Two days later the strike force rolled out from Ozzmar at first light. The twin suns of Rychter glowered over the horizon in a vast arc of red-orange, illuminating the dark silhouettes of the enormous Mammoth carrier and its entourage of armoured vehicles against the badlands. Dust and smoke kicked up in a long plume at the rear of the column and the low snarl of engines echoed in the morning air.

Ryke tried to relax in the Hunter-Killer cradle as the hours crawled by, going over the tactical reports that had reached them from the multi-pronged offensive now underway in Rychter's southern regions. The main army at Cresentscar had pressed out to drive the Scraegans from several locations south of the valley which held the town, setting up observation posts and scout patrols to cover the continued human advance.

Further east the force under the command of Major De Lunta had repulsed a Scraegan attack on Alldeep and driven several enemy packs away from the region to give the human forces more room to manoeuvre. Colonel Hackley's contingent had struck south, reclaiming a small quarrying complex in one of the badlands ragged, craggy outcrops to provide another advance base.

Despite these early successes, though, Ryke felt a little uneasy. They'd inflicted casualties on the Scraegans to be sure, but their enemies were giving as good as they received without absorbing any crippling losses. Just like at Ozzmar the bulk of the Scraegan forces withdrew before they could be destroyed, saving themselves for a counter offensive that was sure to come.

Llewellyn wanted to press the tempo of their advance nonetheless, hoping to prevent the Scraegans from regrouping. Ryke and his companions now rumbled across the searing openness of the badlands en route to link up with another, larger force commanded by Rubicon's Colonel Harcourt. Once they rendezvoused, the combined battle group would turn directly south, to what had once been the large town of Dushala, one of the biggest settlements that had felt the wrath of the Scraegans.

He understood the necessity of keeping the Scraegans on their heels, but Ryke still didn't like it. They hadn't had time to reinforce from the Ozzmar engagement, so all three Hunter-Killer squadrons would be deploying under strength. Brackenshaw's contingent were down four skiffs, and the armoured companies were fighting at two thirds of their full strength. It felt too quick, like the northern officers orchestrating this assault were desperate for a knock out blow after just a few days.

Ryke tried to distract himself with the tactical assessments of the army's progress, his last conversation with Ivy still gnawing at him.

Genocide.

The word rolled around his mind accusingly. Wiping out a whole species was as wrong an act as could be conceived, but every time he felt even a breath of hesitation his thoughts filled with the memories of all the hurt and hate the Scraegans had caused. He thought of home – of Rukker's Quarry – a simple town obliterated by the Scraegans when he was barely ten years old. He'd lost his parents that day, leaving him and his older brother Kelso to escape the carnage.

They were relocated to Brekka with vengeance in their hearts. Kelso now served as an analyst and support officer, while Ryke took to the front lines. The day they'd lost everything was as raw now as it ever was. He remembered the fire, the acrid stink of the furnace cannons and the screams; remembered the looming massiveness of the Scraegan Alpha that had thundered by his hiding place.

Those memories stopped him from meeting Ivy halfway.

"Are we there yet?" Kim drawled, her voice dragging him from his thoughts. Her Raptor's entire right side gleamed with fresh bodywork where Ivy's comrades had repaired the torched plating and damaged gyros.

"Still one hour and forty from our rendezvous, Haunter," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the impact cushioning cradle of the Hunter-Killer.

"By the Everflowing, this thing crawls."

"Maybe you should get out and push?" Brody cut in wryly. A few chuckles scattered down the comm link.

"Uh-oh," Brigg laughed. "Looks like newbie's finding his fighting legs, huh?"

"Keep in up, tough guy," Kim shot back. "If anyone could give us a push, it's that monster you're piloting. My baby's a dancer, not a bruiser."

"Hey now, my mech might not be a dancer, but I sure am."

"That I have to see."

Brody's voice took on a mischievous air. "Be happy to show you some steps, Haunter."

"Norv, you bring your wavesinger?" Preese interjected. "Might need to settle this after our next bust up."

The veteran pilot chuckled. "Sorry – not much space in here for musical instruments folks. I'll have to improvise."

Ryke was halfway through a smile when a sudden bang shook the Mammoth from end to end. His Hunter-Killer rocked in its cradle and an alarm blurted a warning as he almost tore loose from the clamps. His instincts kicked in and he slotted his hands into the feedback gauntlets, sticking out a leg to brace the Hunter-Killer against the decking.

"What in the Everflowing was that?!" Marylee exclaimed.

"Blast impact," Thaye replied quickly, though her voice was tight with confusion. "Something hit us."

Another impact struck the vehicle's armoured hide, sending fresh shudders through their bodies. Ryke felt the swing as the Mammoth began to turn. Then he heard the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of the mounted cannons on the vehicle's exterior. His eyes widened.

"SC-21 to all units, I repeat all units!" It was Brackenshaw, her voice shrill with urgency. "We have been engaged! Scraegan packs on both flanks! Recommend full defensive posture immediately!"

Ryke could hear the clamour of orders being shouted in the background of the transmission. He heard the muffled thunder of gunfire outside the Mammoth and quickly spun up his mech's HUD display. His stomach lurched in fear as he saw a blaze of red indicators flashing into existence on either side of the strike force. Caught out in the open in the badlands they were easy targets. Allied indicators started to vanish off the display with horrific rapidity.

It was an ambush.

He waited but no other messages came through his comm link from Lieutenant Miquelon. The Mammoth rocked again and the thunder of guns intensified beyond the walls.

"AC-8 – Kaber," a panic-filled voice Ryke didn't recognise exploded over the wideband. "2nd Lieutenant Gaul, now in acting command! Lieutenant Holze is KIA. We need Hunter-Killer support! Riverlords they're all around us!" His transmission broke off for an instant, overwhelmed by the boom of a cannon shot. "I repeat, we need Hunter-Killers out here NOW!"

"Lockjaw – Kaber!" Ryke barked urgently. "You heard the man. We need to get out there!"

Before any response could come, an impact for bigger than any others smashed into their transport. The superstructure groaned under the tremendous force and the Mammoth lurched violently.

Then a whole section of the thick metal wall exploded inwards.

A half-scream ripped over the comm before being cut off sharply. Ryke's eyes flashed to the HUD and horror filled him when he saw a the crimson blare of a critical damage indicator completely envelope Norville's mech. He twisted to look; the Hunter-Killer's sphere of a head swivelled. He found a smoking crater in the flank of the Mammoth where the reinforced armour plates had caved in, right behind his squad mate.

Ryke felt his heart sinking as he realised the pilot was already dead. The entire right shoulder of the Hunter-Killer had been shorn off at the joint, but far worse than that were the huge hunks of bent metal that pierced it from behind, exploding through the chest plate and a spray of blood and mangled systems. Flames licked hungrily at the machine's carcass and static fizzled on the comm.

"Sprocket is KIA," blurted Koral after an instant of stunned silence, her voice shrill with shock. Locked in the bay alongside their comrade, she'd been only a few feet from suffering the same fate. "Everflowing... he's gone, sarge!"

Rage boiled up inside him at the words. Norville Bankspur had been a veteran before Ryke even joined the Hunter-Killers. He'd deserved to go out fighting, not be snuffed out by a sucker punch. The injustice of it clawed at his guts and he felt a throb of pain in his jaw.

He opened the comm to the wideband, to Miquelon and the Mammoth operators.

"Unlock, unlock!" he bellowed. "Pissing Rivers, we're target practice in here. Unlock the cradles and open the doors now!" There was a moment of silence, and Ryke felt a horrible sense of helplessness. If the Mammoth's operators were dead the Hunter-Killers would be trapped, locked into their docking cradles.

"Copy, HK-Rupture, unlocking all cradles," rasped a voice a few seconds later. It wasn't Miquelon – it must have been the Mammoth's driver, still alive for now at least.

Ryke exhaled a huge sigh of relief when he saw the Mammoth's ramp begin to descend. The clamp around his waist unlatched and he wrenched himself loose. The rest of the squad followed in an ungainly, scrambling mass, getting away from the walls as quickly as they could. Another section of armour blew apart on the deck above them.

"HK-Rupture, on my lead," he barked as he led his pilots to the lowering ramp. "Lockjaw-Kaber, do you copy?"

He waited, but Miquelon still did not speak. He looked up in confusion. Smoke coiled around them, but the upper reaches of the Mammoth looked mostly intact and there was nothing on the HUD to indicate any casualties among Miquelon's squadron.

"Lockjaw!" Brigg's voice snapped over the comm. "Loading ramp's jammed – hydraulics must've been damaged."

His attention was wrenched violently back to the bottom level. He focused the Hunter-Killer's forward optics and saw that the massive loading ramp had lowered halfway before jamming in place. Steam screeched from the pistons on the left and right, mingling with the dust and grit that swirled in the aperture. He cursed inwardly. Hunter-Killers could be surprisingly nimble if they had to be, but the opening wasn't even wide enough for them to climb out.

"Lieutenant Miquelon!" Ryke bellowed. "Answer me, damn it, people are dying out there!" He gave it a couple of seconds but there seemed to be no reply forthcoming. Maybe the bastard was panicking; maybe he was dead. Ryke no longer cared. He wasn't about to die on this patch of worthless sand.

"To the River with this," he spat. "Avalanche, Mallet, blow that door off its damn hinges! Lockjaw-Sharps, you read me?"

"C-copy, Lockjaw," Charpente stuttered back. At least she was alive and talking.

"Get to the lower level and follow us out. We'll swing left, you swing right. See if we can carve some space for the tanks to do some damage. If any pilots in HK-Strident are hearing me right now, get yourselves out of this Mammoth before the Scraegans blow it to pieces."

"You do not give me orders, Sergeant Vannigan!" Miquelon suddenly blurted through the comm, his voice hoarse as he babbled. "Y-you will... you and HK-Praxis will deploy and form a... a defensive perimeter around the Mammoth."

"Sir, the Mammoth is lost."

"Hell with this guy," Thaye spat. "He's going to get us all killed, Ryke."

There was a break in the comm chatter as the two Goliaths manoeuvred into position. The pilots took aim at the immense hydraulic pistons holding the slab of metal and fired simultaneously, the blast of their heavy cannons threatening to overwhelm the Hunter-Killer audio filters in such a confined space.

The pistons were blown to smithereens and the loading ramp fell outward, smashing to the ground outside with a thunderous bang.

"We are heading out. Sharps, you with me?"

"I..." A precious second of hesitation yawned out achingly in the static before Charpente made up her mind. "Copy, Lockjaw. On your lead."

"Sergeant Charpente – belay those orders! You will form a defensive perimeter around the Mammoth!"

"Shut up, sir," Ryke growled. "Sharps, follow me out. Anyone else who doesn't want to go down with the ship, you're welcome to join us."

He ignored the resultant tirade from Miquelon, focusing his attention on the HUD as the Scraegans continued to close in. The mechs from HK-Praxis loosed from their cradles and descended into the belly of the Mammoth behind them. More of the enormous impacts blew gaping wounds in its flanks. He saw one of the indicators from HK-Strident vanish as its pilot was caught in a blast.

Ryke led his squad out of the smoking husk of their transport into a fresh kind of hell. Scraegans were bursting from the sand all around them, furnace cannons screaming as they fired. Bolts of blue hellfire tore great furrows in the ground, blasting vehicles end over end and immolating soldiers who spilled from wounded vehicles. A smog of vaporised dirt and rock filled the air on all sides and on the HUD he could see they were surrounded by more than sixty Scraegans.

Gritting his teeth, he traversed his mech to the left flank and started running, pulling his Hunter-Killers with him in a skirmish line. Charpente's mechs hurtled in the opposite direction.

"Lockjaw – AC-8," Ryke shouted to the armour commander. "This is Sergeant Vannigan, HK-Rupture. We are deployed and closing. Consolidate your vehicles in the centre and we'll buy you some space to work with – copy?"

"Copy that, Lockjaw," Lieutenant Gaul yelped back. On the HUD those tanks and armoured vehicles that remained began reversing away from the frontline combat, treads and balloon wheels churning up earth and grit as they moved. As the vulnerable heavy weapons dragged themselves backwards, Ryke and his troops hit the encroaching Scraegan line head on.

He bellowed with rage as his cannon chewed into the closest enemy soldier. The Riot mechs surged forward with Thaye leading the charge, launching herself ferociously from Scraegan to Scraegan, blasting, hacking and bludgeoning with every inch of her Hunter-Killer. In her lonely Raptor mech, Kim Lassange wove through the line, chopping at legs and drawing fire.

On the opposite flank he saw Charpente's troops pressing to drive the Scraegans back, and he was relieved to see that five members of HK-Strident had ignored whatever orders Miquelon thought he was giving and spilled out of the Mammoth to join them. A brutal melee ensued on both flanks as the Hunter-Killers' desperate counter-charge stopped the Scraegans from slamming their trap shut on the vulnerable armour units.

Ryke knew they need to time this to perfection. He crushed a fist against a charging Scraegan's jaw, lurching sideways to avoid the murderous swipe of its barbed club. Ducking low, he dodged the reverse swing and pushed hard with both legs, rocketing forward and smashing his shoulder shield hard into the monster's face. It stumbled and crashed to the ground, rolling away from him with a snarl of anger.

He glanced at the HUD.

"HK-Rupture, pull back!" he barked. "Lockjaw – AC-8, give 'em everything you've got!"

"Roger that," Gaul replied, his voice still shaking as he tried to keep his composure.

The Hunter-Killers melted back from the Scraegan line in good order, having bought their comrades a few precious moments to reposition into a bristling defensive line with heavy weapons pointed at both sides of the Scraegan attack.

With time to set and aim, the surviving Rubicon tanks and self-propelled guns showed their worth as they fired, unleashing a brutal salvo in both directions at once. Scraegans ducked and burrowed for cover, their huge bodies churning into the dirt as shells exploded amongst them. The momentum of the flanking action was deadened further and Ryke found himself with an instant to breathe.

"Lockjaw-Kaber," he snapped into the comm. "You need to get out of the Mammoth right now!"

"I'll have you strung up for insubordination for this, Vannigan!" Miquelon raged back, but Ryke could hear the crack in the man's voice. He'd lost control, of himself as well as the battle. "May the Riverlords drown you before you reach the Everflowing. I'll-,"

The comm cut out as something huge and bright screamed over the top of Ryke's Hunter-Killer

Heat alarms blasted through his internal speakers for an instant as whatever it was passed within a meter of the head section. Confusion reigned as he swivelled to follow the trajectory of the thing. A vast, crackling bolt of white-hot energy burned a path over the melee and entered the stricken Mammoth carrier through one of its gaping wounds.

Then it exploded. A whole section of the Mammoth's upper deck blew apart, sending huge chunks of half-melted armour hurtling skywards. Flames licked out from the impact point and in a matter of seconds the whole top half of the huge vehicle was turned into a raging inferno. On the HUD he saw the indicators of Miquelon and the few pilots who'd stayed with him glitch into nothingness.

"Lieutenant!" he gasped. "Lieutenant Miquelon!"

Static answered him.

Ryke spun away with a curse, knowing with certainty that there was nothing he could do for those inside the carrier now. With the cold chill of fear prickling his spine, he looked for the source of the blast. It took him a moment of scanning the enemy line until he saw it, skulking behind the staggered advance of the Scraegan packs.

It looked like a furnace cannon but much larger, mounted on four squat legs with a barrel twice as wide and three times as long as the ones carried by the Scraegan warriors. Wreathes of superheated smoke sloughed from its glowing maw as it charged up. A trio of enemy warriors piloted the thing – one at the rear and one to each side, pushing to aim the massive weapon left and right.

"Lockjaw, you see that?" Preese blurted.

"I see it!" he shouted back. "Haunter, Gutz, Deadbolt – on my lead. Let's take that thing out!"

In seconds the three mechs fell into line behind him as he charged once more, picking out a narrow gap in the Scraegan line as they scattered, Gaul's tanks frantically pumping out shells as though their lives depended on it.

Ryke sprayed a burst of armour piercing rounds into the furnace cannon of an enemy that barred his path, and the half-charged weapon sputtered and died, sparking and coughing clouds of acrid smoke. The Scraegan snarled in frustration and swung the damaged weapon like a club. Lashed to the beasts enormous forearm, even damaged the furnace cannon's barrel was a hunk of metal more than capable of smashing an unprotected human to pulp.

He took the blow on his shield, twisting with the momentum to send the Scaegan lurching forward into Preese's waiting hands. The other pilot grabbed the beast's head as it stumbled and yanked down hard, servos spewing steam from the effort as he smashed the Scraegan skull first into the ground.

They hurtled past the stricken warrior, cutting and shooting their way through a half dozen enemies that tried to halt their advance. Ryke grappled with another Scraegan, yanking it round into the path of a furnace shot destined for his mech. The resultant impact send both of them crashing to the ground and he twisted violently, punching and kicking to free himself from the smouldering, groaning creature.

Kim's Raptor mech appeared in his view and she took a firm grip of the Scraegan body, heaving it off of him with a yell of effort that speared through the comm link. Ryke scrambled upright to see the other two Hunter-Killers breaking for the cannon.

The huge weapon rotated as Preese and Marylee charged forward, the Scraegans barking orders to each other as they tried to aim before the humans could reach them. A searing white began glowing in the throat of the weapon as it charged.

"TAKE IT OUT!" Ryke bellowed as he lurched to follow them, Kim guarding his back as he moved. Preese took aim, but a Scraegan warrior lunged for him from his right, forcing him to pivot to defend himself.

Ahead of him Marylee barged her way free, her cannon whirling into life as she sighted on the cannon. A spray of armour piercing shots thudded from her gun.

Only for one of the Scraegan crew to release its hold and step into the path of the shells. It bellowed defiantly as more than ten rounds found their mark, ripping into flesh and bone and spraying black ichor across the badlands from the wounds. Marylee didn't break stride, holding tight and thumping more shots into the beast as she charged. Ryke saw the blink of amber, then red on her mech's diagnostic as the gun began to overheat from the sustained firing.

"Gutz, you're going to blow your cannon!" he shouted.

"I know, sarge!" She clung on, still pounding the Scraegan with armour piercing shells until its whole body was ravaged with bloody gouges. It staggered drunkenly, still trying to keep itself between her and the weapon. Ryke cursed as he saw his squadmate's cannon jam, the barrels finally seizing up from the heat of sustained fire.

Still she didn't stop. Her bellow of anger tore across the comm as she lowered her shoulder and rammed her shield into the half-dead Scraegan, sending it toppling backwards like a felled tree. Marylee planted on metal boot onto its body, using it as a springboard to hurl herself forward the final few meters.

She was an instant too late.

The cannon fired, the shot striking Marylee's mech at point blank range as she hurled herself at it. Her scream cut across the comm for a shrill instant before the link went dead and the supercharged furnace shot detonated.

The Hunter-Killer's entire fifteen ton bulk was blown backwards end over end in a mess of ruined metal, but the backwash did even more damage. The gun itself swallowed a gout of flame from the explosion and blew apart as its internal mechanisms overloaded. The two remaining Scraegans crewing it were killed instantly, their bodies ripped to pieces by the resultant blizzard of searing hot shrapnel.

"Gutz," he heard Preese stammer in shock. Ryke swallowed hard, unable to stop himself from looking at the burning wreck of Marylee's Hunter-Killer. The whole front section of armour had been simply vaporized, and the sharp optics of his mech could pick out the blackened limbs jutting unnaturally from the embers. Her comm was dead; her machine's indicator glazed with crimson.

Fighting down the urge to vomit, Ryke tore his eyes away.

"Fall back," he rasped. "Fall back to defensive positions."

"SC-21 to all units," Sergeant Brackenshaw shouted suddenly, her voice unyielding as an iron plate. "As senior combat officer I am assuming command of this task force. They're trying to surround us. All Hunter-Killers form up on my lead to the rear of the task force, and on my signal we will punch a hole through the Scraegan line before they can encircle us. Lieutenant Gaul, have your people revved up and ready to follow us through and we'll lead you clear."

"Copy that, we'll be ready!" Gaul replied immediately, the officer clearly not willing to fight a second longer than he had to.

Ryke, however, felt differently. He'd already lost two pilots to the Scraegans today and every inch of him wanted to repay those casualties tenfold. He backed away towards the tank line with Kim and Preese on either side, snapping shots left and right as they went.

"Lockjaw – SC-21," he growled into the comm. "Are you saying we're running?"

"Yes, Sergeant Vannigan, that is exactly what we are doing."

"With all due respect, I am not about to-"

"We've all lost people today, Vannigan, but you can't win this!" Brackenshaw snarled over his objection. "If you do what I say right now, nobody else has to die out here. Think with your brain instead of your heart and get your Hunter-Killers formed up. That's an order!"

Ryke ground his teeth together angrily, smarting from the scout sergeant's rebuke. As he examined the HUD he still wasn't convinced that Brackenshaw's assessment was correct. They could stand and fight – they still had an effective fighting force to turn on the Scraegan trap if they had the will to do it.

But he knew any further discord in the human ranks could lead to an all out slaughter. Whatever plan they enacted now needed to be done together. Brackenshaw had made up her mind, and it was clear that Lieutenant Gaul had no more stomach for a fight. HK-Rupture couldn't win this on their own. With bitterness scratching in his veins, he relented, shaking his head in frustration.

"Copy that, SC-21. Lockjaw to all Hunter-Killers, form up on my lead. Give me a staggered double skirmish line." As he spoke he drove a foot into the shell-torn badlands and pivoted, turning to face the rear of the combat zone where the Scraegan jaws were closing in to cut them off.

The shell-shocked Hunter-Killers of HK-Praxis and those from HK-Strident that were still alive pulled in under his order, their indicators forming up on the HUD. As they moved he saw Brackenshaw's remaining scout skiffs hurtling into position in a screen in front of them.

"SC-21 – AC-8," Brackenshaw barked. "Form your boys up for advance, full throttle – heavies on your flanks and personnel carriers in the centre!"

"Forming up on your lead, SC-21."

"Lockjaw, you here?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, biting back his objections. "On your lead."

"Let's bust a hole."

The skiff engines flared like miniature suns and Brackenshaw's force screamed forward in a wedge of metal, fire blazing from their mounted guns as they raced for the rapidly narrowing escape route. With his metal jaw aching Ryke set off in pursuit, ramping up his Hunter-Killer's reactor to maximum and thundering across the badlands. Right behind them the surviving vehicles of the once vaunted Rubicon armour followed, hurling shells over the heads of their comrades to slow the Scraegans down.

Furnace cannon shots snapped at them every step of the way, and Ryke's contingent hit gap just as the Scraegans tried to close it on them. Only six enemy warriors actually managed to get directly in their path, and the charging Hunter-Killers smashed through them, peeling apart to the left and right to create a corridor of metal for Gaul's tanks to escape through.

The armoured column wasted no time. Dust billowed into the air as the vehicles raced past, crawlers, armoured personnel carriers, tanks and self-propelled guns gunning their engines at full force. He watched on his HUD, counting down the seconds as he hacked and blasted the Scraegans away from their escape route. At last the final vehicle limped through the doorway the Hunter-Killers had created and Ryke stepped backwards.

"Pull together, reverse ranks!" he roared. "HK-Praxis and Strident, fall back and rendezvous with Brackenshaw. HK-Rupture, defensive posture and pull back with suppressing fire on all angles."

The Hunter-Killers struggled free from the fighting, the elements of the 'wall' furthest behind pulling in to the centre to effectively close the door on the Scraegans and prevent them from chasing further. With their swiftly assembled ranks redrawn, the other two squads set off in pursuit of the dust cloud of the retreating armoured column.

The remaining mechs under Ryke's command pulled backwards in a rearguard, forming a semi-circle and firing on any Scraegans trying to give chase. It became quickly apparent, however, that their foes had little interest in hunting down the survivors of the battlegroup. They'd already won this fight. Once they were beyond a few hundred yards the Scraegans ignored them, pulling back to their prize.

Ryke could only watch.

Smoke climbed in a pyre, furnace cannons flashing as the Scraegans mopped up the handful of stragglers who had been unable to break free of the trap. The the massive carcass of the Mammoth burned on the horizon, a grim monument to the blow the human forces had just been dealt. Victory howls echoed long and loud across the badlands as what was left of the task force retreated with their tails between their legs, heading back towards the relative safety of Ozzmar.

With fury tearing at his guts and the taste of defeat on his tongue, Ryke had no choice but to turn and follow them.