"Be honest, boss," Preese muttered. "Did you really think this is what you'd be doing when you joined the HKs?"
"Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it."
Ryke shook his head, and concentrated on trudging his Hunter-Killer forward. He worried that if he stopped to take stock of the whirlwind of activity, he would truly understand how insane this all was and run for the hills.
"I don't get it," Qadira put in. "You've been fighting the Scraegans here for decades. Why do they want to talk now?"
"I think it's because they can't fight a war on two fronts any more," Ryke replied.
"How long do you think they've been fighting those things?" Koral asked, begrudging admiration in her voice.
"Probably as long as they've been fighting us." A hollow feeling filled his stomach as he found himself revaluating everything that had brought him here.
The entire time he'd been risking his life, hurling himself into the worst kinds of hell Rychter had to offer, the Scraegans had been fighting with one arm tied behind their backs. The siege of Brekka, the bloody clashes across all the southern towns – humanity had been clinging on by its fingertips in those regions, and now he knew they'd only been facing half of the might the Scraegans could truly bring to bear.
The revelation was destabilising. It also set a fresh sense of determination in him. If they really were about to work with the Scraegans to get rid of a greater threat, they needed to make sure that the war died with the Crawlers. If it didn't, and the Scraegan warbands could turn their full might northwards, Brekka was as good as gone. There would be no containing the conflict then.
It couldn't come to that.
"Tough bastards," Brigg rumbled, his Goliath stomping along at the rear of the column. "I guess that's why we never saw those things until we pushed south. The Scraegans kept them stuck here."
"Guess we owe them a favour," Ryke said.
Thaye snorted. "Now there's something you don't hear every day."
Speculation mounted privately among the pilots as the honour guard crunched its way south towards the meeting point the Scraegan Beta had indicated. At least they hoped it was a meeting point. With the vagueness of their communications it was impossible to know exactly what would be waiting. The Beta itself led the way, looking rather diminutive in the face of the human force following it.
Ryke's squadron were accompanied by Colonel De Lunta's HK-Warlock, the cream of Brekka's Hunter-Killer pilots. They were a fearsome sight, armour patterned with crimson and black, their shoulder shields marked with dozens of kill slashes. Many of them carried specialised armaments, from close range heavy scatter-guns to barbed and serrated shield edges. One of the Goliaths sported a shoulder cannon with glowing, fire-orange power conduits running its length. Ryke had no idea what it fired, but he knew he didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.
Flanking them were ten skiffs picked out by Colonel Hackley, and further back came a staggered formation of tanks and self-propelled guns with Lieutenant Gaul in command. The young northern armour commander seemed to have found his footing in the war, more self-assured after being in charge of his brigade for weeks now. The cynical part of Ryke's mind wondered, however, if Gaul had gotten this duty because Marshall Llewellyn was only willing to risk so many senior personnel on this mission.
It could still be a trap.
There had been intense debate on whether to go along with this at all, but the report from Sergeant Brackenshaw had tipped the balance. When footage circulated of the elite Scraegan kill squad arriving to finish what the humans had started, it made it clear that whatever their differences, both parties wanted the Crawlers dead.
Having a common enemy could overcome a lot.
So here they were, marching themselves out to beyond the edge of the River for all he knew, to join... join what exactly? Peace conference? War summit? For all he knew they'd answered a call to a duel and the finest Scraegan warriors would be waiting for them. He doubted that the Scraegans would be stupid enough to do something like that, but it wasn't impossible.
The meeting place came into view, faint and shimmering like a mirage at first, but solidifying through his Hunter-Killer's optics. An isolated outcropping of crags reached up out of the ragged earth of the badlands, like some kind of monster's claw. The largest of them loomed up easily fifty feet, arching gentle from east to west, its stony skin bleached by the baking suns of Rychter.
He also spotted the dark, bulky shapes of Scraegans moving in amongst the rocks.
"Lockjaw – SC-1," he said calmly into the comm. "I've got contacts at the target location."
"Copy that, Lockjaw," Hackley responded, unflappable as ever. "We see them. I expect they've seen us, too."
Hackley's assumption was quickly proven correct when the Scraegan Beta stomping along ahead of them flung its head back and let out a long, undulating bellow that echoed out across the badlands. It hung there for several seconds before eventually dying away. Ryke found himself tensing, hands tightening on the Hunter-Killer's weapon triggers. They might have found a new foe to fight together, but his instincts wouldn't be so easily pushed aside.
Another roar reverberated back across the plain towards them, this one much deeper and broader than the Beta's, like a roll of thunder. Ryke had his suspicions as to who it belonged to, and a tremor of anticipation shot up his spine. The formation of crags loomed larger in his view and soon he could see a rank of several Scraegan warriors moving out towards them, the immense figure of an Alpha in their centre.
The two sides met in the open, badlands air kicking up swirls of dust around them. For a moment, an eerie quiet descended on the plain, cushioned by the idling engines of Gaul's tanks and the grind of Hunter-Killer reactors. It occurred to Ryke that there ought to have been more fanfare for the occasion. A meeting of two factions that had been slaughtering each other for more than thirty years, with no shots fired – it was nothing short of momentous.
But right now, they didn't have the luxury of pomp and ceremony. This was a meeting born out of necessity. Without a word, their Scraegan escort thumped out in front of them and lowered its head to the Alpha in a gesture of subordination.
Raising its massive head, the Scraegan leader scanned the honour guard through large, shining eyes like slabs of onyx. The Alpha was a copper-furred brute looming far larger than a Hunter-Killer, sheathed in rough-looking plates of heavy black armour. To Ryke's surprise, this warrior carried no furnace cannon, one arm bare and ending in a blunt fist. The other paw clutched a barb-bladed sword almost as long as Ryke was tall, its tip resting lazily against the sand.
It grunted something in the Scraegan tongue. The Beta reeled off a sharp response, raising its head. Its commander lingered for a moment, then nodded, stepping aside. With its eyes fixed on Ryke's Hunter-Killer, it raised the sword blade and pointed towards the crags. At the gesture, the other Scraegans peeled aside to form a rough corridor of shaggy, armoured bodies.
"Permission to proceed?" Ryke asked quietly into the comm.
"Permission granted," De Lunta replied. "We're right behind you, son."
"Copy that." Clearing his throat, he exhaled a short breath before addressing his squad. "Alright, everybody, I want you all on your best behaviour. Let's do this."
And HK-Rupture led the human delegation onward.
They were corralled by the Scraegan escorts through the crags and into a large clearing amidst the rocks. Light from the twin suns roasted down between the swooping shadows of stone, and in the middle of the clearing stood a much larger version of the Scraegan map that the humans had been shown. This obelisk was easily ten meters from side to side, made up of seven interlocked slabs of sand-coloured stone, churning with fire from its inner heating systems.
"Drown me," Preese muttered. "That's some map."
Ryke smiled thinly, his eyes drawn to the Scraegans that littered the area. The warriors watched them, some skulking in amongst the surrounding stones while a handful of others stood around the map. Thankfully no cannons rose to aim at them, but he could see the tension in their hosts. Eyes narrowed; bodies tense and he saw canines bared from those closest to them.
The Alpha rumbled out a command and gestured for Ryke to keep moving, making a sweeping gesture to one side of the clearing. Hoping he intuited the instruction correctly, Ryke trudged on, forming gently ordering his troops to form a semi-circle to the left. De Lunta read the move; copied it to the opposite side.
Gaul's tanks were held outside the main clearing, with Scraegans barring their path, but they displayed no open hostility. They simply walked in front of the vehicles and raised paws, indicating they should halt.
"Hold your positions, Lieutenant," Hackley told the young tank commander. "I don't think we'll all fit into that clearing in the first place."
"All Hunter-Killers in position, ma'am," De Lunta chimed in. "No signs of hostile activity. If you still want to do this, I think now's the time."
"Copy that, Reaver. Wish us luck."
A moment later Colonel Vandeleen Hackley, leader of Brekka's Scout Cadre, walked out into the clearing, unarmed.
Despite her diminutive stature compared to the Scraegans all around her, she cut an impressive figure, armoured in black, head held high, the plate over one of her eyes marking her out as a combat veteran even to their hosts. Huge heads tracked her as she moved. Accompanied by a guard of five Scout Cadre troopers, Kelso walked slightly behind her, looking a little less sure of himself now under the gaze of the beasts.
"Ryke, if you've got any tips for getting used to this, now might be the time," his brother muttered uneasily.
Ryke let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I don't think there I've got any tips for attending a Scraegan war summit."
"Just thought I'd ask."
"Stay safe, Kelso."
"That's why you're here."
"No pressure."
Kelso turned his head long enough to focus on Ryke's Hunter-Killer and wink, before falling back into step with the others.
"You okay, Sarge?" Thaye asked quietly.
"I'm good." He nodded to himself. "Everybody just stay on your toes. We shouldn't have any surprises, but just in case..."
"We'll be ready," she assured him. "If they're dumb enough to try anything, we'll make them regret it."
Then it was out of his hands. Ryke had no choice but to watch and wait from inside his Hunter-Killer as Hackley and her entourage approached the map. One solider unfolded a large stand; another placed a broad data slate upon it and the machine flared into life. The Scraegan Alpha grunted a greeting. Hackley keyed in a command to the slate, and a simulated response barked out from the slate's speakers. Then she inclined her head to the Alpha, making absolutely sure the thing couldn't see her as a threat.
Ryke's eyes drifted to the map display as Hackley went through the necessary motions of politeness, his interested snared. Seeing the data up close on the Scraegan map, he could finally see a pattern, with the larger display showing some limited contouring of Rychter's landscape that he could just about recognise. The dark blotches spiralled deep into the Scraegar Labyrinth, into areas that no human had ever set foot. Since first contact all those decades ago, the impenetrable maze of crags and canyons had remained a mystery – a mythic hellscape that served as a frightening bedtime story to Rychter's colonists.
The Alpha took a hulking step towards the map, other Scraegans parting before it like moving mountains. Its sword rose, pointing to a blob of sizzling orange to the north of the Labyrinth. With its free paw it then pointed to the ground.
We are here.
A reference point.
In front of the map, under the watchful eye the Alpha, Kelso and Colonel Hackley exchanged muttered words, pointing at the burning slab display and keying things into their data slate. The officer in charge of the bodyguard stood alongside them – a slim man with dark skin who interjected occasionally, pointing to areas on their screen as they tried to match what they were being shown to with human maps. The process went on for minutes.
After a while the Alpha grunted impatiently. Hackley raised a hand; nodded. Then she pointed up at the black blizzard on southern section of the map and pressed a button on the data slate.
The Scraegan word 'All-Na' burst forth, extracting a chorus of growls and snarls from the assembled warriors. The Alpha simply inclined its head, no hint of emotion showing on its brutish face. Then it moved over to the map, pointing at a different section, far from where they were now, well to the west. Ryke didn't have a good gauge of distance on this thing, but it looked like somewhere near where their task force had been deployed.
A black scorch mark sat there, but it was different to the others that pockmarked the Scraegar Labyrinth. This one was surrounding by a bright, burning ring of crimson. The Alpha jammed its sword into the ground and pointed at the black circle. Then it took a step away, turned so that the humans got a good look at what it was about to do.
It brought both huge paws together, and pulled them apart, splaying its claws to mime what could only be an explosion.
Hackley hesitated for an instant before realising what she was being told. The quick-thinking Scout Colonel nodded, pointed at the circle and repeated the explosive gesture. Then she tapped herself on the chest and nodded again. That was us.
The Alpha rumbled in what sounded like an approving way. It started moving, brushing one paw across the top of the display in a surprisingly gently motion and passing over dozens of black scorches that denoted the Crawler hives. The big claws scraped gently against the stone as it moved, weaving that big hand around the labyrinth in a series of sweeping patterns before finally settling on a huge, dark smear, deep in the southeast region. Its paw went flat, and it looked pointedly back at Hackley.
Even from this distance he saw her shoulders hunching with unease, but she didn't flinch. She extended a hand and made a gesture for the Scraegan to continue.
What it did next shocked him.
The Alpha stepped back from the map and brought its immense, boulder-like paws together in front of its chest, its shining eyes boring down on Hackley with such intensity that Ryke feared she might combust from the pressure.
Then the Scraegan leader mimed making an explosion again, only this time it pulled its paws apart much slower than before, spreading until its arms were almost at full extension to either side of its massive chest. It huffed out a breath through its nostrils, slumped its shoulders and thumped a fist against the big black scorch to confirm its target. Its free paw shot out, one scarred claw extending to point at Colonel Hackley.
For a moment no-one spoke. Hackley and Kelso exchanged stunned glances; the scout officer accompanying them pressed his hands together against his mouth, staring at the Alpha through narrow eyes. Then it dawned on them all just why the human delegation had been summoned here.
"Oh, pissing Rivers," Preese gasped.
Ryke let out an impressed whistle. "Well, I guess we know what they want."
"Reaver – SC-1," De Lunta's voice speared over the command band, thick with incredulity. "Are they asking for what I think they're asking for?"
"It looks like it, colonel," Hackley replied, turning to face the De Lunta's Hunter-Killer. She shook her head with a grim chuckle and nodded to him. "You'd better pass the word back to command. I think our friends want another bomb, but this one's going to need to kick a lot harder."