The scorched badlands air of Rychter had never tasted so sweet.

Ryke slithered out of his Hunter-Killer, raking a hand through sweat-slicked hair and closing his eyes, letting the ache in his limbs unwind. Being inside the war machine for so long was beginning to take its toll on his body, the physical feedback putting a huge strain on his nervous system.

Around him the other pilots did the same under his orders. Ten minutes to get out of the machines, crack a hydo-cube and stretch their legs – it wasn't much, but it would have to be enough. He knew they were still on hostile ground. All of them.

Grunn Rut Rut lumbered between his warriors, grunting and growling as he went, uncaring of the thick dark blood that now caked his heavy warhammer. Some of his pack had died in the bloody clash; many more sported burns, cuts, claw marks and even bite marks from the encounter. The survivors didn't seem overly concerned though, and Ryke found himself wondering if the Scraegans viewed death in even remotely the same way as his own people.

He'd never seen them mourn. But he had seen them drag their dead away from battlefields, so there had to be some sense of reverence, some kind of acknowledgement there. Maybe they just processed the whole experience of war and death differently to humans.

"Sergeant Ryke Vannigan!"

Ivy's voice tore him away from those musings. He spun around, just in time for her to hit him with a fierce hug. She almost knocked him over, her arms clamping tight around him as they slammed together.

Ryke steadied himself, and hugged her back, gripping her with all his might, as thought she might disappear into a puff of smoke if he didn't hold on. She pressed her cheek against the side of his neck, and he buried his face in her hair, relief making his whole body shudder.

"Way to be alive, Corporal," he whispered. "Way to be alive."

"Thank you, sir," she laughed, pulling back and raking her hair back out of her eyes. "Everflowing, it's good to see you." Cupping his face in her hands, she pushed up onto her tiptoes to plant a long and lingering kiss on his lips, uncaring of the eyes that flashed their way.

When she drew away again she looked just a little more at peace than when they'd emerged from the labyrinth.

"You cut it pretty close, little brother," Kelso laughed, limping over to join them. "Needed a dramatic entrance, eh?"

"Always." Releasing his hold on Ivy, Ryke stepped over and embraced his older brother, nodding to himself. He knew full well that plenty of good people had died in the dig site, but there was only so much one soldier could control.

He'd gotten here in time to save them. That would have to be enough for now.

Once they parted, Kelso inclined his head to the Scraegans currently milling around and growling and snuffling at each other.

"I see you've got some new friends."

"Bloody Riverlords," Ivy murmured, her eyes fixing on Grunn's horned helmet. "I remember that one. That's the beta – the one that helped you kill the first Crawler, isn't it?"

Clearing his throat, Ryke turned from them briefly and shouted, "Grunn!"

It didn't sound very Scraegan, but the two had been around each other long enough now for the Scraegan warrior to recognise his butchered accent. He swivelled around at Ryke's call, and Ryke beckoned. The beta's nostrils flared and he trudged over to them, his heavy footfalls trembling the ground.

"So..." Ryke smiled nervously as Grunn reached them. "Ivy, this is Grunn Rut Rut." He gestured back to the towering alien. Grunn, nodded slowly, resting the head of his warhammer against the dirt as he turned his gaze on the survivors.

"Grunn Rut Rut," she repeatedly, staring at the Scraegan warrior. "And he's... he's your friend?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far. But he's helped us. He's the only reason we got here in time."

"Oh."

She didn't look terribly thrilled about working alongside more Scraegans. After what had happened at the dig site he could hardly blame her.

"It took a bit of getting used to for me as well," he said, looking from her to Kelso. "Those other Scraegans, the ones that are all red fur? We ran into some on the way here. It looks like they've got their own traitors in the ranks."

"Scraegan traitors?" Kelso nodded slowly, keeping one eye on Grunn. "I've never seen any packs with that colouring before, but I guess it makes sense. They killed the other Scraegans at the dig site first, then they came after us."

"Their very own crazies." Ivy shook her head grimly, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "That's just what we need."

"Between them and the people that blew up the Liaison Post, we've got a whole lot of rapids coming our way right now."

Ryke motioned to Grunn with a jerk of his thumb. "Well, if it makes you feel better, it looks like Grunn's people don't think much of them. They didn't even hesitate before they started killing each other."

Ivy gave him a weak smile. "I feel better already."

At that moment Preese approached with the rest of HK-Rupture in tow. He looked tired – they all did – but he saluted nonetheless and even managed a tight smile. They'd all been in their Hunter-Killers for too long. He knew it; they knew it.

"Boss," Preese said.

"Report?"

"We've shaken off all the cobwebs. I think we're as ready as we're going to be to move out. I think we're all looking forward to going home."

"Me too, Preese," he agreed. "Munitions check?"

"Goliaths are down to a few dozen heavy rounds a piece," Erin grunted, speaking around the dark leafwrap smouldering between her teeth. Scissoring it between two fingers, she removed it long enough to puff out a column of smoke. "We get into another scrap between here and home, we're going to be down to close quarters pretty fast."

"My cannon loader's all screwed up," Fenix put in, a sour expression on her face. "We spread the shells around the other mechs."

"We've got at least a half-combat load of armour piercing for the Riot mechs each," Preese confirmed. "Hopefully that'll be enough to see us home."

Ryke nodded. "Good. Kim?"

"Sir?"

"Comms?"

"Sorry, sarge, too far out to get any kind of clean line back to Brekka." She shrugged apologetically. "If we get some patches of clear weather we might get lucky, but otherwise we're going to be walking for a couple of days before we can report in."

"You walked all the way here?" Ivy gasped, eyeing the battered Hunter-Killers dubiously.

He shrugged. "Couldn't risk a Mammoth. Too big a target. We needed to be quick, and not draw too much attention."

"Watching Lords, Ryke. Do you even enough fuel to get home?"

Erin took a fatalistic puff on her leafwrap. "It'll be tight."

"They overclocked the reactors with extra tanks," Brigg elaborated. "We knew it'd be a long trip. But yeah, it's still gonna be a tight squeeze."

"And there might be more of Grunn's friends between here and Brekka." Ryke gestured to the mechs with a wave of his hand. "Would be happy for you to take a look at the tanks if you feel you're up to it."

Ivy nodded, but before she could spring into action, Kelso caught her by the arm.

"Hold on, what about the rest of us?" he asked. "Not that we don't appreciate the help Ryke, but we can't walk back to Brekka. We don't have any supplies, or any protection, and we can't exactly get inside the Hunter-Killers. If we get hit by a sandstorm we're as good as dead."

"Yeah." Ryke bit his lip and glanced up at Grunn, who had remained there, silently watching proceedings like a statue.

The Scraegan met his gaze and Ryke dipped his head towards the ragtag group of surviving engineers. Grunn let out a faint huff of breath, then looked at him expectantly. In reply, it clenched a fist and pressed it against the open palm of his free hand, before moving it in a circular motion.

Dig?

Grunn looked down at Ivy and the others, looking less that optimistic. His lips curled, one brow rising in a motion that was fearsomely human. Then he grunted out a short phrase. Ryke took a moment to compose himself, then barked out a small response, a low cough, follow by a kind of half snarl. He'd learned that it meant something analogous to 'follow' in the Scraegan tongue; it was what Grunn had said to him when he convinced the Hunter-Killers themselves to brave the depths.

Then he pointed at Grunn.

The warrior's shoulders slumped a little, like a petulant child being forced into a task he really did not enjoy. In the end though, he nodded his big head, before turning and stomping off towards the rest of his back, growling out orders as he went.

"Ryke... what's going on?" Ivy asked uneasily.

"There's a way to get you all back safely," he replied, giving her an apologetic look. "But you're not going to like it."

*

They were almost halfway back to Brekka when the news reached them. Once they drew back within comms range, Kim fired up her Raptor mech's powerful communication rig to make their report, only to discover the mess that was currently unfolding to the north.

Another army from Rubicon was knocking on their door, only this time Brekka didn't want to open up.

"Avalanche, get Grunn up here," Ryke said over the comm.

"Copy, Lockjaw," Brigg answered, and his Goliath mech slowed out of line, getting some clear ground to thump out a message on its heavily tuned seismics.

A moment later he saw the readings of Grunn and his pack respond, rising from their paths through the loose rock and shale of the badlands until they re-emerged. And with them they brought their precious cargo.

The Scraegans surfaced up ahead, and every second warrior carried a survivor on its back. None of them had been exactly willing to take the ride, but in the end there hadn't been a lot of choice. So far they'd avoided any further clashes with the renegade Scraegans, but they had not dodged two vicious dust storms that would have killed the unprotected humans in minutes.

He saw Ivy slide off of Grunn's back as he straightened up, walking on unsteady legs. Her face was a shell-shocked mask as she frantically wiped off the muck and dirt from the latest leg of the journey. His heart wrenched with sympathy, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Lockjaw – Typhoon," Ryke said into the wide-band as the two groups coalesced again. "You're on squad-wide with my people."

"Copy that, Lockjaw. Damn good to hear from you – about time we got some good news," Major Farrell 'Typhoon' Kwendo answered.

"You said Rubicon sent another army?"

"Yeah. And not just Rubicon. There are banners from Helloc-Mera, Dimmer Valley, Wrentus, Conossiapolis, Verdantine and Fire Ridge."

"How many are there?" Ryke asked.

"If I had to guess, I'd say they'd emptied the north for this." The leader of Brekka's Hunter-Killers sounded like he was just barely containing his anger. "Hunter-Killers, armoured companies, infantry divisions, fast attack units, artillery columns scout platoons – the lot. Easily three times what they sent last time. And all with that prick Llewellyn in charge."

"Everflowing," Preese muttered. "And what do they want?"

"Officially they're here to protect Brekka from a 'resurgent Scraegan threat'," Kwendo sneered. "Unofficially, it's pretty clear they want to set up inside the walls and start running the city. Seems they don't like how we've been doing things lately and have decided to teach us another lesson."

Ryke's face contorted with anger. He didn't know much about the politics, beyond the fact that he shared a deep-seated bitterness at the apparent ingratitude their northern counterparts showed towards the sacrifices Brekka's people had made over decades of conflict.

The closest city. The front line. A place that had been subject to the worst ravages of the Scraegan war for years. They were owed better than commandments from ministers a thousand miles away who'd never seen a real Scraegan warrior in their lives.

He couldn't say for certain, but it didn't take much of a leap of logic to know why Rubicon's armies were here. They'd decided the war was back on, and they were here to finish what they'd started, with or without the consent of Brekka's leaders.

"And if you don't let them in," Ryke continued. "What happens?"

"I'm hoping we don't have to find out. So far they seem happy enough to wait. They've set up a temporary camp out on the west side of the city – bloody place is bigger than Stamm Basin. So far they've stayed there."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"With an army that size, it's not like we could stop them if they wanted to take the city."

"Everflowing, Vannigan – they might be a bunch of prigs from the north, but I don't think they're here to start a civil war. It's just Rubicon throwing its weight around. We're gonna wait this out, but when you get here, just make sure you've got your wits about you. We've had some... disputes over defensive patrol routes already."

"Copy that, sir." Ryke shook his head grimly. The last thing he wanted to see was another group spoiling for a fight. Rubicon's army was all they needed to plunge the south into a fresh decade of bloodshed. "We'll be home soon. Don't start any fights before we get back."

"I'll do my best, sergeant. Swim safe. Typhoon out."

"Pissing Rivers," Scantlin growled. "Is this for real, boss? They're gonna pull this crap all over again?"

"Sounds like it, Haze." Ryke couldn't stop a cold chill of unease creeping through his bones. Even for Rubicon this seemed beyond bold. "Medea, you got anything to chime on this, I'm all ears."

"Sorry, sergeant," Qadria replied tightly. "I just work here."
"You're from Rubicon. Any speculation?"

"Last time it was clear that the war wasn't going your way. That's why they sent us. Now...?" He almost heard her roll her eyes. "There have always been people in Rubicon who get caught up in the politics; in the games. If enough people there believe that peace with the Scraegans isn't going to last, they might've decided to take matters into their own hands. It's not like fighting Scraegans is hard sell."

"Even if they have to roll over Brekka to do it?"

"That... that's the part that doesn't add up to me."

"Me neither." Ryke blew out his cheeks in a sigh as Grunn came to a halt in front of him, the Scraegan fixing him with an expectant look. "Alright, everybody take five minutes while I figure out how to explain to Grunn the mess we're about to walk into."