The other Cinders were caught out in the open and the Knights leveled a second salvo into them. More fire resulted as they stumbled into their own lines.
The FEMA mechs had no mercy and no intention to let even their own pose a threat and simply annihilated them.
It was something to keep in mind. They hadn't shown that kind of cold-bloodedness during the battle for Auburn. Maybe they had to be less merciful, even to their own people, when they defended their city.
Hammerhand raised the shield again and made a note of the damage that had been done to his mech before he continued the advance. Pushing forward would give them room to fight back, and in the tighter area of the tunnels, the Knights would hold the advantage. Windchime's swords whined, ready to slice into anything that stood in his way.
A smile touched the Knights’ leader’s face as they pushed closer. He kept his shield up and once again, gave the men behind him the alert to fire the moment it dropped.
The FEMA mechs began to fall back when they realized they were suddenly at a disadvantage. Orders were issued as the shield came down and a fusillade immediately erupted from the Knights.
More alarms blared and Hammerhand almost ignored them until they revealed damage to the back of his mech. Something had attacked him from behind, although he couldn’t see how that was possible.
"Tinker, what the fuck is going on back there?"
"Hold on, just—hold the fuck on!"
There was no further explanation for a second and Hammerhand tried not to turn around to see what was happening. The hammer pushed forward again and drove the front line of enemy mechs back. He activated the rocket and scorched a Lancer into falling back, which opened enough room for Windchime to charge into the fray. His enhanced mech moved at a speed that made it almost impossible to track if not for the muzzle flashes from his assault rifle and the sprays of sparks from his blades cutting into the enemy. A couple of others who piloted Lancers and Predator mechs rushed into the fight to support him.
"Tinker! Report."
"We're under fire from behind!"
Hammerhand startled and pulled back but the reaction was cautious as he didn’t want to accidentally crush one of his own mechs. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Tinker didn't reply for a second and focused his energy on lobbing smoke grenades into the area behind them. There was no shield back there and it was enormously frustrating that he couldn't see who was shooting at them from the rear. He had sustained damage from behind, and it wouldn’t be long before something vital was struck.
"Who the hell is shooting at us? Did they set something up in the Gene Bank or something?"
"Fuck! No! The Gene Guard are the ones shooting at us."
Hammerhand could think of nothing to say in response to that. He knew better than to question it since the man wouldn't shout it like that if he wasn't absolutely sure of the facts.
The next question, obviously enough, was why they were shooting. The Gene Bank were soldiers and would not fire accidentally into their own allies. Even a first-year pilot would know to keep their lines of sight clear.
Which left only one alternative. The Gene Guard attack was deliberate.
"Son of a whore." Hammerhand growled with anger-tinged frustration and raised his shield once more. "Tinker! Casualties?"
"We have a large number of disabled mechs. I have light mechs getting the survivors out and into cover and others creating smoke screens."
It seemed like the man was in his element and if anyone could effectively manage that kind of calamity, he could. The Knights’ leader hefted his hammer and drove it into the line of mechs that now tried to circle Windchime and his team. The man still moved like a whirlwind to slice and hack into anything his weapons could connect with. Along with the work of his assault rifles and the others in his team, he inflicted an impressive dent in the City's pilot numbers.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t last. Any losses the City took at this point would have almost no meaning compared to the damage the Knights had suffered until this point.
Hammerhand brought his shield up and shoved forward. "Windchime, pull the fuck back and bring your team with you. Now, damn it—now!"
The Knight didn't question his orders and the rest of his people withdrew as well. Before they could rejoin the ranks, two Cinders moved out from behind pillars where they had been effectively hidden. Their shotguns flashed and one of the Lancers lost its leg and pitched over. The second took a round through the cockpit with enough force to knock the entire mech forward before it simply fell with the Auburn pilot already dead.
"Shit!" Windchime shouted as Hammerhand lowered the shield to let him and his two remaining men through. The smoke had begun to fill the tunnels, which made any kind of real visibility all but impossible. Despite the visual challenges, a concerted barrage cut through the tunnel to damage his mech and those around him. Of course, the Knights were confined in a limited area so it didn’t require much to deliver an effective assault.
He squinted to focus on Tinker, who stood at the center of the subterranean passage with an assault rifle in an improvised strap on his arm. The man returned fire at the Guard and attempted to hold their ground while the other support mechs drew their comrades away from the fight and into cover behind the pillars.
With his attention on the condition of his troops in the rear, it took a while for him to realize that the air had begun to fill with more than only the smoke from Tinker's canisters. From what he could tell, the ongoing and concentrated exchange of gunfire chipped away at the pillars that supported the tunnel. Before long, they would all be buried inside.
Assuming, of course, that they survived that long.
There was only one way that any of them would get out of this alive. The chances were, if the Guard had betrayed them, the desert warriors would face similar difficulties. Perhaps his decision would help them as well, although he didn't know what they intended to do.
"Hold your fire!" Hammerhand ordered over the comms and made sure his voice carried through the speakers on his mech. In case it was unclear as to who he had addressed, he dropped his shield, let the hammer fall from his hand, and raised a white flag from the mech.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Tinker snapped and spun to face him.
"Hold your fire and drop your weapons. That's a fucking order!" he commanded the man with as much authority as he could muster.
"I won’t give up, laddie, so you'd better pick that fucking hammer up again."
"I'm not telling you again—"
"Good, so I won't have to smack some sense into your brains again."
"Tinker, I won't let any more die on this hill of mine. Understood?"
It had been difficult to make the decision and Hammerhand couldn't ignore the irony. He now commanded that they stop fighting, and Tinker insisted that they continue.
The other Knights and rebels had already ceased their efforts and put their weapons down.
Their enemies, thankfully, had chosen to hold their fire and appeared to be willing to accept their surrender.
"Fucking…hell." Tinker hissed in disgust, yanked the strap off the assault rifle on his arm, and let it clatter on the stone floor.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Surrender was a bitter pill to swallow. It was also one that Hammerhand had once sworn he would never take because he preferred death over kneeling before an enemy.
There had been a mention of an old poem at the time. He couldn't remember the exact line or the name of the poet in question, but the words, “Bloodied but Unbowed,” had stuck in his head.
He remembered it mostly because Athena had told him about it. She’d shared it over a campfire after they'd both gone through about three bottles of something alcoholic that had been brewed in his old mech. Once she had recited the whole poem to him, they'd vowed that they would never surrender and would die first.
In this case, he knew they didn't have a choice. They had been tricked, trapped, and drawn
into the tunnels where they had no way to escape or fight back. Every inch of him wanted to make sure they would all pay for the lives that had been taken, but he pushed the instinct aside and focused on what he had to do.
Hammerhand climbed willingly out of his mech, and the Knights followed. The rebels needed a little more convincing, but they wouldn’t be able to continue the fight on their own, especially with many of their mechs already too damaged to ignore.
The FEMA City pilots and a few of the Gene Guard exited their mechs. They worked together to surround the survivors, push them to their knees, and tie their hands behind their backs.
The wounded received no treatment and were merely secured and bound like the others.
"They need medical attention," Hammerhand stated and fought to hide the anger that bubbled under the surface. "We surrendered to you and by the rules of war, you need to tend to the wounded."
"And do you think we give a shit about what you people need?" one of the FEMA City pilots shouted. He swaggered to where the Knights’ leader knelt and regarded him with a sneer. "If you wanted medical attention, you should have thought twice about attacking the great FEMA City."
He returned his captor’s stare and once again, struggled to keep his anger at bay. "They need help. Do you intend to simply let them die?"
"I might do. Or I might not. Ask me again when I feel like being talked to by some shit raider."
Hammerhand had no response to that and the pilot clearly didn’t expect one. He laughed as he turned and strolled down the line of prisoners.
"Oy! Laddie! I think you didn't hear what the man said about those in need of medical attention."
There was no mistaking Tinker's voice and there was no telling what purpose he had in mind that involved shouting like that. The FEMA pilot walked to where the old man was on his knees.
"Maybe I heard him, old fuck, and simply don't care what he had to say about our enemies dying a little quicker."
"Well, I think you should listen to him anyway."
"And why the fuck is that?" The man loomed over the mechanic, who returned his stare as if entirely unfazed that he was on his knees and didn’t stand eye to eye with his enemy. "I think you need to shut the fuck up, or you'll find yourself—"
He didn’t manage to finish whatever he intended to threaten Tinker with. There wasn't much in the world that could put the old man down when he was sufficiently riled, but even Hammerhand was surprised when he drove up from his knees and his head pounded into the man's gut to cut him off in mid-sentence. The air rushed from the FEMA city pilot's lungs in a whoosh and the prisoner found his feet.
The mechanic leaned back a few centimeters before he jerked his head forward. A few people winced when the other man’s nose broke with a distinctive crunch. The young pilot fell, clutched his face, and groaned in pain.
Tinker, apparently, hadn’t finished his lesson in manners and the rules of war.
"Fucking prick!" he shouted and kicked the moaning pilot in the gut and the ribs. "Learn some fucking respect, or you'll—"
The tunnels echoed with the sound of a single gunshot that left ears ringing. Tinker stiffened, a look of shock on his face as he fell forward to his hands and knees.
A man wearing a pilot suit walked from the shadows and into clear light. Gustav15 stood over the mechanic with a small sidearm in his hand.
He stared at him for a moment, raised the weapon again, and pulled the trigger. All life vanished from the old man's body and he sagged on the tunnel floor while blood, bone, and other viscera sprayed over the stone.
"No!" Hammerhand roared. He couldn't believe the indisputable evidence of his own eyes. This couldn't be the truth. It simply couldn't be. He surged to his feet and expected the killer to turn his weapon on him but honestly didn't care. The lord captain would manage perhaps two shots before he closed the distance between them, and there was no way those would be enough to stop him from killing the fucker.
When Gustav15 saw the Knights’ leader on his feet, he aimed his weapon at the prisoner who knelt closest to him and stared at Hammerhand with cold disdain.
"He'll die next. Then her. Then him. I have fifteen rounds in here and I'll use them all on someone who isn’t you, Hammerhand."
The brutal assurance in the man’s tone was sufficient to ensure that he didn't take another step. The weight of the threat hung heavily, and he chafed beneath it. Slowly, he sank to his knees again and tried to ignore Gustav15’s smirk.
There was nothing else he could do. His adversary had his measure perfectly. While he didn't much care if he lived or died, the people who were under his command were a different story. He would die for them but never let them die if he could help it.
But despite that, Tinker lay still a few yards away from him. The bleeding from his head had slowed to a trickle and most had soaked into the dust on which he was sprawled.
Hammerhand had expected the old man to outlive every one of the Knights. When they were all dead and gone, the immortal Tinker would have merely started over again somehow.
It seemed as hard to accept the loss of the idea as it was to comprehend the death of the man. He stared at the motionless figure of his friend and hoped and prayed that something would change. His rage buried itself beneath a cold numbness that half-convinced him that his mind was playing tricks on him. At any moment, Tinker would scramble to his feet and laugh at the tears that trickled down his cheeks.
Gustav15 turned to the other pilots. "Get the rest of them up. We'll head to FEMA City."
Hands grasped Hammerhand’s shoulders and forced him to his feet. They shouted at him but he barely heard them and twisted for one last over-the-shoulder glimpse of Tinker. One last hope flickered.
It was impossible. Tinker couldn’t be dead. He didn’t notice that they shouted at him to move faster or that they shoved the butts of their rifles harshly into his ribs to force him forward as the light slowly flickered out behind them.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Dozens of people were called to the scaffold and every one of them was jeered and yelled at by the crowd who were kept barely under control.
Jessica13 wondered if the only thing keeping them subdued was the fact that every single sentence was the same.
Death by hanging. Death by hanging. Death by hanging.
They were all marched off the scaffold once their fate was announced. Mayor Jones possibly wanted to make it something of a display for them and so would kill everyone in quick succession once all the sentences were handed out. There would be no surprises, no mercy, and no possibility that any of them would come away with their lives.
The crowd seemed all too happy to watch dozens being led to the gallows and hung, but Jones had a flair for the dramatic and deliberately delayed the tableau he had planned. The last of the sentences was pronounced when the sun came out directly above them, the heat now almost unbearable.
"We'll take a recess," the mayor announced once he’d ensured that he had the attention of all present by thumping the table with the cup in his hand. "During that time, we will determine when to begin the hangings."
The crowd cheered as the tribunal stood and moved into one of the nearby tents, likely to escape the heat.
She paid little attention to the weather and had already sweated and trembled with every second that ticked by and every sentence announced. Watching the whole display presented by Mayor Jones told her there was little interest in his mind for justice. He, like the other people of Auburn and the woman in the tribunal, wanted revenge.
Wilbur seemed different, however, and he appeared to enjoy seeing the suffering in the eyes of the condemned more than any desire for vengeance. She noted each sadistic smile and every time he seemed willing to make the prisoner in front of him wait a little longer to extend their suffering as much as he could. Some inner instinct told her that he would want to put them through more punishment than merely a hanging.
"What are you thinking, Jessica13?"
M
ini's ability to read her intentions could become problematic eventually but in this case, she was glad to have someone she could express her frustrations to.
"This isn't justice. I can't stand for this, right? How can I stand by and let them kill these people without any reason?"
"You mean aside from the fact that they attacked the town?"
"They followed orders under threat of their own death. At least, that's what Robert7 said."
"And you believe him? Trust him over Mayor Jones' judgment?"
"I think we should at least give them the chance to defend themselves properly instead of having everyone killed because of someone's lust for blood. And why are you trying to defend them? You said that whatever they did today was nothing like the justice Jones promised."
Mini stopped talking for a few seconds to give his processors enough time to engage with his core. "I know that, but I wanted to make sure you felt that way as well. It is interesting to see that you support your emotional response with at least a passably logical foundation. As I’ve said before, I do need significant upgrades to many things pertaining to detailed information. But if history is any indicator based on the data I do have available, your response is not as common in humans as one might think.”
Jessica13 settled into her controls while she considered what he meant by that. It was probably something valuable—an insight she could glean and learn from—but she wasn't in the mood to be taught any lessons at the moment. All she had time for was to wrack her brain for how she could help.
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