"The main nest occupies a cavern nearly two hundred yards in diameter," Kelso said, sweeping a hand over the three-dimensional display. "From our recon we've identified several tunnels feeding into it, but our main focus will be on the three points of ingress on the north-east edge."

Three red circles blinked into existence on the map display. Ryke leaned back in his seat, folded his arms tight and stared at his brother, not knowing what to think. The briefing room at the forward command base was packed with soldiers: thirty Hunter-Killer pilots, Scout Cadre soldiers, mobile infantry officers and senior combat engineers.

It had been a while since he'd seen his brother. After the siege of Brekka their paths had diverged, Ryke plunging deeper into the martial prowess of the Hunter-Killers while Kelso slipped into the shadows of the elusive combat support specialists. Most of them started out as coordinators, traffic controllers for the chain of command, but once you'd cut your teeth passing radio messages and fetching scorch beer, you got into the real job.

Ryke wasn't a hundred percent sure who the specialists actually answered to in the Brekkan hierarchy. Colonel Hackley, if he had to guess, but they seemed to appear and disappear as they pleased.

Something to sort out over a couple of scorch beers, he decided, trying to refocus on the briefing.

"The number of crawlers inside the chamber numbered in the region of two hundred, though a precise count is impossible at this stage," Kelso continued. "So it seems safe to assume this is a major population centre. Nothing like these numbers has been reported before. Attacks on our western positions, including Ozzmar, likely originated from this nest."

"Crawlers?" Thaye whispered, an amused smirk turning the corners of her mouth.

"We've gotta call them something," Preese replied from Ryke's opposite shoulder as Kelso carried on.

Although it had barely been seventy-two hours since his descent into the Scraegan warrens, it felt like weeks had passed. In his absence the human commanders had been very, very busy. The results of his foray hadn't become apparent until he'd trudged his way back to the safety of the human lines.

The sporadic skirmishing that had lingered from east to west along the battlefront had finally come to a halt. Both sides now squatted uneasily within firing range of one and other, but the guns remained muzzled for the moment. He didn't think any kind of lasting peace would come of it, but it appeared right now that both the humans and Scraegans had a common enemy. That, coupled with Brackenshaw's flight into the depths beneath the badlands meant that now the human army was girding up for a different kind of war.

"Our objective is simple," Kelso said, keying a fresh command into the control lectern in front of him. "We're going to take a retrofitted, quad-yield atomic mine to the centre of this nest, and detonate it."

That sent a murmur of consternation through the assembled soldiers. A hand shot up from one of the scout cadre soldiers.

Kelso nodded to the man. "Yes?"

"Sir, if that's all we have to do, what's with the strike force?" the scout asked uneasily. "Why don't we just strap this mine to one of your fancy new skimmers and send it in that way?"

"A skiff would never make it to the centre of the chamber without being detected," Ryke's brother replied smoothly. "And they have no combat capabilities beyond being a distraction. You would never make it. More importantly, though, the bomb's too big. It wouldn't fit."

He tapped another holographic key and a blossoming orange sphere flared up on the screen behind him from the middle of Crawler cavern. Ryke pressed his lips hard together and sank deeper into his seat as he watched the blast radius expand far beyond the nest itself. Kelso and his friends were not screwing around.

"This is the largest piece of single ordinance deployed by our armed forces. Even this deep underground it will have a kill radius of nearly a thousand meters and the shockwave will collapse any tunnels within ten kilometers of the blast." A thin smile crossed Kelso's face and he stepped aside from the lectern, gesturing to Colonel Harcourt who lurked a few paces back. "Colonel?"

"Thank you, specialist," Harcourt rumbled. The big man stepped forward decisively, gripping the edges of the lectern with both hands as he scanned the assembled soldiers. "All of you, here and now, will be part of our first strike against these abominations. Until they are neutralised we cannot deal with the Scraegan threat, so this is now our utmost priority."

Harcourt lifted on hand and tapped out a series of positions on the lectern screen. The motions were replicated on the massive screen behind him, showing blue blocks that denoted human positions outside the glaring circle of red that marked out the Crawler nest.

"I will be taking personal command of his operation," Harcourt declared. "We will go in, we will escort the bomb to its target location, and then withdraw to a safe distance whereupon Specialist Vannigan will issue remote detonation. In a single stroke we will remove this new threat, and take a great step forward in ensuring the future of our humanity on this planet."

He looked like he wanted applause, but instead, an uneasy quiet simmered in the air. Ryke let his metal jaw loll from side to side watching and waiting, seeing a distinctly aggravated twitch at the corner of Harcourt's mouth. The man could make all the sweeping statements he wanted, but that didn't mean Ryke wanted to follow his orders in a live combat situation. Sometimes Ryke forgot the man did know how to pilot a Hunter-Killer. He'd never seen the colonel's unit in action himself – he had nothing in his mind to feel confident about.

"Your Hunter-Killer squadrons will be dispatched via Mammoth," Harcourt continued gruffly. "You will be escorted to the target zone by Scout Cadre platoons and an armoured detachment under Captain Brendle." Lines seared across the maps of Rychter behind him, showing a zig-zagging, looping trail through the badlands towards the Crawler hole.

He glanced in the direction Harcourt had nodded and found a gangly, shark-featured man lounging easily among some of the other northern soldiers, the four interlocking squares on the shoulder of his uniform marking out his rank. Brendle gave a salute, but his face barely flickered.

"On arrival Hunter-Killers will deploy while Scout units infiltrate the tunnels and confirm the enemy presence by visual identification." The map zoomed in to show the tangle of tunnels beneath the Scraegan warren once more. More lines spilled into the dark underground veins to show the route the scouts would traverse. "Once contact is confirmed Scout Cadre platoons and armoured units will form a defensive cordon around the deployment zone and ensure our withdrawal path remains clear. The Hunter-Killers will then advance into the chamber.

"A refitted cargo skiff will carry the bomb to its target. Our job is to clear the way. We will attack from all three north eastern entrances. We strike with maximum force – do not conserve your ammunition. If this descends into a protracted fight the operation will have already failed. Our only job is to cut a path through the hostile targets to the centre of the cavern. The bomb will be embedded, wired for detonation, and then we will withdraw in good order. Once we have reached minimum safe distance the bomb will be detonated."

Harcourt's eyes narrowed as he stared down at them. "Make no mistake, all of you. These creatures are not like Scraegans – they are much tougher. You've all studied the tapes of our first contact. Their carapaces are resistant to armour-piercing shells at anything over twenty meters, and their only true vulnerable spot is their underside. Hunter-Killers are not designed to kill these things, and that is not your job on this mission. Do you understand?"

A mumble of assent passed through the Hunter-Killer pilots, and Ryke couldn't help but share their disgruntled feelings. Being trained in the Hunter-Killer Corps made you feel invincible, like an apex predator in a feral world. None of them liked the idea of a creature their machines couldn't handle.

Ryke had seen it first-hand though and had to concede Harcourt's point. In a stand-up fight, fifty Hunter-Killers against two hundred of those creatures wouldn't stand a chance. He just hoped the element of surprise would be enough for them to get the job done.

"This will be dangerous," the colonel told them. "And I'm not going to lie to you. We anticipate casualties, but to stop these creatures it is a price worth paying. Are there any questions?"

No one spoke. Ryke frowned and folded his arms. His jaw ached dully.

"Very well." Harcourt straightened up with a stiff nod. "We deploy at 0400. Get some rest. Dismissed."

A shuffle of limbs and creaking seats filled the air as the soldiers clambered to their feet, jostling for position to file out of the briefing room. The door opened and the clamour of the forward base's operation spilled in on them.

Ryke stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets, still frowning. The rest of HK-Rupture coalesced around him as they joined the murmuring crush of individuals making their way out. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important was missing from Harcourt's briefing. Thaye pulled level with him, discomfort etched on her face.

"That's a scorched face," Preese murmured, giving her a nudge. "Y'alright, pilot?"

"I don't like it."

"Don't like what?"

"The plan."

"You?" Brigg interjected from further back. "Thought you were the queen scrapper of the wastelands?"

Thaye shot a black look over her shoulder. "Yeah, that's me, bloodthirsty little refugee."

"Hey, I didn't mean-,"

"Thaye," Ryke cut in. "What's the problem?"

"Feels like we're just knee-jerking boss. Swinging in the dark." She shook her head. "It's like the first target they've got and they want to throw everything at it, like they've got something to prove."

"You know what happened to Ozzmar," he replied. "Harcourt might be an ass, but he's not wrong. We need to neutralise that nest."

"We don't know enough. We don't know if blasting that place to cinders will even matter." She looked at him suddenly, her eyes hard as iron. "Brackenshaw said they saw eggs in there, right?"

He nodded uneasily. "That's right."

"Well, am I the only one wondering about what laid them?"

*

Being back inside a Mammoth again didn't make Ryke feel terribly safe. All he could think of was the wall caving in under the impact of the Scraegan fire, the metal and flame wiping one of his pilots from existence before the man had a chance to defend himself. The unfairness of it all still wrenched at him.

He tried to occupy his mind by thinking about the operation at hand, but there wasn't much comfort to be had there either. Normally a force of fifty Hunter-Killers would have filled him with confidence, but knowing that more than two hundred of the arthropod monsters awaited them in the depths dented his calm somewhat. Two-thirds of the pilots here had yet to come face to face with the things. They didn't know just how powerful and dangerous their new foes truly were.

In the end he just scowled to himself and settled down to wait. No sense questioning things now. Soon their first fully-fledged combat operation against the creatures would be underway, and Rychter's colonists would find out the measure of this latest threat.

The deck rattled beneath him as the great beast trundled its way south-west towards the arthropod next, screened by a veritable wall of Scout Cadre skiffs. Brackenshaw was out there somewhere, and Ryke found himself feeling a little uncomfortable that she wasn't the one giving the orders this time. Over the short, intense campaign into Rychter's southern regions he'd gotten used to having her around.

For this battle, he would be taking his orders directly for Harcourt, and his stomach turned at the thought of it. As well as Colonel Harcourt's HK-Ferocci, they would be joined by a squad of Brekkan veterans – HK-Bandit – another unit from Rubicon, HK-Gladiai, and Sergeant Charpente's HK-Praxis. He was happy to have Charpente along for the ride, and he'd fought alongside the lieutenant that commanded HK-Bandit during the Brekkan siege. That left two squadrons from the north that he did not know or trust.

Ryke knew that kind of thinking was dangerous, but the unfolding of the new war had done little to allay the fears that he and many other Brekkan pilots felt about their untested comrades. Qadira had earned herself a pass so far, because of what he'd seen – of what he could quantify through the brutal science of combat.

"Drown me," he muttered to himself, shifting inside the cockpit. He hated waiting like this. He'd hoped to see Ivy before they shipped out, but she was nowhere to be found in the medical wing and the tech who'd run his combat checks didn't know where she was either. Her armourer's platoon had been redeployed already. It left him feeling like he'd left something crucial behind, and it was too late to go back and get it.

"Caesar to all units," Harcourt's voice came grating through the wide-band, jerking him from his thoughts. He straightened up inside the Hunter-Killer; eased his neck from side to side. "We are approaching deployment zone. ETA fifteen minutes. No activity reported from advance units. All Hunter-Killers, check for combat readiness and prepare to deploy."

"Lockjaw – Caesar, acknowledged," Ryke replied firmly when his turn came. He switched to the squad wide. "Alright, you don't need told twice, ladies and gents."

"Can you believe this guy?" Mayder Ricardo chimed in, fighting to keep outright laughter from spilling over the comm.

"Something you don't like, Rabbit?" Ryke replied with the kid's newly acquired callsign.

"It's just... I mean 'Caesar', really?"

"I don't follow."

"Old Earth history, boss," Preese interjected.

Koral chuckled, "And here I thought we joined the army?"

"Julius Caesar," the squad's second-in-command continued undeterred. "Ran some big racket a few thousand years back upriver."

"He ruled the Roman Empire," Qadira snapped. "One of the largest and most successful civilisations that existed at the time. It wasn't a 'racket'."

"Guy was a legend on old Earth," Mayder agreed. "But what's the good colonel done to earn that name do you think?"

"Maybe it's just aspirational," Ryke muttered. "But we're not out here for a history lesson. If it bothers you, you can tell Harcourt yourself when we get home."

"Err ... I guess I can learn to live with it."

"Run your checks, soldier."

"Yes, sir."

Ryke allowed himself a wry smile as he ran through his own combat checks. One by one the indicators checked off in the green, and he began to feel a little calmer. Memories of his long walk to the Scraegan line still haunted him. His mind kept circling back to the feeling of utter nakedness he'd felt, just facing the things in his skin, and he hated it. The armour and weapons of his mech felt like home, like the real Ryke Vannigan.

"Alright, everybody, sound off your checks when you're clear," he ordered. "Remember, we were the last ones in so we're the first ones out."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Thaye growled. Now that the fight was on the horizon whatever misgivings she had about the operation had melted away.

"Standard defensive deployment," Ryke continued. "Riots on me, Raptors kick your flanks and Goliaths on our six. Just because no-one's seen any nasties out there yet, that doesn't mean they aren't there. No surprises on our watch, folks."

The pilots of HK-Rupture reeled off their confirmations of readiness one by one, indicators showing green all across his HUD. He flexed his hands inside the gauntlets, feeling the massive metal fingers of the battle mech mirroring his motion, feeling the raw power of the reactor snarling in its armoured core, ready to unleash its fury.

It wasn't long before he felt the lurch. The Mammoth brought its bulk to a halt, and his Hunter-Killer jolted lightly in its cradle with a creak of metal, clamps around the waist holding him steady. He took a deep breath and exhaled long and slow, waiting for the call.

"Caesar – Lockjaw," Harcourt rumbled. "On your lead."