"Copy that, SC-21 – on your lead," Ryke confirmed over the comm, pounding his mech into position at the centre of the line.
Their deployment orders flashed up on the HUD, every mech getting the same read out. He examined it intently, and felt a surge of anticipation. Everything Brackenshaw was doing served to create an open corridor for the Hunter-Killers to bludgeon their way straight down the throat of any Scraegan defences. He could feel adrenaline already seeping into his system at the prospect of being in the thick of battle once more.
He wanted some true retribution for the pilots he'd lost. All the mysteries and all the politics faded into insignificance as he prepared himself for frontline combat. Their route kept them out of sight in the shaded dips between the dunes, and Brackenshaw's deployment of scouts and armour would keep the Scraegans off balance until the last possible moment. He switched to the squad-wide band, a grim smile of anticipation crossing his face.
"Lockjaw to all pilots," he said as he increased his pace. "Spin up all weapons and check all combat systems."
Acknowledgements snapped through the comm from his pilots, rattling down the chain with bloodthirsty efficiency. Green readouts flashed up on the HUD as one by one they transmitted their combat readiness signals. Ryke's own mech showed every reading in the green, with ammo counters and armour integrity all showing optimal.
"Lockjaw – Sharps," he called to HK-Praxis.
"Go ahead."
"We'll take the lead and knock down the front door. You follow us in."
"Copy that," Charpente answered with a hint of venom in her voice. "Make sure you knock nice and loud."
She sounded perfectly happy for Ryke's troops to take the lead, and for his part, he wouldn't have had it any other way. The twenty battle mechs thumped their way through the gully in pairs, forced into a narrow snaking column by the valleys. On their own they might have been vulnerable in such a position, but the pincer forces of scouts and heavy armour would ensure the Scraegans never got the chance to execute any kind of pre-emptive strike when they were hit from all sides.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched the column of heavy tanks under Lieutenant Gaul's command swing away to the west, moving to their assigned bombardment positions. A phalanx of self-propelled artillery pieces and low-hulled battle tanks, it was a force that, given the opportunity, could flatten the warren they were about to assault. On either side, the fast moving scout skiffs screened the lighter armoured vehicles and militia transports as they swept into their assigned positions.
For the moment, however, Ryke's short range seismics detected nothing in the immediate area, no Scraegan defensive forces rushing out to meet them. He knew from grim experience that the lack of reading didn't mean there was nothing there, but they had their orders. They were going in.
"AC-8 to all units," Lieutenant Gaul declared over the comm. "We are two minutes from bombardment range."
"Copy that," Brackenshaw replied. "Flanking elements will be in position in ninety seconds. HK-Rupture, you ready to break something?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ryke growled back. "Two minutes from staging area. Once you light this up we'll be ready."
Like the claws of a lifting drill the three arms of the human attack force slowly closed into position, squeezing down on the small jut of stone that was the Scraegan warren. Ryke could see it all forming on his HUD, as simple and elegant as a game. The snake of the Hunter-Killer force pulled into position between two rock-littered dunes, staying out of sight of the entrance until the rest of the task force had taken up their positions.
"All units be advised," Sergeant Boxley's warning cry came over the comm. "We have seismic activity in the target zone. I think somebody rang the alarm."
"Copy that." Brackenshaw sounded alarmingly cold and collected. "Spin up all mine launchers. Gaul, we'll surface them. You knock them down."
"Will do, ma'am. All guns targeted, firing solutions are live."
Ryke was gratified to finally hear a measure of steel entering the armour commander's voice. Gaul seemed like a competent enough officer, but he needed that cutting edge, that killer instinct to become someone that could be trusted to face off against the Scraegans. Maybe he was finally starting to find it. Or losing so many of his comrades in the ambush was finally manifesting into anger in the young tank commander.
"Lockjaw to all pilots," he said. "Standard skirmish line deployment. Once the armour softens them up, we go in hard and fast. Raptors on the flanks, Riots screening and Goliaths behind. Lockjaw – Sharps?"
"Go ahead, Lockjaw."
"We're going to drive straight for the main entrance. Watch our flanks – make sure we don't end up with any nasty surprises."
"Copy that. All units ready for combat deployment."
"Good hunting, Sharps."
"You too, Vannigan."
The time for talking ended when Brackenshaw's flanking forces opened fire. The Scout Cadre skiffs and light crawlers from Gaul's armour brigade lobbed three staggered volleys of mines out over the plain. The whirling, toothed barrels tore into the ground, spewing huge fountains of pulverised grit like geyser as they dug deep before detonating, sub-sonic shock waves reverberating out across the plain.
It didn't take long for Scraegan defenders to appear, dragging themselves from the shattered ground in a jumble of heavy limbs, milling aimlessly in a manner that Ryke found distinctly odd. The mines were hardly new weapons. He'd seen whole Scraegan packs forced to the surface arrive in battle formation, furnace cannons already charging. These looked stunned. He wondered if they had encountered some equivalent of a Scraegan civilian militia out on these flanks, while their hardened troops battled in the centre against the main thrust of the human army.
Thunder drowned out his thoughts when Gaul's heavy guns opened up, unleashing a murderous salvo from their position atop the dunes. Fresh craters were blasted into existence all around the Scraegans, several of them falling in bloodied heaps as rounds found their mark. The Scout Cadre and light vehicles added a blizzard of armour piercing shots from the flanks, militia troops spilling from their transports and spreading out into staggered firing lines.
More shots from the heavy armour whipped overhead to batter the rock-armoured surface entrance to the warren. Chunks of masonry disintegrated under the destructive power of the guns, paving the way for Ryke's force. He decided they had waited long enough.
"Lockjaw – all units," he barked over the radio. "Hunter-Killers are moving in. Hold your fire."
A flurry of confirmations rattled through the comm from the unit commanders and Ryke didn't waste another second, racing out into the open battlefield with the Hunter-Killers of HK-Rupture spreading out to either side of him in a wall of metal. His optics pierced the fog of shattered dirt and grit, revealing maybe a dozen surviving Scraegans between them and their target.
"Weapons free!" he bellowed, spinning up his cannon and opening fire. Errant furnace shots hurtled out of the gloom in response, but the blasts were taken in haste, ploughing through earth or searing harmlessly over the heads of the onrushing battle mechs.
He barged straight past the first Scraegan that got in his way, twisting his Hunter-Killer in a savage spin that smashed the shoulder shield into the warrior's skull. It tumbled away, howling, as the Hunter-Killers rampaged forward. On the flanks Kim and the new pilot, Mayder Ricardo, corralled their foes while the Riot mechs smashed a hole in the line.
He saw Thaye hurdle a Scraegan corpse to get at the enemy beyond, punching it with her warblade and opened a gouge in its throat. Qadira acquitted herself stolidly, rotating through a straggled handful of foes with mechanical control, snapping of clipped bursts of fire from her cannon and turning aside blows with almost dainty motions of her shield. To his right, Preese, Koral and the rookie pilot, Carpenter pressed forward. Brigg and Brody stumped along in their wake, lashing shells at anything that moved.
The mechs of HK-Praxis followed them in, spread in a broad skirmish line to mop up the scattering defence force. The resistance had been surprisingly light, from Ryke's experience, but he didn't have time to think about that now. HK-Rupture tore through the Scraegan pack, racing for the warren entrance.
"Lockjaw – AC-8," he snapped. "Target the front door. We are on approach."
A moment later Gaul's gunners showed their skill, lobbing shells over the melee to smash the last pieces of the entrance apart. Half of the door slate collapsed inward on itself under the impact of several direct hits from the human artillery, and Ryke arrived seconds later.
"HK-Rupture, on my lead!" he roared, a familiar command that sent adrenaline coursing through his veins as he hurled himself through the aperture.
A low-ceilinged chamber yawned out in front of him, dimly lit by gently burning braziers, some that had been tipped over by the shock waves, embers now licking at the stonework. Half a dozen passages coiled away from them down into the rock and his Hunter-Killer's sensors quickly began painting a picture of the warren.
He'd only been inside one of these places before, and had no idea if there were standard layouts, but looking at the tunnels that spiderwebbed across his HUD this one seemed similar. The tunnels converged towards a central chamber at the base, with dozens of smaller rooms branching off in all directions.
But, oddly, he didn't see any Scraegans. HK-Rupture fanned out to secure the tunnel mouths, but confusion reigned in his mind. The last time he'd breached a Scraegan warren the fighting in the entrance chamber had been ferocious.
"Where is everybody?" Thaye chimed blithely, having noticed the same absence of hostile targets. "Not even a welcome mat?"
"Maybe there's only a skeleton force stationed here," Brody suggested as his Goliath crunched forward, shoulder cannon traversing left and right.
Ryke frowned. "HK-Rupture – SC-21?"
"Reading you loud and clear, Vannigan," Brackenshaw replied.
"We've breached the warren," he told her. "But no-one's home."
"No defenders?"
"Not in the entrance chamber." Ryke shook his head, discomfort crawling on his skin. "Orders?"
"Proceed on mission," she told him, but he could hear the apprehension in her voice too. "You and HK-Praxis proceed into the lower levels. We'll move support units up to secure the entranceway. Proceed with caution."
"Copy that, SC-21. Proceeding on mission." He flicked the comm over the Charpente. "Lockjaw – Sharps. You get all that?"
"Loud and clear, Lockjaw."
"Let's sweep this place from top to bottom. You take the eastern tunnels, we'll take the west. Rendezvous at the central chamber, comm checks every ten minutes."
"See you there," Charpente answered, and already he saw her squad deploying to the passages to the east side of the entrance chamber. "Save a cold one for us if you get there first."
"On my honour. Lockjaw out."
After a cursory check of his mech for damage, Ryke set off in the opposite direction, and his pilots readied themselves to descend into the depths. The agile Raptors deployed to the front and rear of the column, with the hulking Goliaths sandwiched in a protective shield of Riot frontline mechs.
"Haunter – Lockjaw," came the call from Kim. Her Raptor loped along a dozen meters out in front to allow her space to manoeuvre in case of any surprises.
"Go ahead."
"Seismics are all over the place, sarge," she said, an air of anxiety creeping into her voice. "I've got readings all around us, varying distance."
Ryke tensed. "Scraegans?"
"That would be my guess, but their movements are erratic. They're not converging on us. Some readings are disappearing and reappearing. It's weird. They're scattered through the lower levels – some aren't even inside the warren from the looks of it."
The discomfort he felt returned with a vengeance. He narrowed his eyes as Kim bounced her readings to his HUD. Sure enough, an erratic spray of red indicators infested the lower levels of the complex and beyond, with no discernable order to them.
"Stay loose up there," he ordered. "Everybody keep your weapons hot. Move slow and steady. We've still got a job to do."
HK-Rupture pressed on, winding down a broad primary tunnel, and Ryke made sure to capture as much as he could on his combat cam as they went. Smaller passages and rooms branched off from this one – he saw what looked like huge hearths with gurgling wells bored deep down into Rychter's foundations. Hewn slabs of stone were arranged around it, like benches, or even beds.
He found himself wondering if this place was truly a fortification, or just a settlement repurposed for the war. Towns like Alldeep and Crescentscar had been transformed from mining communities into military outposts, bristling with guns and wrapped in walls. He supposed the Scraegans would take similar steps. But if this was a settlement why weren't they defending it from the Hunter-Killer advance?
"Lockjaw, we have incoming," Kim snapped suddenly, wrenching him from his thoughts. "I'm picking up a lot of movement through the next junction. Something's coming our way fast. By the seismics at least eight to ten Scraegans."
"Close up," Ryke snapped instantly. "Combat pairings. Hit them head on."
The well-drilled pilots of his squad moved with the ease of experience, the veterans guiding the newcomers into place. Thaye slotted into place alongside him, warblade shining with readiness as the pair took point.
They rounded the corner into a junction of passages, and ran straight into the pack of Scraegans thundering in the opposite direction. There was a brief instant of hesitation, like a held breath, before Scraegan battle roars ripped through the halls and all hell broke loose.
"Tear 'em up!" Ryke managed to yell before twisting to block a swinging length of barbed metal on his shield. Thaye launched herself forward past him, cannon blazing and warblade hacking. A brutal melee erupted in the tight confines of warren where in reality, his orders meant very little. The pilots had to rely on their combat partners and their own skill.
Point blank furnace cannon blasts sent heat warnings screaming across his HUD. Brigg took a direct hit to his shoulder shield, but the Goliath's reinforced armour-plating withstood the searing impact. Molten metal dripped from its edges as he stepped forward, swinging a savage haymaker into the jaw of the Scraegan responsible. Servos screamed and bone shattered with the force of the impact.
Ripping his warblade loose from the chest of a Scraegan, he left the wounded creature on the ground and tried to take stock. What he saw, was an enemy warrior bearing down on one of his pilots from behind, charging at full speed.
"Carpenter, your six!" he roared.
The rookie pilot whirled around at his warning and reacted with fearsome speed. She didn't panic, instead surging upwards to meet the Scraegan and swinging a savage uppercut that buried her warblade into the base of the warrior's jaw. Black blood fountained from the killer blow, but the beast's momentum carried it forward. With her blade lodged in its skull, Carpenter was born backwards by the weight and both Hunter-Killer and Scraegan went crashing to the ground.
They thrashed around wildly, the Scraegan jerking and flailing in its death throes as Carpenter's warblade drove deep into its brain. She managed to bunch the legs of her Hunter-Killer and jam the toothed feet into the warrior's torso. Her roar of exertion rippled over the comms as she shoved, propelling the dying beast away. Her blade wrenched loose and she crashed down flat on her back, only for a second Scraegan to loom into position, a massive, serrated sword swinging down towards the Hunter-Killer's head section.
Out of nowhere, Preese lunged into the Scraegan's path, deflecting the killing blow with the slope of his shield as he dove in low to protect his combat partner. His cannon whirled into life as he pivoted, thumping point blank shots up the warrior's flank. It spun with a roar, lashing out with its free hand to ram a boulder of a fist into the chest plate of the Hunter-Killer.
He stumbled back. Ryke barrelled forward into the fray, putting the full weight of his mech behind the shoulder shield as he rammed the Scraegan. It was knocked flat, but rolled clear and disappeared down another passage before they could give chase.
The skirmish ended as abruptly as it started. All of a sudden the Hunter-Killers stood in a passage with a handful of dead Scraegans in it, and nothing else.
"Sound off," Ryke panted. "Damage checks, now."
"My shield is slagged," Brigg muttered, sounding more annoyed than anything else. "But all combat systems still functional."
"Loading gyro for my cannon is damaged," Ricardo called through next. His voice trembled with a mix of exhilaration and fear.
"Spin it down and disengage the loader," Ryke told him calmly. "Stick to close combat. If a shell jams in there and detonates you could lose functionality of the arm completely."
"Copy that."
A few other reports of minor damage filtered through from the group, but they had come through largely unscathed. The surviving enemies had disappeared, once again delivering a fight of strange half-heartedness. Something felt achingly wrong about all of this. Ryke wanted to withdraw his force, an undefinable fear tugging at him that said: get out, get out, get out.
That fear had nothing rational to back it up, though. They had to press on.
Reforming their ranks, HK-Rupture set off, moving down the passage the Scraegan pack had emerged from. Seismic readings from the Raptor mechs continued to display a strange, unhelpful puzzle of moving parts in the warren and beyond, most of it far beyond their combat zone. Why were the Scraegans milling around out there? He might have understood if they had been consolidating for a counter attack, but all he saw was as disorganised mess that flickered and changed minute by minute.
At the base of this tunnel Ryke stumped out into a secondary chamber easily thirty meters across, with another broad well of water dug straight into the unyielding ground. More slabs were scattered around it, and on the walls he could see murals that looked like they'd been burned into the stonework. The designs were alien to him, made up of trains of interlocking squares and rectangles that sprawled and coiled in on themselves without rhyme or reason.
The artwork, however, would have to wait. The chamber was also littered with the bodies of several dead Scraegans. That in itself would have been strange enough, but on closer inspection he could see these ones weren't even armed – a sight he'd never seen before.
"Ryke, what in the Everflowing is going on down here?" Preese murmured.
Ryke shook his head as the Hunter-Killers spread out through the room. "I have no idea." He bit his lip, scanning the area with his optics. A sick feeling took root in his stomach when he saw the same strange marks scored into the walls and floor that he'd seen in the valley. Sections of the ground looked smashed and churned at random intervals, as though they'd been dug up.
"Seismics?"
"Nothing close," Kim answered. "What about you, Ricky-boy?"
"I got nothing," Ricardo confirmed from the other Raptor mech. "Nearest reading is sixty meters below us and moving away."
"Vannigan," Qadira cut in. "Over here."
He pivoted to look and saw her mech hunkered down over one of the bodies. She gestured to it with one armoured hand. "Same wounds that we found out in the valleys. Whatever happened there is happening here."
Before he could reply, something enormous exploded out of the ground behind her.