When Brekka's walls finally came into view again, Ryke felt a broiling mixture of relief and apprehension. Those walls had been his world for the longest time, taking him in after the Scraegans destroyed his home all those years ago.

He remembered vividly the old Ryke Vannigan. It was barely two years ago that he'd first applied for the Hunter-Killers and hurled himself into the war, wanting little more than vengeance. Now here he was, approaching Brekka with a Scraegan warband by his side.

It was a weird old world they lived in.

Grunn and the others shed their human burdens as they drew within sight of Brekka, with the surviving engineers and guards hitching a lift on the armoured hides of the Hunter-Killers for the final leg of the journey. He was aware of Ivy perched on the shoulder of his mech, her faint weight only just registering on the war machine's physical feedback loop.

It should have been a triumphant moment. They'd just plunged deep, deep into enemy territory, and pulled off a rescue alongside a Scraegan ally. By any metric it was a momentous day, but the dark cloud rising to the west of the city reminded him that their problems may only just have been beginning.

The armies of the north, camped right on their doorstep. Uninvited.

"HK-Rupture – Forge-CC6," Ryke called over the wide-band to the Brekkan military command. "This is Sergeant Vannigan – callsign 'Lockjaw' – we are on approach to the southern gates, with friendlies. Are we cleared to enter?"

"Well, I'll be damned," a woman's voice chucked after a moment. "Not bad, sergeant, not bad at all."

He realised with a jolt that the person speaking was none other than Colonel Hackley.

"Ma'am!"

"Good to have you back in one piece."

"Thank you, ma'am." He grinned. "Operation was a success. And I think we've learned a little more about the Scraegans who are spoiling for a fight. Whoever they are, our friends here didn't think much of them."

"I can't wait to read the mission report," Hackley replied, and from his experience of the woman, he didn't think she was joking.

"I heard you've got some guests of your own. What's our situation?"

The levity quickly faded from her voice. "Let's be charitable and call it 'delicate', eh? You'll receive a full update after your debrief. In the meantime, we have you tagged and confirmed. Standing by for your arrival. Welcome home, Lockjaw. Damn fine work, from all of you."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Countermand that. I say again, countermand. HK-Rupture, you are not cleared for approach."

The sudden bark over the comm made Ryke flinch, his brow scrunching up in confusion as he tried to identify the source. The Hunter-Killer's system's rooted through the comm bands until it found where the signal had originated from. His heart sank when he saw the blinking indicator on the HUD, sitting slap right in the middle of the northern military encampment.

"Who in the bloody Rapids is this?" Hackley snarled. "Identification – now, soldier!"

"This is Captain Bakken, chief of staff to General Llewellyn. There are live hostile targets on approach to Brekka. We have standing orders to engage any Scraegans within our defensive perimeter. Rapid deployment units are already en route."

"Hostile targets?" Ryke erupted. "Lieutenant, these Scraegans are our allies."

"We have standing orders," the man repeated bluntly. "I repeat, you are not cleared for approach while the Scraegan presence remains intact. Our units will reach you in four minutes. I advise you to move clear of the Scraegans and surrender yourself to the custody of our units-,"

"Custody?" Hackley's voice sounded like it could have set the man on fire. "You're overstepping your bounds in a big way, Captain. I want to speak to Llewellyn, right now!"

"Ma'am, the general is not-,"

"I don't care if he's trying to take a piss or butting heads with a Scraegan. Get him on this radio right now before I come down to your camp and find him myself!"

There was a pause.

"I'll see what I can do, ma'am."

Then the comm went dead. Ryke blinked in amazement.

"Is this serious?" Brigg blurted. "Medea, you really think your boys are gonna follow through with this?!"

Qadira didn't reply immediately, and when she did her voice was tight with awkwardness. "I ... I don't know. Maybe. We – they – wanted to take full command last time. Made a deal instead. Maybe... maybe they've changed tactic?"

"Well they can drown that," Kim snapped. "We're not going to let them do this, right, Lockjaw?"

"No we are not," Ryke agreed, switching his comm over to a tight-band with Colonel Hackley. "Still there, Colonel?"

"I'm here."

"They tried to pull a stunt like this before?"

"Not yet. But you do have a Scraegan pack with you – apparently that's all the excuse they needed."

On the HUD he could see the rapid response unit from the northern army coming their way – a larger than normal Hunter-Killer squadron of fifteen mechs, along with a tank brigade and several mechanised infantry trucks.

"We don't have a lot of time," Ryke told her. "How do you want me to handle this, ma'am?"

"Stall them. We're scrambling our own damned response group and a transport for your non-combatants."

"And if they try and press the issue?"

"If they try to 'arrest' you, then on my personal authority, you are to take any measures you deem necessary to defend yourself. Understand me, Sergeant?"

The implications chilled Ryke to the core, but he nodded. "I do, ma'am. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Let's hope. And for the love of the Everflowing River get your Scraegan friends to back off before they become target practice, will you?! Hackley out."

"Pissing Rivers," Ryke swore under his breath. He could see the dust cloud of the northern forces approaching. This was really happening.

"Ivy?" he sent his voice out through the Hunter-Killer's speakers.

"Yeah?"

"I think you'd better get down."

"Be careful," she cautioned, thumping a gentle fist on the shoulder guard.

"I will."

Lowering his mech to one knee, he allowed her to slither down off of the shoulder plate, where she scurried off to join Kelso and the other non-combatants who were hastily putting as much distance between themselves and the coming confrontation as possible.

Ryke stood again, dread washing over him. In the campaign against the Scraegans, and the Crawlers thereafter, he'd had his share of run ins with the northern soldiers, but having a bust up over professional pride was different to having a full blown shooting war.

He tried to think if such a thing had ever happened. Had a Hunter-Killer ever fought another? He didn't think so. For so long it had just been them against the Scraegans.

What was coming next?

With their burdens shed, the other Hunter-Killers formed up with him, and he chanced a look back to Grunn and his warriors. The Scraegan's face looked thoroughly uninterested, if a little confused. He had no idea what had just been exchanged along the human radio waves.

"Grunn!" he shouted, stomping over to the hulking Beta.

The Scraegan moved to meet him with a rumble, warhammer twisting uneasily in one big paw. His head swivelled just a little, dark eyes fixing on the approaching humans.

Ryke nodded with that exaggerated way of gesturing he'd gotten used to within the Hunter-Killer. He pointed back over his shoulder, and then pointed right at Grunn.

The Scraegan let out a growl. That, at least was a sign he understood. Around him, the warriors of the pack obviously sensed the shift in their leader's mood though and they started shuffling into a rough line. Furnace cannons began to whine.

"No, no, no!" Ryke barked desperately, shaking, shaking and shaking his head. He stepped forward, and risked laying a metal hand on Grunn's shoulder.

It was like touching a rock, but one that flinched slightly under the contact. Ryke gripped as hard as he dared, and then pointed back the way they'd come. Pointed, jabbed a finger, and then forced his human vocal chords to wrestle out the growling coughing noise that had been roughly translated to 'go', or 'begin'.

He repeated it a few times until Grunn got the message. The beta tossed his head angrily, but Ryke held firm. While he didn't consider himself an expert in any kind of Scraegan psychology, it didn't take much of a mental leap to understand that running from a fight was not in their DNA.

Please understand.

In the end it took him miming several explosions for Grunn to understand the full import of what this would mean. If Scraegans started fighting humans again, here, on Brekka's doorstep, that would be the end of it.

The Scraegan warrior's shoulders sagged and he huffed out a petulant growl, before turning to his warriors and bellowing out a command. Some of them looked baffled by whatever was being said, but after a few more roars of emphasis and some encouraging smacks with his free paw, Grunn got them moving.

The Scraegans set off, heading for softer ground where they could disappear from sight.

Only when he looked at the HUD did Ryke realise how long that had taken them. The force from Rubicon was almost right on top of them. Exhaling sharply, he turned around again.

"What now, boss?" Preese asked.

"Everybody form up," he ordered. "Standard skirmish line. Between Grunn and our new friends over there."

They moved, but he saw the faint hesitation from a few signatures on the HUD – a split second of indecision from his pilots as they wrestled with what that order could mean.

"Drown me," Scantlin chuckled bleakly over the comm. "Back where we started, eh?"

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" Ryke shook his head grimly within his Hunter-Killer as the HUD began snaring targets. The crimson livery of Rubicon Hunter-Killers shone on the forward cameras as the response force closed in, and he could see the tanks and lighter vehicles spreading out to the flanks.

"HK-Rupture," Ryke said, doing his best to keep his voice cold and calm as he spoke. "I need you all to listen very carefully. We are not going to let these people past us to catch and kill the Scraegans who just helped us rescue our friends. They're following bad orders and they don't know it. So we're going to stay right here, right in their way. And we're not going into anyone's custody. I don't care who they are, or how many bars they're carrying. They do not have the authority. But you heard the colonel. If they push the issue, we are not going quietly."

The comm crackled with a fresh incoming signal, spearing straight into his cockpit from the lead Hunter-Killer of the approaching force.

"HK-Rupture, this is Lieutenant Glass, commanding officer of HK-Sparta. Callsign 'Titan'. Please proceed to the attached waypoint where you will be escorted to temporary operational command. Please follow the given course to keep you out of our attack approach."

"This is it everybody." He ignored the waypoint, rolling his shoulders, hands flexing inside the neural interface gauntlets. "We're not letting this happen." Licking his lips, he closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Qadira?"

"Sir?"

"Those are your people out there. If you don't want to do this, follow their instructions and get out of here. No one here'll judge you."

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "But I think this is the right place to be. Whether you're my people are not."

"And that's what makes you one of our people, Medea," Preese told her.

"Thanks, Deadbolt."

"Don't mention it."

"Well, if we're all agreed," Ryke continued, "then HK-Rupture, on my lead."

And he stepped forward, walking right at the Rubicon mechs. On the HUD he could see a fresh set of friendly indicators emerging from Brekka's southern gates – a Hunter-Killer squadron – HK-Thresher – and a full scout cadre platoon. They were three minutes distant.

About two minutes too late.

"Lockjaw-Titan," Ryke thundered, planting the feet of his mech decisively to face the Rubicon soldiers. "This is Sergeant Vannigan, HK-Rupture. Lieutenant, I strongly suggest that you stand down." He set his feet, and swivelled the Hunter-Killer into a fighting stance.

"Sergeant, I would rather do this peacefully," Glass replied. To his credit, he at least sounded like he meant it. "Please follow the instructions you've been given."

"My people are not under your command, and neither am I." To accent the point, Ryke let the targeting sensors of the Hunter-Killer lock onto the lieutenant's mech. "Those Scraegans are not enemies. You will let them go peacefully, or you and I are going to have a very big problem."

"Weapons locked," Brigg grated. "Targeting solutions plotted. Just say the word, Ryke."

Similar messages rattled along in the wake of Brigg's announcement, and all along the line the eight mechs of his command readied their guns – training them on their fellows for the first time.

"You're outnumbered, Vannigan," Glass blurted. It wasn't panic, so much as disbelief that this actually might happen. Ryke wondered what misconceptions the man had been given before they sent him out here. "This is a direct order. You will assemble your mechs at the waypoint-"

"I don't take orders from you," Ryke cut him off, then cut the comm, switching to his own pilots. "Steady, people. Finger on the trigger."

He watched the HUD intently. For a few more seconds Glass's response force kept coming, but at about fifty meters away they slowed.

And slowed.

And slowed.

Barely twenty meters away, the line of Hunter-Killers came to a halt, the vehicle support spreading out wide. On the wings, Kim and Scantlin edged out with them, making it clear than any attempt to simply get around the mechs would not go unchallenged.

"Alright, Titan?" Ryke challenged. "What's it going to be?"

"We have our orders," Glass replied, though he didn't sound very sure of himself anymore. "I am authorised to take you into custody."

"Not authorised by my people," Ryke answered. "I don't know you, Lieutenant, but I don't think you want to do this. You didn't come to fight people like me."

The crackle of silence on the comm was enough to tell him that he was right. His eyes flickered to the HUD. The relief force from Brekka would be at their position in thirty seconds.

"I'm not going to be outnumbered for much longer," he said.

"They've got their weapons hot on us now," Kim advised. "Lockjaw, if we let them shoot first there's not gonna be many of us left to shoot back."

"Copy," he murmured. He could see the cannons and tank guns swivelling to aim.

Seconds ticked by. It was out of his hands now. No matter the consequences, he knew he couldn't shoot first. It all depended on whether or not Lieutenant Glass really had the conviction to just start shooting the people who were supposed to be his allies.

In the end, he'd never know if the man simply lost his nerve, or deliberately delayed his firing. Those final thirty seconds disappeared, and a full flight of Scout Cadre skiffs came sweeping into position behind Ryke's mechs, forming a long line with their cannons already primed.

Close on their heels, the burnished brass mechs of HK-Thresher came pounding across the plateau, filling the gaps between HK-Rupture's strung out line, turning into a veritable wall of metal.

"Raider-Lockjaw," said the commander of HK-Thresher a moment later, her voice firm. "We've got you covered."

"Copy that, Raider. Thanks for making the time."

"Wouldn't miss it. These tin-soldiers giving you trouble?"

"They were. Let's see if they still want it." Ryke flicked the comm open to Lieutenant Glass again. "Lockjaw-Titan?"

"Go ahead."

"You still want to do this?"

"You are cleared for entry into Brekka," the man replied, his voice heavy with resignation. "I suggest you be quick about it, Sergeant, because this isn't over."