The enemy was coming.

Ryke gently curled and uncurled his fingers inside the hulking gauntlets of the Dreadnought, feeling the raw power simmering in the physical feedback loop. He felt like could tear a mountain in half. The triple housing of the modified warblades shone green on his HUD, ready to deliver death to any alien that crossed his path.

Inside the other Dreadnought, Scantlin sat, the result of a painstaking internal debate amongst the squad. In the end, his experience won out, given that he'd started off piloting the agile Raptors and moved into his position in the Riot mech without much difficulty. He'd proven he could adapt to new challenges.

Behind them the rest of HK-Rupture waited, part of the vast line of human armour that stretched across the northern edge of the Crescentscar valley. The town itself, nestled in the valley base, was visible as a clump of lights, transformed now from a bustling mining hub into a military fortress. Most of its civilian population had been carted off to Brekka. The stubborn few who remained had armed themselves, not willing to abandon their homes. They joined the heavy emplacements of the militia and Engineering Cadre sappers that had turned virtually every street and building into a death trap.

It had been two days since he stood in that hangar and watched Grunn walk away. Even with the enormous alien host bearing down on them, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Where was the Scraegan now? How many friends, comrades and family members was he about to lose in the coming war?

"Field Command CC-1 to all units," General Bosede's deep voice rumbled over the wideband. "Confirmed enemy contacts on approach. All gunners prepare suppressing salvo, all counter-brigades prepare for deployment. Sapper teams, deploy deepstrike mines."

He sounded fearsomely calm. Probably easier for him, having not faced down one of the alien creatures before. Ryke took a deep breath.

"Weapons checks," he said quietly into the squad comm. "Party's coming."

"Wouldn't miss it," Fenix chuckled grimly. "A whole lot heavy they've got here, sarge. How's that big hulk of yours handle?"

"Feels just like it looks, Riptide," he answered with a smile. "What do you think, Haze? Little different to your first trip out, eh?"

Scantlin let out a snort of disdain. "I've driven rocks with more subtlety than this thing."

"Is it too late to swap? I'd have that thing dancing."

"Just run your checks," Ryke laughed, checking over the Dreadnought's systems one last time.

Comm checks flitted back and forth as the immense gathering of human soldiers prepared to meet the oncoming storm. Charpente and the mechs of HK-Praxis were off to their right; to the left stood the mechs of HK-Bandit. Dozens more battle mechs formed clumps behind them, mixed in with Scout Cadre flights and small columns of northern battle tanks. When the time came, their wing of the line would come slamming in on the enemy – one half of the great jaws about to envelope Crescentscar.

Then the enemy came into view. The suns of Rychter, hanging low on the horizon, illuminated the swarm of huge dark bodies racing across the plain in long snaking columns. Ryke rolled his neck from side to side and breathed deep, running through all the training specs of the massive Hunter-Killer.

"Ground penetrating radar has contacts," came the call from Colonel Hackley coordinating the Scouts from the mobile command centre. "We have Crawlers in the dirt, repeat, Crawlers in the dirt."

Coming overground and under it. Ryke's face split into a cold smile. They would find a nasty surprise waiting for them beneath Rychter's surface.

Moments later, the first mines detonated. Huge, atomic mines, like the ones he'd used to kill the Crawler queen. How futile that memory seemed in the face of what was coming.

Ryke felt the vibrations, shockwaves ripping through the earth beneath his feet and making the interior of his mech tremble under the force. Seismic indicators screamed across the HUD, and in the distance he saw the massive fountains of earth erupting like volcanoes. Bodies went up with them, the flailing, mangled forms of Crawlers picked out by his optics. Craters hundreds of yards across opened the ground.

The aliens drove their host on. He could see them now, the gleaming, insectoid forms scurrying amongst the waves of Crawlers in twos and threes. More Crawlers dragged themselves out of the ground as their tunnel systems collapsed under the force of the deepstrike mines, adding their weight to enemy army.

They hit the second minefield next, a thicket of smaller explosives that cracked carapaces and tore up the earth, but he saw the aliens themselves stride straight through detonations, their armour plating flickering and flexing as it absorbed the destructive forces.

Already though, hundreds of Crawlers were dead, their ravaged, twitching bodies littering the plain beyond Crescentscar. Their enemy eventually extracted themselves from the minefield, and Ryke watched them split, just as the analysts had hoped, streaming towards both ends of the valley that protected Crescentscar.

Then the guns far behind him boomed into life.

Battery after battery of northern artillery vented their fury, sending a storm of shells raining down into the teeth of the enemy advance. He finally saw one of the aliens out in front die under the relentless hail, its carapace finally buckling and caving in under several direct hits. The killing blow was astonishingly lucky from such a distance, but Ryke didn't care.

They can die, he told himself. They're going to die.

"Keep pouring it on boys," Preese grated, the gauntlet of his mech rising in a fist as shells continued to fall.

"They're getting close," Ryke warned. "Everybody be ready."

The two great snakes of enemy troops were moving slower now, the Crawlers spreading out into packs behind their overlords and moving in scurrying motions between each creeping barrage. They inched closer and closer, and on the Hunter-Killer's enhanced sights, Ryke could see the pinpricks of light glittering along the flanks of some of the insects.

Shells kept falling, pounding the entrances to both sides of the valley, and as the enemy bottlenecked into the designated kill zones, the order came.

"All counter-brigades, deploy and engage."

"HK-Rupture!" Ryke roared. "On my lead! Praxis, Bandit, close on our flank and follow us in. Let's paint the sand with these bastards."

"Copy that, Lockjaw," Charpente snarled, and the line of Hunter-Killers surged forward. Scout flights whipped past them, mine launchers spinning into readiness on their rear housings, with the tanks bringing up the rear. Low-hulled and short barrelled, the brutes of the northern armoured companies gunned their engines and accelerated.

It was there, at Crescentscar, where the war for Rychter truly began.

Mines fell; skiffs strafed across the line, cannons thundering and fire rails packed with Scout Cadre soldiers. While the lighter weapons of the scouts didn't score many kills they sowed further mayhem in the enemy ranks as the Crawlers attention was torn. Wall guns from Crescentscar in the valley floor erupted, battering the front line of the alien advance from the other side.

Then Ryke saw something white hot pulse vibrantly from within the mass of bodies, and an instant later one of the skiffs simply split apart, its hull cracking open right down the middle, spilling bodies and debris in all directions. He glimpsed the sear of molten metal before the skiff smashed to the earth, swallowed up by the stampeding limbs of the Crawlers.

Looking past the grizzly scene, he saw one of the aliens moving through the crush of bodies, two of its four arms cradling a bizarre looking instrument that sizzled with the aftermath of its discharge. It wasn't quite a cannon, more like squashed sphere with indents on the left and right where the creature's strange appendages fitted into place. It throbbed with light, getting brighter and bright, charging for another shot.

"Avalanche, Two-Step!" Ryke bellowed without breaking stride. "You see what I see?"

"I got you, Sarge," Brigg barked in reply.

"Then break that shiny toy."

"Solid copy."

He heard the thump of the Goliath cannons, blasting into the crush. The first caught the alien in the shoulder, staggering it briefly before the armour absorbed the explosive force. The second shot, however, tore the weapon out of the creature's grip.

It threw back its head and let out a creaking, cracking scream of anger.

"Tear 'em apart!" Ryke snarled as he hit the enemy line, hurling his Dreadnought straight into the closest Crawler. Its armoured carapace buckled as he smashed one shoulder into it, before bringing his left arm swinging, blades extended in a savage uppercut that ripped a gaping hole in the thing's body.

Backlash rounds from the other Hunter-Killers blew holes in the Crawlers, before the human charge smashed home.

Metal crushed into bone. Tank cannons boomed at point blank range. Bodies blew apart and machines were smashed asunder. Crawlers hurled themselves forth with fresh fury, scrabbling over tank hulls, pouncing on Hunter-Killers and swiping at the fast-moving scouts. A bloodbath erupted all around him.

"Combat pairings," Ryke roared, hacking and punching another crawler into a pulpy mess. "Keep your spacing!"

HK-Rupture led the way. With Scantlin close behind, Ryke formed the point of a wedge plunging deep into the enemy line, trying to split their ranks entirely. More the strange white hot weapons flashed, and he saw one of the northern tank have its barrel shorn clean off.

"What in the pissing River are they firing?!" Kim exclaimed.

"Just keep moving!" Ryke growled. "Stay in amongst them and stay out of the line of fire."

A flare of white snapped in the corner of his vision even as he finished speaking, and he felt a sudden surge of heat in his left shoulder. Alarms blared through the pilot cradle and he saw a critical damage indicator blinking on the HUD.

The shot had melted his shoulder plate, almost all the way through.

With a wordless snarl he turned his mech in the direction of the shooter. "On my lead!"

Turning his right shoulder forward, he barged one of the Crawlers aside, his mech's powerful servos grinding and flipping the creature onto its back. A nearby tank planted a shell straight into its underside as the Hunter-Killers thundered by.

His eyes remained fixed on the alien that had shot at him. Its weapon was recharging, and on the HUD Ryke saw erratic fluctuations in the temperature in the air around him. Gritting his teeth, he sent the Dreadnought into a thunderous run at the monster.

It saw him coming, and turned into his charge, forelimbs rising in challenge.

He twisted his mech to the left in an awkward pirouette as the legs descended, pounding empty earth instead of his skull. Ryke lurched back towards it, driving the intact shoulder plate hard into one of its other legs. The armour held, but the limb beneath couldn't withstand the weight and he felt a heavy crunch.

Then the thing's body writhed sideways, smashing into him and sending him sprawling onto his back. Impact alarms screeched from the Dreadnought's front plating, but he ignored them, fighting to get back to his feet.

He rose up, just in time to see Scantlin slam his three pronged blade into the alien's opposite flank. There was a moment of resistance as the reactive armour tried to push him away, but the sheer weight of the Dreadnought was more than enough to carry it forward, the warblades sinking deep into the creature's flank.

Scantlin's gauntlet discharged, sending three high explosive charges directly into the breaches he'd just created. The thing went after him, but he rolled clear, and an instant later the charges blew.

Ryke watched, eyes wide with amazement as the alien's outer shell blew open from the inside out, leaving a three meter chasm in its abdomen. A viscous, snot-green blood spurted out onto the sands of Rychter as the alien slumped in a heap, burbling and twitching.

"Looks like the new tech works," Brigg exclaimed as the squad regrouped around Ryke, lashing shots in all directions.

"Well, that's one of them down." Panting heavily, Ryke flexed his metal jaw to ease the ache from the vibrations and moved to the front of the line again.

Charpente's mechs were causing havoc along their side of the line, while a mix of tanks and the pilots of HK-Bandit had embroiled another whole segment of the enemy advance in a messy slugging match. And all the while shells continued to rain down from above into the ranks beyond, a never ending thunderstorm.

"Lockjaw, cannon's getting low," Yassyn warned, her voice shrill and tight.

"Confirm that," Preese interjected. "We're gonna have to rotate out soon, boss."

"Lockjaw-Sharps, my people are running low on ammo," Ryke barked. "Status?"

"Thirty percent capacity," she snapped back.

"Lockjaw – Field Command CC-1," General Bosede's deep voice suddenly carved into his comm link. Confusion spilling into his mind, he stepped back, letting the rest of the squad move forward, pounding the enemy line with backlash rounds as he listened.

"Copy, this is Lockjaw," he rasped, blinking sweat from his eyes. "Go ahead, sir."

"I've got a job for you, Sergeant."

"A job?" Ryke's face twisted with confusion. "Thought I had a job already, sir?"

"Let's just call it overtime, Vannigan. I've got a Corporal Shanklin here, and she's got a favour to ask."

"Ivy?!" Ryke couldn't believe his ears. "You're really there?"

"I'm here, Ryke."

"I... what in the Everflowing? Why?"

"I'm here to kill these things, Sergeant," she replied. "I don't have time to give you the whole thesis, but we've got a plan. Snag is, if it's going to work, we need a sample of that armour plating."

Ryke's eyes went wide. "You need what?"

"I don't know about this, boss!"

"Shut up, Preese! I'm trying to save all your asses out there," Ivy growled. "Just get us a piece of that armour. We think can find a way to get through it without you having to stick yourself right on top of them."

"That would be a nice change!" Scantlin shouted as he pummelled his Dreadnought's fist hard into the skull of a downed Crawler.

"Seconded," Erin put in as she cracked off another shot from her Goliath. "But whatever we're gonna do, we better do it quick."

"Blood Lords." Ryke looked down at the dead alien. "Well, it just so happens that this is your lucky day, Ivy. But I've got to tell you, you've got bad taste in gifts."