You are...?"
"Sergeant Ryke Vannigan, sir," he replied, shaking the man's hand and saluting. "Commander of Hunter-Killer squadron HK-Rupture."
Khazwari nodded slowly then his gaze flickered to Ivy as he released Ryke's hand. "And you?"
"Corporal Ivy Shanklin, sir, 15th EC Armourer's platoon." Another salute.
"And what brings you both here?"
"We need to speak to you about the prisoner."
The hollow-cheeked man, Caletz, stiffened at that. "Indeed? And what would you know about the captive?"
"A hell of a lot more than you, seeing as he spoke to it," Ivy blurted out.
"Easy, Corporal," Colonel Hackley cautioned.
"Sorry, ma'am."
"Though she's not wrong, Minister." Hackley inclined her head to Ryke. "Not only did he speak to the creature in an attempt to gain intelligence, he was also part of the operation that brought it to us in the first place. By most people's standards that makes him an expert."
He saw a flicker of a smile cross Minister Yanfoukis' face, the woman casting a sidelong glance at her colleague.
She gained control of herself quickly, however, and looked him in the eye as she spoke. "Time is short, Sergeant Vannigan. Speak your piece."
"Yes, ma'am." He felt a swift, reassuring squeeze on his elbow from Ivy as he stepped forward to the table, clasping his hands behind his back to stop his fingers from fidgeting and standing to attention. "I think it is clear to everyone that the Scraegans have only attacked Brekka like this because we have one of their people as a prisoner."
"Yes," Caletz huffed impatiently. "All the proof we need of the thing's importance."
"That may well be true," Ryke continued. "But no matter how important we might think it is, it's not as important as Brekka."
Yanfoukis shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What exactly are you getting at, Sergeant?"
Ryke jerked his head towards the thin window slit of the briefing room. "I don't know how much you've seen of what's really happening out there, Minister, but it is a bloodbath on those streets. I may not be a general or a member of the Commissariat but I'm not stupid. We can't sustain this for long."
"We can if we have to, Vannigan" Thiekvaal grated. "I think you're underestimating yourself and your comrades."
"With respect, sir, I don't think I am." Ryke's skin crawled as he skirted to the edge of outright insubordination. Theivkvaal, however, chose not to press the point there and then, which he took as tacit permission to continue. "If we keep going as we are the consequences, even if we somehow drive them away...the damage is done."
"He's right," Ivy said, managing to keep her tone more respectful this time. "I am in Stamm Basin every day trying to turnaround damaged Hunter-Killers, Scout Cadre skiffs, organising combat resupply and field repair, trying to keep everyone and everything armed for battle. We're stretched to breaking point.
Ryke nodded. "We are putting bodies and machines into the grinder and I believe we are doing it under a false assumption."
That got Hackley's attention, the Scout Colonel straightening sharply. "What assumption?"
"That there is anything to be gained, tactically, from keeping that thing locked in the Forge."
The group exchanged confused looks before Khazwari spoke. "You don't think our interrogations will come to anything?"
"I don't know for sure, but have we learned anything of actual value?"
"In the grand scheme of things, Sergeant Vannigan, it has not been our guest for a very long time." The minister spread his hands, as though inviting Ryke to embrace his point of view. "I believe more time would yield greater results."
"It's time we don't have," Ryke replied quickly. "And even if you had it, it may not even matter. That thing, it isn't an Alpha."
"We know that," Hackley said.
"And we all thought hat made it more important, not less, because it was something we hadn't seen before."
"Spit it out, Sergeant," Yanfoukis snapped.
"I was there when we captured it. That thing is no military commander – it's their equivalent of a priest! You could keep it here for years and learn nothing about how to actually fight the Scraegans. That's not what it does."
Yanfoukis shook her head. "You cannot be sure of that."
"Respectfully, ma'am, surer than you."
"We can disagree about what its role is," Caletz interjected. "But I don't see how any of this is relevant. We are wasting our time with semantics while the Scraegans are fighting their way to us."
Ryke blinked in amazement. "It's relevant because that thing is the only reason the Scraegans came within a hundred miles of Brekka! When we captured it we guaranteed this battle, and it is only worth it if there is something to gain. I don't believe that there is because the prisoner you have isn't even part of their military caste! It's...useless!"
The word tasted like ash coming out of his mouth. Good pilots had died capturing this creature – pilots like Jarrko – and here he was saying that their sacrifices meant nothing. But he knew it had to be true. Not once had they seen such a thing on the battlefield, ever. The captive was some kind of spiritual leader, important perhaps for moral, but in terms of extracting information he truly didn't believe it had anything to offer.
No-one spoke for a moment, the import of his words sinking in slowly. He could see the frustration on Hackley's face, an awkward tension that came from having a worst fear confirmed. She had to have figured this out somewhere in the back of her mind. Probably plenty of people had. They had simply been clinging to what they thought was a victory after so many years of being ground down by the Scraegans.
"What, precisely, are you suggesting?" Khazwari asked, his voice still maintaining the same quiet calm.
"That if the Scraegans are here for that thing, I say we give it to them!"
"Release the prisoner?"
"Yes!" He looked around, hunting for a sympathetic face. "They have no other reason to be here. If we release their priest... shaman, whatever you want to call it, they'll probably leave! They've lost hundreds, maybe thousands trying to take Brekka. When have they ever been willing to sustain those kinds of losses? This goes against everything we know about them."
"You want to let this thing out and hope they go away? It's going crazy in that holding cell," Hackley told him. "It'll start killing people the moment we open that cell."
"I spoke to it once and came out in one piece." Ryke tapped an index finger to his chest. "I can do it again."
"This is insane!" Minister Caletz exploded suddenly, throwing his hands up in despair and turning a smouldering glare on Kelso. "You brought this pilot to the Forge and wasted our time in the middle of a war for this?! He should be on the front lines fighting to protect this city; failing that, a court martial for dereliction of duty. This is pure cowardice-,"
"That is more than far enough, Minister!" Hackley cut him off with a venomous snarl. She pivoted in her seat to face Caletz, her posture like woman readying herself for a fist-fight. "Sergeant Vannigan has fought harder than most to keep you and the Commissariat safe while you dictate orders from the high towers. While I might not agree with everything he has just said, I will not stand here and have a loyal soldier of Brekka disrespected by a glorified bureaucrat!"
"Indeed," Theikvaal grunted. "Pick your words more carefully, Minister."
"But this is a fantasy," Caletz persisted, his beady eyes narrow with fury, sweat beading on his brow as he looked desperately around the room. "Do not tell me any of you are seriously considering this? We have been at war with the Scraegans for decades and this boy thinks we can make peace in an afternoon?!"
"I'm not talking about making peace!" Ryke bellowed, slamming his clenched fist down against the table so hard that pain rocketed up his arm. "I'm talking about survival!" He pointed behind him, out towards the city, muscles clenching tight as he threw rank and respect to the winds. "There won't be a Brekka left to defend if we don't put a stop to this, now. The reality that you are too blind or too stupid to grasp is that we have already lost this battle! They are going to get here sooner or later. We can either have them walk over the corpses of everyone in this city, or we can release our prisoner and live to fight another day."
His voice rang around the room, a grit-filled, furious echo that left stunned silence in its wake. The ministers glanced at each other; Caletz bristled, glaring at him while, to his surprise, a smirk crawled across the lips of Khazwari.
"He's right," Ivy said, looking beseechingly at the trio of Commissariat Ministers. "We've got to try. I don't feel like dying just yet."
"Even if we entertain this...notion," Minister Yanfoukis said eventually with a fatalistic shake of her head. "Do you really think the Scraegans are just going to walk away after all this? After the blood that has been spilled here? We'd be admitting defeat. We'd be inviting them in to cut our throats."
"I don't think they'll do it."
"And why by the Everflowing River would you think that?"
"The Scraegan attacks have followed a pattern," Kelso interjected. "In the opening days of the attack they threw everything they had at us to try and crack Brekka open, and they took massive casualties doing so. In the subsequent days they have changed their tactics. They are being more careful with their lives. Their numbers aren't infinite."
"How does that pertain to the prisoner?"
"They've been driving to the Forge ever since they broke into the city. It's pretty clear they only want their comrade back. They're trying to minimise casualties so that they still have an army when they get what they want."
"Then we should keep fighting!" Caletz snapped. "We can outlast them."
Ryke shook his head. "You don't know that. At this rate we could just end up wiping each other out!"
"Or we could deal a serious blow the Scraegan forces operating in the southern continent!"
"That's a gamble that could cost us the southern continent and get every single person in Brekka killed in the process," Khazwari replied, almost nonchalantly. Ignoring the furious gaze of his colleague, he cupped his stubbled chin in one hand, lips pursed in thought. "Hypothetically, let us say we return their ... shaman to them. If Sergeant Vannigan is wrong, and the Scraegans simply continue their attack our tactical position will not have been greatly altered. At this point, we at least have sufficient standing forces to hold them at bay and facilitate an orderly evacuation of the city if it comes to that. However, if he is right and the return of the prisoner is enough to make Scraegans withdraw – having got what they came for – I believe that is the more prudent option. No matter what happens now Brekka's military power has already been crippled. If we can stop the bleeding I would suggest we do so."
"You're going along with this?!"
"Yes, Minister Caletz, I am." Khazwari turned on his heel, looking Ryke in the eye. "Do you truly think you can communicate our intentions to the prisoner?"
Saluting sharply, Ryke nodded once. "I do, sir!"
"Then I'm inclined to let you try."
"You can't just do this – there has to be a vote-,"
"There isn't time," Yanfoukis interjected. "Call a vote if you wish, Minister, but I am with Khazwari. I say we let Vannigan try."
"And me." Hackley stood up in her seat, looking Ryke in the eye. Her fists were clenched white-knuckled by her sides but she gave him a stiff nod. Then she looked to General Theikvaal expectantly.
The old soldier's shoulders were hunched, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the table. Ryke could see the conflict clawing at him – the very idea of giving the Scraegans what they wanted fighting against any and all rationale. Ryke would have been lying if he said he didn't get the same feeling.
But they had to put those feelings aside now. All of them. He waited, watching Theikvaal with his heart pounding. When the general finally spoke his voice was a coarse whisper.
"Riverlords forgive me." Theikvaal looked to Hackley, then Ryke, then to the ministers. Five whole seconds dragged agonizingly by before his shoulders sagged and he spoke two words:
"Do it."