Chapter 60 - Vandals

The enemy had figured out that the humans were up to something.

Brackenshaw could see it on the HUD, even without the long range radar that had been fitted to Rihkotso's skiff. The Crawlers were trailing them, moving at a fearsome enough pace to scare the hell out of her. They weren't gaining, but they were close enough to prevent any kind of change of direction. They were committed now.

She thanked every Watching Lord for their surprise rendezvous with Grunn and his warriors. The big Scraegan's body was a patchwork of cuts, bites, burns and scrapes, his armour dented and his warhammer stained with dark blood. She wondered how many of those things he'd killed; how many close calls he'd had in the process. It had taken more time than she would have liked, but she eventually managed to get the message across; to make Grunn understand what they were doing.

Once he understood, the Scraegan led his warband to escort the skiffs to their destination. Although it mean moving slower, Brackenshaw knew they would need the firepower. Who knew how many more enemies might be lying in wait beneath the sands?

Things got worse as they drew within sight of the ragged jaws of the Scraegar Labyrinth. Packs of Crawlers and their alien herders began closing in from all sides, appearing from further south than she thought possible. Advance parties, perhaps, redirected to swat this audacious human incursion out of existence. Other Scraegan warbands still harried their foes, the thunder of distant clashes growing a little too close for Brackenshaw's comfort.

"Keep it close, people," she advised her surviving pilots as the wall of the labyrinth loomed larger in her vision. The HUD of her armoured goggles overlaid their planned route, snaking up over those huge rocky crags, up and up and up, until they reached the top of the alien transmitter.

Hynan, Locke and Marder sent their clipped replies through, their training carrying them forward. Casualties had been anticipated from the outset, and between them they still carried more than enough explosives to finish their mission.

She glanced at the skiff's display and swallowed hard. Crawler tunnels were closing rapidly on them. Brackenshaw found herself wondering what kind of range those strange, heat guns of the aliens had. How close would they need to get with one of those things before they could just vaporise her?

No use worrying about that now, the voice in her head told her wryly.

They reached the edge of the labyrinth at the point Kelso and the Blackwaters had picked out, a steep, broad ridge of rock that would carry them into the heights. The skiffs ought to just about manage the narrow paths ahead, but one slip of the hand could easily send her plunging into oblivion.

"Keep your engines hot people," she called. "And watch your sides. It's gonna get tight up here."

"Gonna get even tighter back here, ma'am!" Marder warned from the rear of the group. "These things are gonna be right on top of us!"

A glance at the HUD told her he was right, several of the small packs of Crawlers were converging on them now, some of the just a few hundred meters away.

"Just get to the slope," she replied. "They can't dig through that."

Her stomach lurched as she hit the incline, and gunned the skiffs engine. Heat and dust washed out from its flanks as the lifters snarled, forcing the little craft onto the upward trajectory. The Scraegans emerged around them, the big creatures thundering upward, paw over paw, unable to dig through the rock, instead using their heavy claws for purchase.

She looked down at her HUD as the Crawler indicators closed in on them, meters vanishing into the voice. Brackenshaw's mouth went dry when the readings reached the rocks of the labyrinth.

And carried on.

"Oh, Everflowing, you have got to be kidding me!" she hissed.

"What was that about digging?!" Locke blurted.

No time to think. No time to curse the universe for its unfairness. It seemed these Crawlers could tunnel through solid rock. Somehow.

"Double time it! Move, move, move! And if a scrap breaks out, leave the Scraegans to do the dirty work. We have got one job to do out here. Now, on my lead!"

Gritting her teeth, she drove them higher, the peak of their target marked out by her goggles. Going over the top of the labyrinth, it didn't seem that far – not really. She swallowed down all the fear that was snapping at the corner of her mind and just carried on, following that glowing line on the display.

Concentrating on that was hard enough. Her lungs almost slammed out of her chest more than once when the skiff slithered along a narrow rocky edge, close to pitching her off into oblivion. Behind her, the others stayed close, while the Scraegans followed as best they could.

But none of them could go at their full speed. Between the steep inclines and the delicate tightrope they had to walk, the Crawlers rapidly gained ground, somehow just plunging headlong through the rocks.

Brackenshaw eked everything out of her skiff, sweat soaking her hair and cheeks as she battled on the limits. They coiled their way along the arching spines of rock, climbing high enough that she could feel the sear of the suns just a little bit more, and the scorched air was just a little bit thinner. She could see the rise of their destination now, a section of the labyrinth's cragged surface opening out before her into a broader slope of rock.

"Ma'am, heat readings off the charts!" came the sudden yell from Sergeant Hynan. "Right beneath us! I think the party's here."

Confusion rattled in her mind as she looked around. Then she saw it, the ring of coiling smoke just to the right of their column. The rocks of the slope grew hotter and hotter, so much that she could feel it even more than twenty meters away.

"Keep going!" she yelled, pushing her skiff to its limit as more hotspots sprang up on either side of them.

Off to the right, the first boiling ring of rock suddenly... disintegrated.

Her eyes went wide in shock as a broad circle several meters across seemed to melt away. She sheer heat forced her to pull up, wrenching to the left to try and get around the melting pot.

Then she heard the batter of heavy, insect-like feet.

"INCOMING!" she screamed.

The first Crawler that tore itself out of the smoking chasm in the ground was met head on by Grunn. Seemingly unbothered by the residual heat, the Scraegan timed his lunge to ram the point of his long spear right through its under-maw. Bone and carapace crunched, blood exploded across the ground, and the creature tipped sideways, slamming to the earth with its legs flailing.

"Bloody Rivers, boss," Locke exclaimed. "They're melting clean through the ground!"

A moment later the other hotspots began to give way. Furnace cannons lashed in all directions as more of the arthropods began bursting free. The Scraegan warriors hurled themselves into the fray, but the Crawlers were soon followed by their alien masters, the creatures propelled along at a frightening speed by their multiple limbs. Those that emerged all seemed to carry the same, strange ovoid cannons, all of them swirling and hissing with intense heat.

Although not possessing the same natural digging ability of a Scraegan, or their Crawler pets, the new arrivals had clearly bridged a gap with technology where biology would not.

Those huge, centipede-like head sections swivelled left and right, and she heard the crackling, hissing of the beasts. Their legs began thumping again, banging out fresh battle-rhythm on the unsteady ground. All around her a brutal melee erupted as the Scraegan warriors began to sell their lives.

Sell them for her. For the mission.

"Stay close and stay on target!" Brackenshaw roared into the comm. "We're in the home stretch people!"

"Copy!"

"Copy!"

"Copy!"

The indicators of her comrades pulled in right behind her as she send her skiff rocketing forward through the battle. Her hands gripped the controls tight, and she lowered her head behind the skiff's blast shield. The huge bodies rushed towards her, and she jinked left, dodging the thrash of a tail, before plunging in between two Scraegans that were driving another of the beasts backwards.

Her engines flared. She wrenched her vehicle into a savage ninety-degree turn to the right, circumvented a Crawler thrashing in circles with another Scraegan on its back, pummelling away with a heavy mace.

Brackenshaw dove past them, wriggling the skiff upwards along the narrow arêtes of rock that served as their path. A flash of heat vaporised a chunk of the terrain just ahead, and she only just swerved around it, leaning dangerously to her left. The others followed her line exactly, sweeping in an awkward dip below the edge of their route. Dust and grit spewed into the air from the engine backwash as they regained their balance.

She risked a glance back over her shoulder, and saw the Scraegans causing utter havoc. Big, veteran warriors led by the fearsome presence of Grunn-Rut-Rut, they were tearing the slope to pieces with reckless abandon. But they were outnumbered. Beyond the Scraegan pack, she saw that several of the Crawlers, and two alien herders, had broken free of the killing to give chase.

Everflowing but those things could climb. Their big limbs bit into the rocks of the mountain, dragging themselves upward. The aliens following close behind seemed sure-footed on the uneven surface, their bulk distributed across their multiple legs with ease.

The skiffs slalomed wildly in an evasive pattern, dodging the incendiary blasts from their foes. She could feel the heat sizzling in the air.

"Locke, drop some flares!" she ordered.

"Last batch, ma'am," her comrade warned.

"Understood, now drop 'em corporal!"

"Yes, ma'am. Launching."

She heard the thump of the flares discharging and flicked her gaze back for an instant. Lights blasted across the ridge, right across the line of Crawlers, smoke trails arcing from the rear of Corporal Locke's skiff.

There was a flash; then a scream.

"LOCKE!"

"Still here," the woman sobbed. "B-b-b-bastard singed me." She heaved in a retching breath over the comm. "S-still got my fireworks... Lieutenant."

Looking back, Brackenshaw saw her comrade's skiff faltering, its engines misfiring, its right side leaking smoke. Much like its unfortunate pilot. Locke's right arm and leg were smouldering. After a few seconds, she somehow managed to regain control of the damaged vehicle, closing the distance between them again. Further back, the alien that had taken a shot at her found itself set upon by two Grunn and one of his comrades who had given chase, flailing and battering at the alien from behind.

Buying time. Just a little more time.

"Keep going!" Brackenshaw yelled. "All the way to the top. Ready breaching charges!"

"Copy, copy!" Hynan barked. "We're almost there!"

Lowering her head again, Brackenshaw put everything else out of her mind, focusing just on the route ahead. She could see the way the ridge-top tapered upward to a tip. The thunderous vibrations of their pursuers rang in her ears, and she saw more snaps of heat melt through the rock around them as they zigged and zagged upwards.

Then, maybe a hundred meters from their prize, she saw it: the tiniest glint of metal visible at its apex.

That little twinkle ignited a fresh resolve in her belly. Until now she'd sustained herself on military discipline coupled with a healthy portion of faith – faith that this spire really was here, beneath the rock.

The metal wink was all she needed.

"Marder, Hynan, breaching," Brackenshaw planted. "You got eyes on target?"

"I see it," Hynan confirmed. His skiff pulled level, Marder sweeping up the other side.

"You still with us, Locke?" she barked.

"Still swimming, ma'am."

"Then get those fireworks ready."

"Charges primed," Hynan said as they swept up to the summit. "Firing."

"Firing," Marder echoed.

The two skiffs snaked ahead, their specially fitted front launchers belching out a string of mines into the rock face. Smaller versions of the ones carried by the scout skiffs, they operated on the same principle, their toothed edges whirring viciously to drag them down into the ground, before they exploded.

Pulverised rock spewed in all directions, clanging off Brackenshaw's blast shield, but there was no time for safety now. The six Crawlers led by an alien were still close behind, clambering after them with fervent energy, like they knew what was about to happen.

"Locke!" she bellowed through the hail of smashed earth. "Let's do this."

"On your lead."

Sweeping through the dust and the dirt, Brackenshaw squinted through her goggles, until she spotted the glint of the black stone-metal of the tower exterior. Here at the top, where the walls were thinnest, the Blackwaters and engineers had picked as their target. Ordinarily the charges they'd brought with them could have cleared half a canyon, but apparently that was what they needed to put a dent in this thing.

That was the grand plan, when it came down to it. Blow the lid off the top of this mountain, and take the signal antennae with it. She could dimly hear the din of combat from further down the slope, but Grunn and the Scraegans couldn't help them now. It was up to her to finish this.

"Hynan, Marder, run interference. I need two minutes!"

"Copy that."

The other two skiffs wheeled away, back towards the fast encroaching group of Crawlers and the one remaining alien that had clambered its way this high. Flares blasted into them in a long line, the blinding lights slowing and staggering the beasts.

Brackenshaw dove through the dust with Locke at her back. Her goggles gut through the dust and grit to reveal the darkness of the stone-metal – their target. The initial breaching charges had scratched up the surface, and cleared her a path.

"Set the charges and then bug out," Brackenshaw shouted. "No heroics, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am!" Locke answered, her voice tight with pain as they slewed wildly to a halt. Brackenshaw pivoted off the side of her skiff and dragged the sealed case off of its rear carry platform. It looked like just a bulky briefcase, but inside she knew it was a very different story.

Locke dismounted a few meters away, one arm held gingerly to her side as she ripped her own case free and skidded down the slope of smashed rock, until she reached the side of the structure.

Brackenshaw thudded into it shoulder first, and she pressed her palm over the case's DNA lock. It sprang open – no time to screw around with codes or biometrics. Or extra safety features. Inside were three disc-shaped bombs; matt-black and each one the size of a human head, alongside a detonator.

"C'mon, c'mon," she hissed to herself as she yanked the first one free.

As she placed it against the side of the black monolith, she felt the surge of heat. Her ears popped; the comm cracked with the beginnings of a warning cry. An instant later Marder's signal on her HUD vanished.

"Everflowing bloody River!" Hynan roared. "Kaydie, hurry. That bastard just smoked Marder and I-,"

A horrible grinding smash filled the comm.

"HYNAN?!" She couldn't risk turning to look. She just didn't have the time. Her heart smashed against her ribs as she slammed the second charge into place.

"Blow ... the lid," he rasped back. Then another blast shook the ridge-top.

Brackenshaw pitched forward, her helmet slamming off the solid black surface with a crack. Fresh smoke belched over her and she scrambled to keep her footing, bracing herself against the tower as she looked back.

Crawler limbs littered the ground amongst the smoke, and she could see two of their hulking carcasses, broken and leaking. Hynan had blown one of his charges, right on top of them.

"Keep working," she spluttered to Locke.

"Y-yes, ma'am," her comrade choked out.

The third charge came free of the case, and she jammed it into place, keeping even spacing between them. It wasn't exact, but it needed to be close. Six charges, properly placed – that was what Kelso Vannigan told her.

"Locke?!"

"Charges set, ma'am. Let's... oh, Everflowing! Lieutenant!"

Brackenshaw armed the last of her charges, fear crackling up her spine at the sound of Locke's scream. Grabbing the detonator, she whirled around, and saw the towering shadow of the alien thumping forward out of the smoke.

It was leaking fluid from a rent in its front armour, the sheer force of the ordnance enough to dent even those formidable defences. Its weapon, however, was very much intact. Brackenshaw's free hand went for the flare gun jammed into her combat vest.

"Break for it!" she shouted, raising the gun and firing a flare right at the creature's head, even as she started sprinting for her skiff.

The huge insectoid ducked. All its limbs folded downward, collapsing inward to drop its bulky and head out of the path of the flare. It screamed harmlessly overhead, but Brackenshaw kept running.

She was two meters from her skiff when the heat-gun flashed again and blew the vehicle to pieces.

The force of the explosion hurled her backwards. She hit the ground; something in her shoulder cracked and agony shot through her as she rolled, until she slammed side-on against the base of the black wall. Her comm shattered; she heard the crack and snarl of the earpiece as it broke apart, the side of her helmet whacking against the unyielding dark material.

Without the helmet she'd have been killed on the spot.

Wheezing for breath, Brackenshaw heaved herself into a sitting position, scrabbling frantically in the dirt for the detonator until her left hand closed around it.

Then a shadow fell across her.

She looked up.

The alien stood there, as though a demon had walked right up out of the depths to confront her, wreathed in smoke and blood, its head section appraising her grimly. A string of ticking sounds spilled from its mouth orifice that made her ears throb. Swallowing hard, Brackenshaw spat blood onto the sand and looked right back at it.

"See you down the River, you ugly bastard!" she screamed.

Then she pressed the detonator and the charges exploded.

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