For now, however, they were committed. They had a plan and damned if he would be the one to pull away from it. Even so, he intended to demand that the Prophet provide some answers while they collected themselves. It was an easy climb to the mesa using the steps provided. There might be a couple of mechs waiting for them as a last line of defense, but the bulk of the fighting was finished for the night.
For now, anyway.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Regrouping after the battle proved more challenging than Hammerhand had anticipated. Over the past few days, he had found that they were increasingly involved in the complicated kind of battle and with every moment, it became more difficult to decide what the right move was.
In this case, there was prolonged discussion over what should be done with the defenders who had surrendered. There was no way they could simply kill their prisoners outright but leaving them in their mechs was also not an option. Even without weapons, they were too much of a threat.
Leaving the mechs behind was clearly not the way to go either since virtually anyone could stroll in and take them for themselves. While that might not be a problem if such strangers proved to have integrity and could be prevailed upon to support them, but the chances of that were nothing short of miraculous. The most likely scenario was the type of dissolute raiders the Knights spent most of their time eliminating.
It was eventually decided that some of the Prophet's men would remain on the ground. These were mostly the dune buggies and smaller mechs that would have trouble climbing the mesa anyway, and it made sense to leave them to guard their rear and secure the prisoners as well.
Hammerhand moved to the front of their line and climbed the first few steps of the stairway slowly. A moment later, he was joined by the Prophet, who piloted his altered Argonaut.
"It would seem that your plan was the right one, my friend," the man stated. "I cannot say I am surprised, of course, as I expected that your acumen when it comes to battle strategies is not to be underestimated. I am glad to have been able to fight alongside you."
He didn't quite know how to respond to that. Of course, it had been a decent enough tactical call, but it hadn't only been made by him and it sure as hell would have been much better if his counterpart hadn't held his people back for as long as he had. It made no difference that those who had died weren’t Knights. They were allies and their losses couldn’t be easily replaced.
But the Prophet wasn't finished speaking and had merely paused as they began to scale the next step.
"Of course, I will note that your losses were harsher than expected. Indeed, they were tragic, and I would not wish a repeat of them. Your Knights and the townsfolk fought valiantly but were forced into a less than desirable position, I think, by the need to draw their numbers out fully."
"It would have been an improvement if your men had been able to move into position on time," Hammerhand replied. His mood was still a little foul over the result of the battle, despite the victory. "We were forced to engage them out in the open when outnumbered while we waited for your men to sweep in to deliver the final assault."
"Indeed, and I am aware of the delay. However, the necessity to cut them off completely from the mesa was paramount and I could not engage my forces until then. Of course, your men's bravery was something for mine to envy and we would prefer to be at the front lines and take the most dangerous positions like yours did when the time comes for us to engage our enemies again. I feel as though this will happen soon, so they will have a chance to prove themselves as your men did."
Once again, he was unsure how he should correctly reply to that. Bravery wasn't something he considered enviable. It was more of a requirement that came with being a member of the Knights Mechanica, but it was meant to be tempered with wisdom. From his perspective, it was wise to not force themselves into positions where their bravery would end with their unnecessary deaths.
But maybe the people from the desert didn't see things in quite the same way. Their culture was different and so were their ideals. Maybe sacrificing themselves for a good cause and being seen as brave when their sacrifice was witnessed was something that was considered desirable.
Before Hammerhand could speak, he saw Tinker push his mech a little faster to be able to catch up with the two leaders. If he knew the man at all, he knew he was all kinds of pissed and they would both hear an earful.
Hammerhand steeled himself for what he could only call an assault.
"Oy, the both of you—slow the fuck down, because I have something to say and by every single god out there, even those who aren't paying attention, you will hear my words."
Oh yes. Tinker was pissed and he wouldn’t be restrained from venting on the men he considered responsible for his ire.
"Tinker—"
"I'll fucking get to you in a minute, Hammerhand. You, Prophet. I don't know what your real name is, but the title has some connotations about seeing the goddamn future, so how the hell was it that your group ended up coming into the fight about ten minutes late? You're a clever bloke, so I suppose you would know how to fucking count?"
"I understand your anger, my friend, and I commiserate with it. Your losses will not be forgotten and neither will the bravery of the fallen."
"Bollocks to that. You were supposed to attack the moment their heavy mechs were out in the open. You held back on that and it cost way too many lives. Explain that."
“I regret your losses. Truly I do. Yet from my vantage point, had we joined battle sooner, we would not have been able to flank them and we would, even as I speak, still be fighting. And for a far higher price.”
Tinker looked like he had no clue what to say to that either. He was still angry, though, and mumbled something under his breath like it was building into a crescendo. Hammerhand knew he needed to intercede before the man blew a gasket.
"Tinker, take a deep breath."
He was grateful that the glare he knew was on the older man’s face wasn’t visible.
“Shit to that,” Tinker said finally.
The Prophet moved between the two men. "I would not wish to interrupt your conversation, but I have already assured Hammerhand that the next time there is a more dangerous position that cannot be avoided in the battle, my men would be more than happy to equal the valor and bravery of your Knights and allies. They would feel insulted and their courage diminished otherwise."
"Yeah, I'll take what you have to say with a large fucking pinch of salt there, mate."
"Pinch of…salt? I do not understand this."
"It means I'll believe it when I fucking see it!"
"Tinker! That's enough."
The Prophet was again quick to interrupt. "Please, he is right to raise his concerns, and it is a poor leader who does not listen to them."
Tinker seemed to feel it was enough as well, though. Either that or he'd said all he had to say on the matter. Whatever the mechanic’s feelings, Hammerhand didn't want to risk potentially alienating their ally due to his anger, even if it was well-placed and well-meaning. The man felt a great deal of responsibility toward the Knights and those who fought with them and would always react to their lives being lost with anger he directed toward an attempt to make sure something like that never happened again.
Still, the Knights’ leader couldn't help but feel that the Prophet had suggested he was somehow a lesser leader for wanting to have this kind of conversation in private. It was how he tended to accomplish things with Tinker anyway—away from outsiders like the Prophet.
Maybe he realized that or maybe he didn't. Either way, their new ally continued to move forward and guided the troop to the top of the mesa.
The structure of it was unlike anything Hammerhand had seen before, in person at least. He'd visited enough of the bunkers out there to know how they were generally built and set up, but this one appeared to be far more fortified. It went with the idea that they had constructed it to sustain anything up to and including an orbital bombardment, and this certain
ly didn't disappoint.
The entrance into the bunker was built into the structure of the mesa itself and thus managed to retain the defensive qualities of being underground while having the visual advantage over the terrain around it provided by an elevated structure. It was fairly ingenious, and Hammerhand had to wonder if they had set the groundwork up for those elements to be used or if the mesa had already been in place and they had merely taken advantage of it.
It was difficult to see into the minds of the people who had lived on their planet that long before. The culture was too different for him to be able to even try.
He did like the way it was built into the mesa, which enabled the earth to carry the first line of defense, but as they moved into the bunker building itself, it looked more like a hangar. A huge chamber greeted them, large enough for the Excalibur to stand in it with room to spare, which meant it could house the few medium-sized orbital defense ships he had seen the schematics to back in the day.
Although, he decided, it was unlikely that any production happened there. As large as it was, it was still too small to be a manufacturer of the ships it could house. It was more likely that the hangar bay had been designed for transportation purposes.
Again, he couldn’t possibly assume that he knew much about what they had thought back then.
The hangar was reinforced with steel plates, which were in turn held in place by steel-reinforced concrete. He could see the plates only because the concrete had begun to erode and reveal what was beneath. It didn't seem safe, especially as the floor they walked on was covered in a light coat of the concrete dust that had fallen. If he didn't know better, he would have said the place had been abandoned for years.
Of course, he did know better. More importantly, tracks in the dust revealed where the mechs they had recently fought had strolled through not long before. In addition, the massive steel door at the back of the bay—which appeared newer than the rest of the structure—still showed the gleam of clean steel.
A quick scan revealed that the metal was almost a full meter thick and the supports around it were even more secure. It wasn't only steel either, he noted, but the scanner couldn't detect what alloy had been used to forge it.
They would definitely not be able to cut through it, though, that much was clear. Even Windchime's swords would likely dull themselves and break if they tried.
"I suppose we should have anticipated something like this," Hammerhand said, moved closer, and placed his hand on the steel door. "I’m reasonably sure that the number of explosives needed to break through a door like this would turn this whole mesa into a fucking crater."
"We could speak to my men at the bottom," the Prophet suggested. "They would have a steel-cutting lance that would find a way through. It would take considerable time, but—"
He stopped talking when something moved suddenly behind the door—or perhaps it was the door itself. Low yet unmistakable clunking issued from inside the steel and something ground to indicate motion.
Seconds ticked past as it continued while they simply stood and stared.
"Do you suppose they're reinforcing their position in there?" Tinker asked finally when no one else seemed inclined to speak.
They didn't have to wonder long. After five full minutes had passed, a loud creaking filled the hangar bay and the door swung open.
It moved outward, which forced Hammerhand to take a couple of steps back to keep it from knocking the Excalibur over. Movement was slow and it inched wider until there was enough space for a small mech to pass through.
Instead of a mech, however, an unarmored woman stepped out in a white coat and with her brown hair secured in a braid.
"My name is Erica8," she said as loudly as she could. "Welcome to the Hall of the Ecologists."
Chapter Fifty-Four
Hammerhand reminded himself that he had seen his share of bunkers during his life. In fact, he had seen more than a few people's fair share of bunkers over his time traveling the Outside to help those who needed it so he could make a way for as many as possible to live in the peace he wanted for all.
It seemed necessary to remind himself of what was necessary and familiar—what he considered normal—because he had never seen anything quite like this.
Of course, it wasn't exactly a bunker, at least not in the traditional sense. Erica8 invited him and the Prophet down the hallway that led to a staircase and guided them past row after row of what looked like giant freezers. Within, men and women worked wrapped in thermal suits.
Eventually, they reached what looked like a mess hall but once again, it was unlike any he had ever seen. The walls were decorated with dozens of paintings of nature scenes from before the Invasion. These included waterfalls and forests, for the most part, as well as depictions of great scientists of times past, complete with small plaques with their names and contributions.
The food was similar to that of the other bunkers, although the thick green stew was a little more fragrant and the protein patties were spicier than he was used to.
"I have to admit, Erica8," the Prophet stated and examined the food closely before he took a mouthful, “of all the receptions we expected from people inside, a warm one with food and a show of fantastic artwork was not highly anticipated. Although it is, of course, appreciated."
"We're ecologists here, for the most part," she explained, brushed the hair from her face, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "There are biologists and an assortment of other specialists, but there is one thing we share within these walls. We're all pacifists and believe that war and fighting should be a thing of the past if humanity is to reach the elevated position it once held. You know, of course, that our view is not shared by the residents of FEMA City, who would rather enforce their own ambitions on all they meet, by force if necessary. When they asked us to use our terraforming processes—including the weather blimps—for combat purposes, we refused.”
"I will assume that answer was not acceptable," Hammerhand interjected.
"Indeed, and they took it all by force despite our protests and placed us under what can only be described as a military occupation. We didn't have the weapons to resist and seeing them turn the efforts of decades of work over to barbarians like that Lady Hoot character… Well, it was sickening. Therefore, to see people from the neighboring towns fight back with the help of the famed Knights Mechanica was gratifying, even if we did see you destroy one of the blimps."
Hammerhand nodded. "I'm sorry, but it was necessary. The lightning—"
"Is why they wanted to use it as a weapon in the first place. Believe me, I understand. All we want to do is return to the work of rebuilding this world without pointless dick-measuring by means of mechs and guns."
The Prophet leaned forward. "I'm sorry, but how would one measure genitals while wearing a mech?"
She stared at him for a few seconds as if to decide whether he was joking or not. "Metaphorical dick-measuring."
"Ah."
Hammerhand stepped in to keep the conversation from deviating from the point. "We have every intention to allow your people to continue your work unimpeded, but we also aim to make sure that FEMA City will not be allowed to take control of this area again, so we must ask for your help."
Erica8 pursed her lips pensively. "Our stance on non-violence does remain, you understand?"
"Of course, and we would not ask you to step into combat at all. We merely need your help to contact the people in the gene bank west from here. Since attacking the city itself would be impossible, we wish to force them into a position where they have to negotiate for peace instead."
The woman once again flicked her short brown hair from where it had begun to creep over her eyes and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her freckled nose almost by reflex.
"We've had some contact with the Gene Bankers prior to the coup. From what we were able to understand, they held themselves as neutral while FEMA consolidated their power in the region. A few militants were granted
asylum by them against the orders of the junta, though. Like us, they are their own society and would much rather be allowed to work in peace than have political ambitions get in the way of rebuilding this world. I guess you could say they are their own mandate, in a way, and they will follow it regardless of who might be in charge at one moment or another."
Hammerhand took a moment to enjoy the food again. It wasn't odd that it tasted different—most bunkers used different ingredients for their food, after all—but it wasn't common to find any that were more palatable than the others. "So, do you think they would help us to convince the city to sue for peace?"
"I doubt they would help anyone at this point, but that doesn't mean they would try to impede you. They had fewer technologies that could be weaponized, which would explain why there was no military occupation of their area, but they would want independence from the city as much as we do."
The Prophet grunted. "And here we always assumed you were all connected to the city. Satellite bunkers, as it were."
"I'm sure that is what those in charge at FEMA would want people to think. Regardless, you might want to discuss negotiating passage with them. That, at least, would be a place to start in the negotiations. Now, if you will excuse me, I have issues to tend to and scientists to calm. The show must go on, as they say."
Hammerhand wasn't sure who said that but could only nod as she stood from the table and made her way to where a small group in white coats waited for her.
"Do you trust these people?" the Prophet asked once she was out of earshot.
"Do you?"
The man paused to think for a moment. "I do not. How could I? Their pacifism will be applied equally to us, of course."
Hammerhand could only shrug in response. "In the same way that we needed to trust you, I feel you and I must trust them. There is no way the world will heal if we're not willing to put faith in those around us."
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