"On the other side, my friend."
He pulled away from the fork without wasting another moment and his link with the Prophet soon garbled into static. The interference meant he wouldn't be able to stay in contact with the man who would coordinate the second prong of their assault, as Hammerhand would lead his Knights and the Auburnite rebels from the Gene Bank. The Prophet and his desert warriors would advance from the tunnels that started at the Hall of Ecologists.
Hopefully, he reminded himself but without anxiety. As anyone involved in any kind of combat could express, all plans went through the shitter when the battle started.
All he could hope for was that they could get out into the open where the Knights and the Desert Warriors would be able to fight in a position that was most beneficial to them.
Once again, the adrenaline pumped through his veins as he marched through the passages to where the rest of the Knights awaited him. It wasn't only his group, however.
"We were naive to think that peace could be sued for." Gustav15 connected through a private comm line.
"I never really believed they would go for something like that, but it was the hope that they would understand that their time of controlling this area is finished. This way, we can drive the point home and keep the bloodshed to a minimum."
"The fact that your aim is to keep the fighting to a minimum is the only reason that Nina2 is willing to work with you."
Hammerhand couldn't help a smile as the man in a blue, silver, and yellow-painted mech fell into step beside him. The other Gene Guards were waiting, already in formation and ready to march, and the Knights greeted them courteously.
His people weren't waiting for a speech. They had been in the fight with him for long enough to know what the stakes were and reminding them of it would only seem like him lording something over them. There was no point in it anymore.
He rested his weapon against his shoulder and motioned for them to move. They complied with no cheers, no excited shouts, and no war chants. They were already on the battlefield.
As they began the march, a familiar pit formed in his stomach like his body was preparing to be in combat once more. He steadied himself and made sure there were no jitters in his fingers or muscles, nothing twitching, and nothing unsettled.
He was ready for the fight.
They continued to move through the labyrinth and the temperature dropped steadily with every step. His flight suit would protect him from the cold that seeped in through the mech, and it meant that there would be no need to vent the coolant systems until they arrived somewhere warmer.
"I guess this is where they keep everything cold?" Hammerhand asked aloud and not to anyone in particular.
"The Gene Bank extends for kilometers beyond the bunker itself," Gustav15 explained. He was a little surprised that the commlink had been kept open but chose not to question the lord captain. "The amount of energy needed to keep it all cool was impossible based on the tech of the time, and we couldn't have put it all through once the battles in the skies were finished. But they found a way to pull power in from the hot water lakes hundreds of kilometers deep and generated enough energy to keep the City and the bunkers powered without needing to use nuclear reactors, although they used those too. It was considered folly back in the day, but in the end, they had found an untapped energy source that would last them until the literal end of the world. I wonder whose idea it was, in the end."
Hammerhand couldn't fathom the sheer amount of time and energy that would have gone into building something as massive as this, and especially during a time of war. Most people would have pushed for all resources to go into readiness for the war against the Invaders, with only a few having the presence of mind to start preparing for what would come after.
He grasped his weapon a little tighter as they left the cooler sections and entered a larger tunnel. Rail lines ran to massive steel doors that were so cold the fog drifted away from it in small rivulets. It was all well-lit and gave them far more room to move through.
Pillars were carved out of the rock to support the roof of the cavernous tunnels, struts designed to look like statues, although the original designs were impossible to make out. A hand and a foot could be seen here or there but aside from that, most of the pre-war architecture had turned into a vague and distant memory.
Hammerhand couldn't help but feel a little sad to see what had once been a display of the ingenuity of the great minds of the world slowly began to disappear. They were now little more than the last remnants of what had been.
"This tunnel leads directly into FEMA City," Gustav15 explained and gestured ahead with his rifle. "I doubt they'd even guard it. It hasn’t been used in decades."
"We should remain on our guard anyway," Hammerhand muttered. "There’s no need to make things too easy for them, after all."
He cut the comm line and motioned for the group—who had taken a moment to appreciate the architecture of the subterranean corridor—to keep moving. They couldn't lag too far behind lest the Prophet's troops be forced to take the brunt of the defenses.
Hammerhand moved toward the front of the lines but held himself in check and tried not to act on the violent impulses that rose from the pit of his stomach. They told him to rush them forward into battle, but he knew this wasn’t the time for that kind of tactic.
Windchime organized the troops into squads and made sure that at least one of the Knights was in every troop of the Auburn rebels, hopefully to keep them organized and in control. It was important to prevent them from being too exposed.
Tinker, finished with his part of the planning, jogged his lighter mech to where Hammerhand led the advance through the tunnels.
"How do you plan to swing that big fucking hammer of yours in these tunnels, laddie?"
He could only shake his head. "There’s not much room to do that with any effectiveness. No, I'll use the shield to push the rest of the line forward and let you dumbasses time your shooting for when I have to drop it. Until we get our asses out to somewhere a little more open, anyway."
"Do you think you want me to fit you with something that can shoot in these tighter corridors?"
"If we had time, I would ask. But as of right now, we need to strike fast and hard. With that in mind, the shield will have to do and you assholes will have to watch my back."
"I've always got your back, laddie. You've always earned it."
"I hope that doesn't change now."
"Don't be like that. We have something going here. We can all feel it. There's victory in the air, and we'll taste it. All the lads can feel it. Well, except those Gene Guard fuckers. You can't tell a damn thing about them."
"Never mind them. Keep moving the teams forward and we'll get it done. Nothing's won yet."
"That's the fucking spirit."
Chapter Sixty-One
He had learned many things since he had arrived in this place. The desert was a brutal environment, the kind that didn't forgive or forget.
People in the grasslands were less harsh, which was reflected in their environment. The land always made the culture. That was what he had been taught back in the day.
They called him the Prophet because they believed he saw into the truth of things more than others did. And maybe he did, but in the end, they followed him because they thought he had answers.
And while he did have some, they were for the desert. Maybe not for these grasslands, though. Hammerhand had been cut from an altogether different cloth, of course, and so had most of his Knights. They were all fighters to the core, but a different kind than those who followed him into battle. For one thing, they were more forgiving and more helpful instead of feeling that their actions were ordained.
It wasn't that he envied the Knights’ leader’s position, of course, and the man's morals made it difficult to live in a harsh world. But there were some who were able to come to terms with morals like his and stand by them.
And having an Excalibur mech didn't hurt matters eit
her.
His teams advanced through the tunnels at a decent enough pace, and the Prophet steadied his nerves as the darkness began to close in around them. Spending most of his time out in the desert meant his days were lived in the open with the sun shining on his face and a breeze touching his skin.
Being confined in tunnels like this had to be one of his least favorite feelings, especially as it felt like they grew darker with every passing step. He didn't like it but damned if he would let any of his men see his hesitation. They believed in him and his ability to lead them through anything, which included a long dark tunnel. It wouldn't do to have that confidence shaken in any way.
If he wanted to lead them forward, he would need to be the first one to step into the darkness.
As they continued to move, the lights they carried—helpfully provided by the ecologists they had been in contact with—revealed that the chambers they walked through were a great deal less tight and confined than his imagination had painted them. He had no idea who had put this much work into building them, but he had to admire their determination and their skill. There wasn't much opportunity to create something out in the Sands, and all that could be created was carried on their mechs.
Out here, where there was stone to work with, they could create.
And the evidence confirmed that they did, even though these creations were old, derelict, and falling to pieces. It was still their creation and still beautiful.
"What the…fuck!" He snarled when red alarms flashed across his HUD to tell him there were a few crossed wires in his hydraulics systems. They were being isolated from the rest of the system, which made sure there was still pressure in them to prevent the whole Argonaut from crumpling.
But there were still problems. They were closed off and situated in his right thigh, but issues of this kind tended to cascade when more pressure was put on the rest of the system. The Prophet couldn't afford to have his mech come apart at the seams in the middle of the battle. But he also couldn't afford to be the last man into the fray, if only because the Argonaut, a heavy mech, would always be an advantage in a battle. This was especially the case in the closer ranges he would commit to in these tunnels.
He had always advocated for speed over heavy armor, but there wouldn't be room for any speed and maneuvering, no matter how wide the passages were around them. They would need to keep moving, of course, with the lighter mechs able to hit and pull back before engaging too tightly.
But only if Hammerhand's mechs were in there to draw most of the fire and attention.
He could see another Argonaut approach him. Calina, his second-in-command and one of his standard-bearers, had noticed him fall back and came back to check on him. She contacted one of the support mechs to help with the repairs.
"Keep them moving," the Prophet ordered. "We can't leave Hammerhand and his Knights to take all the glory in this fight. I only need to put in some repairs and I'll join you presently."
"As you wish, my Prophet."
Her response was curt and to the point, not that he expected anything warmer from her. He trusted Calina above almost any other member of his army, and that included with his life.
Not that he didn't trust any of the others. It was her judgment he valued the most.
The Prophet left the support mech to conduct the repairs, climbed out, and helped to perform them himself when he felt the man wasn't moving quickly enough.
Finally, the red lights stopped flashing in his HUD and he entered the cockpit again and sent the support mech to continue the march with the others. They were almost all past him and only a few stragglers brought up the rear behind him.
He grasped the controls and began to move the mech forward once everything was certified as working. Satisfied, he drove the mech forward at a steady march and much faster than he had before. He wanted to catch up with the front of the line and to be involved in the fighting himself.
Another red light flashed across his HUD and the Prophet growled.
"Fucking… Not again…"
He stopped immediately. There was no sign of anything wrong with the mech itself. It was the sensors that had gone crazy as he continued to move forward. The seismic sensors told him that something was wrong but not with the mech. The problem lay with the ground below him.
Or rather, he realized—although he was still bewildered—the ground above him. He couldn't feel anything at first, but he could see that the others had the same readings and they had begun to get anxious with every step down the tunnel.
It was only when a low rumble in the earth around them added an edge of tangible danger that the Prophet called the troop to a halt.
"Get back!" he shouted and put his voice into all the commlinks he could access as well as the external speakers of the mech. "Get back! All of you pull back. Right fucking now!"
They didn't question his orders and in a few seconds, they had no reason to. The rumble happened again. By the third time, there was no break between the waves, only more and more noise as rocks and dust plunged from the tunnel roof.
"Back! All of you get the fuck bac—"
He was cut off. Something struck him hard in the back, the force sufficient to knock him off his feet. He actually felt it through the mech's heavy armor.
The pressure on his chest grew with every passing second and all he could hear was the rumbling that had become loud enough to make his ears hurt. It was broken only by blaring alarms in the mech before everything suddenly stopped. The lights no longer blinked red and everything turned black instead.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The Knights made good progress down the tunnels. If the maps Nina2 had provided them with were accurate, they needed to proceed for another kilometer and a half to reach the areas that were still patrolled by the city.
From that point on, it would be tough going, which was exactly what they needed it to be. Otherwise, they wouldn’t achieve their purpose to draw attention away from the secondary entrance. Unless they managed that, the Prophet would be embroiled in heavy fighting for which his light desert mechs were ill-equipped.
Hammerhand steeled himself while the adrenaline fought to assume control within.
"Heads up, laddie," Tinker called over the commlink. "The sensors pick movement up down the corridor. That’s some five hundred meters closer than they should be."
"Do you think they could be non-military?"
"I very much doubt it unless non-military folks are allowed to run around these tunnels in mechs."
It was possible, he reminded himself, although highly improbable. These tunnels would most certainly be dangerous for non-military personnel and there was no logical reason for civilians to be there. That aside, he wouldn’t simply assume that anyone they might encounter were combatants, exactly like he wouldn’t assume that everyone in the City was guilty of the same crimes their soldiers had committed.
The tunnel plunged into darkness when the bulbs shorted out for no apparent reason. Even before the first reactionary curses were heard, the area suddenly illuminated. Flares were fired on the other side of the tunnel, where he could see a series of shadows move toward him.
Their appearance and the circumstances ended any debate over their identity. These were definitely not civilians.
"Weapons ready!" Hammerhand announced, strode five steps ahead of his group, and focused on the mechs that moved forward to meet them. Even from five hundred meters away, it was obvious that they were preparing weapons. They marched in formation with the kind of precision and steady rhythm that made it clear they were ready for a fight.
It seemed they had advance knowledge that the Knights had initiated an attack. Whether they had tripped a sensor or someone had informed FEMA City about their plans didn't matter. At this point, they were committed.
The tunnels blazed brightly when massive rifles began to fire. A couple of the enemy Cinders tried to secure cover for themselves and clearly wanted to push in where their close-range weapons would be able to do
the most damage.
That was a real concern. Hammerhand highlighted their presence on his HUD for the team to see.
"Form up behind me!"
The opposition was still too far away for their volleys to be accurate, but a few rounds struck closer to home than others, and he turned his shield on. The reduced setting would mean it would take longer to heat up. The additional time would be needed given the sheer amount of firepower he hoped it would absorb.
He steadied himself and increased the pace of his march. The heat began to rise with every round that impacted with the shield. He would keep it up as long as possible but could not risk having it overheat, which would inevitably exclude him from the fight entirely.
Unfortunately, they wouldn’t survive an all-out assault without the shield, which left them in a precarious position either way.
The heat began to redline and the focused fire of the mechs ranged against them revealed the numbers the Knights faced, which also increased steadily.
This was unsurprising, of course. FEMA City had taken losses but they still greatly outnumbered any other group in the area. It was how they had managed to hold control for so long.
An alarm blinked in his HUD and displayed how long it would be until his shield overheated, and Hammerhand alerted the Knights behind him. They had kept their distance and waited for the order he issued in the same moment that the blue film dropped out of sight. Even without its light, he could still see a fair amount from the muzzle flashes of the barrage around him.
Fifteen alerts showed where his mech's armor had been hit, and he settled in place, steeled himself, and moved forward. A couple of Cinders rushed toward him, hoping to catch his team off-guard and knock the Excalibur out of the fight. All Hammerhand could do was push the hammer forward.
There was no room for him to swing it, although activating the rocket on the end might do some damage.
The closest Cinder was caught in the chest by the top of the hammer—which was almost twice the size of its cockpit—and it was driven back with enough force to make it stumble and topple heavily. He activated the rocket as the other two tried to advance and the kick of it twisted his mech uncomfortably but it did the job. One of the attackers was caught and hurled against the wall with enough power to leave it crushed into the stonework, and another was struck by the rocket blast. After a few seconds of flailing, the fuel in its tanks ignited and exploded in a powerful and brilliant blast.
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