Chapter 38 - Demons Should be Seen, and then Killed

The seismics were going berserk.

Brackenshaw felt a sense of awe as she examined the tactical display in the skiff's lower level, taking advantage of the brief lull in combat to try and get to grips with just what in the Everflowing was happening down here.

There were Scraegan readings all around them, forming a huge, blistering ring around the main thrust of the human army. She knew with a grim certainty that the Crawlers they currently bludgeoned their way through were just a small part of the swarm that infested the Labyrinth. Without the Scraegan warbands there would have been no chance of them even reaching this far.

And even now it was still hard going.

The Dreadnoughts and Scraegan elites had ploughed on ahead, massacring anything that got in their way as they escorted the bomb towards its destination, but the Crawlers were trying to cut them off. Groups of them broke through the Scraegan cordons to savage the convoy from all sides. Some of Vanyr's armoured companies had collapsed whole tunnel sections, even trapping themselves in with the Crawlers to keep the main thrust of the attack safe. Combat engineers detonated hastily deployed charges to slow down their foes, destroying the makeshift passages that the arthropods created with their churning bodies.

Casualties were rising. The battle map made for grim reading.

"Sarge, need a rotation!" Corporal Hynan yelled from the deck above. "Running dry up here."

With an effort, she pulled her gaze from the tactical display, placing a hand to her earpiece. "Copy that, we're on our way!"

Exhaling hard and taking a gulp of water, Brackenshaw nodded to the troopers around her and mounted the stairs again, racing up onto the skiff's deck to relive the soldiers who were burning through munitions at a horrendous rate.

With practised speed the scouts switched positions with those already at the firing rails. She thumped Hynan on the shoulder guard as she came up behind him and he didn't even look at her as he unlocked his rifle and bolted for the underdecks to resupply. Brackenshaw slotted into place and took aim.

The stock of her rifle whacked back against her shoulder as she fired, sending another armour piercing round crunching into the carapace of a Crawler. The thing snapped at her skiff as they whipped by, missing them, and opening the door for a Scraegan to emerge behind it with a furnace cannon charging. A white hot blast was quickly followed by a screech and the hiss of scorching flesh.

Another enemy down. She'd lost count of how many dead and dying Crawlers they'd left in their wake. The tunnels stank of gun smoke, the burnt scent of furnace cannons and the cloying fog of death. Fire licked the walls; carcasses of Scraegan, Crawler and human alike formed a grizzly pyre.

"AC-3 – Command, multiple hostiles on our flank," a grim male voice barked over the comm. "Turning to engage, but we need support. We're strung out."

"Copy that!" Hackley snapped. "SC-21, HK-Rupture, break off and redeploy to AC-3's position."

"Copy, on our way," Brackenshaw shouted back.

"HK-Rupture, moving to cover!" called the Hunter-Killer officer. "Deadbolt – SC-21, run interference. We're still engaged; we'll get to you as fast as we can."

"Copy that, Deadbolt." The skiff turned and Brackenshaw couldn't suppress her apprehension. She'd gotten used to working with Vannigan, a known quantity she could rely on. His second officer was perfectly competent, but she simply couldn't give him the same level of trust.

Biting her lip, she tried to shove that thought out of her mind. No sense, worrying about it now – they had a battle to win.

They swept back along the length of the human line, passing a dozen different battles as the humans and Scraegans fought to hold back the tide. Crawlers leapt high to land on top of tanks and armoured vehicles; some were shot out of the sky, only for their forty ton bodies to go crashing into the middle of human formations with almost as destructive an effect.

The armoured Mammoths proved their worth, the mobile fortresses providing strong points for the defenders to position themselves around. Their flanks glittered with discharging weapons, filling the air with high-calibre rounds and thick smog. To her amazement as they flashed past, she saw one Crawler trying to scale the side of one Mammoth, with a Raptor pattern Hunter-Killer latched onto its back like a limpet, stabbing furiously to try and bring the creature down.

She didn't get to see if the pilot was successful. A moment later they reached the beleaguered armoured column of AC-3. The heavy tanks were trying to hold a staggered formation to cover each other, cannons blasting in the gloom as a fresh tide of Crawlers poured from a fissure on the left flank. Bodies disintegrated, but there were always more to take their place. First one tank, then another were swarmed and torn open.

"Get us in there!" Brackenshaw hollered. "SC-21 – HK-Rupture, haul your ass out here. We are engaging. I repeat, we are engaging!"

She didn't wait for his reply. The skiffs sliced into the Crawler mass with almost suicidal speed. Gunfire spewed from their flanks, dragging the attention of the monsters away from tank column as they tried to reverse, cannons still battering the enemy line.

"On our way, on our way!" came the yell from HK-Rupture's commander. "Hang tight." She nodded; fired another round. Yanked back the firing bolt; fired again. The skiff slewed violently, slaloming through leaping, thrashing Crawlers. Ahead of them, a tank with two Crawlers already on top of it, charged forward into the middle of the enemy mass, cannon booming defiantly.

It vanished briefly from view, then a deafening explosion ripped through the tunnel. Torn metal and fire ripped through Crawler bodies as the doomed tank blew its ammo reserves, killing several more of the nightmare creatures with its dying breath.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

The panicked shriek from Private Rankil below decks was the only sliver of warning that Brackenshaw received. She half turned towards the brow of the skiff; caught the briefest glimpse of something immense rearing up in front of them.

Then they hit it. The skiff rammed headlong into a Crawler that had risen in their path, its sharp prow ramming straight through the front of the monster's carapace and lodging there.

There was a horrendous screech of buckling metal as the skiff's structure folded under the pressure. Brackenshaw lost her footing, scrabbled for the handrail, but before she could anchor herself again, the nose of the vehicle jammed into the ground. The chassis warped and twanged like a taut bowstring.

Brackenshaw managed to scream as she was hurled from the deck.

*

Ryke's shock cannon discharged with a vengeful boom, tearing a chasm in the flank of one Crawler. It stumbled drunkenly, hissing in rage and pain, before he smashed his warblade through the wound. Without the armoured carapace to stop it, his armoured fist plunged all the way into the innards of the creature.

Its tail whipped around, clanging off one of his shoulder shields, but Ryke ignored it, gritting his teeth and digging his hand deeper into the fleshy mass of the Crawler's insides. Then he fired again.

Gore papered the walls of the tunnel as the arthropod was ripped open from the inside. He yanked himself free with a growl of effort, watching as the monster collapsed in a bleeding broken heap. With an instant to catch his breath, he looked around to take stock.

Pandemonium surrounded him. The lower they drove into the tunnels the more Crawlers seemed to pile out of the depths to try and stop them. They died in their scores. One Dreadnought pilot had been killed in the never-ending melee, isolated and buried beneath six Crawlers; dead before the creatures could be obliterated in retribution. Back the way they'd come the rest of the human army fought a desperate holding action, buying space for Ryke and the vanguard.

They needed to make it count.

Thaye swung around on his flank, both warblades driven their full length between one Crawler's leg joints. She levered it up off the ground; Milica Praxadine's mech loped in, firing both shock cannons at once into the thing's unprotected belly. More sludge-grey blood caked the ground and the Crawler fell dead.

"Keep pushing!" De Lunta roared from further head, fighting to keep pace with the Scraegan Alpha. The great beast was like a god possessed, the sword it carried breaking carapaces and severing limbs with every brutal swing. "They're thinning, rip 'em to pieces!"

Ryke nodded to himself, backhanding another wounded enemy with an almost careless gesture, the sheer weight and power of his Dreadnought shattering the thing's skull with the motion. He flexed his shoulders and stomped forward.

"Havoc, Fang, on my six," he ordered, pulling his comrades along with him. A Scraegan up ahead tipped a Crawler over with a vicious thrust of its long, thick-handled axe. As the creature fell, the warrior dragged the axe back, swinging up and over in a murderous arc to bring the blade smashing down into the middle of the Crawler's undermouth.

It writhed weakly, mortally wounded by the blow.

Ryke and his companions thundered forward, intercepting two more Crawlers bearing down on the Scraegan. Cannons bellowed and blades flashed. More grey blood was spilled. Just as De Lunta had promised the mass of bodies began to thin out, and he watched Crawlers recede hissing into the darkness ahead of them.

The Scraegans let out a storm of victory howls that shook the walls, stalking forward and sending glaring furnace cannon blasts after their retreating foes. They gathered together, standing in a faint oasis of calm amidst the carnage that had engulfed the Scraegar Labyrinth.

"Command – HK-Predator, report," Hackley's strained voice crackled over the wide-band from somewhere back in the tunnels.

"Pressing on, ma'am," De Lunta confirmed. "Crawler's have pulled back for now. I think we're getting close. Package is intact – we are staying on mission."

"Good. Be advised, extreme resistance in all sectors. Even with Scraegan support, we don't have a lot of time."

"Copy that."

"AC-1 – HK-Predator," Brigadier Vanyr interjected. "I've got all the support we can spare and we're en route. We'll be at your position in three minutes."

"Acknowledged," De Lunta replied between heavy breaths. "All pilots, take a beat, rehydrate and then form up. We've still got a delivery to make."

Ryke breathed; blinked to clear his vision. Only now with a moment to stop and think did he realise how murderously hot it was inside the Dreadnought. Every system that would normally have cooled the pilot cradle had been retasked to contain the overcharged reactor to stop them from blowing apart under the strain.

He gratefully crunched down on a hydrocube, taking the time to relax his hands and flex his fingers. He tried to ignore the stiffness in his shoulders, easing back into the impact gel of the cockpit. His HUD flickered with approaching friendly signatures.

Scrubbing the sweat from his eyes, he turned to look.

Brigadier Vanyr's command tank made for an imposing sight at the head of their reinforcements, coils of smoke still rising from its barrel, its armour and treads splattered with gore. Twelve more assault tanks rumbled along behind her, accompanied by a ragtag collection of scout skiffs, armoured infantry carriers and a handful of standard pattern Hunter-Killers – their signatures marking them out as HK-Grendel. At least, what was left of it.

The support column grumbled into place, and he watched figures scurrying on the decks of the scout skiffs. One crewman spilled out of the top hatch of a tank and scampered nimbly down to one of the treads. Ryke watched as the man tugged at something for several seconds before a hunk of something solid came free.

It took a moment for him to realise it was part of a Crawler's leg.

"AC-1, form your people up," De Lunta ordered. "Eyes on our flanks and keep those creeping bastards away from the package. We'll lead you in. HK-Grendel, mop up anything we leave behind."

"Copy that, Reaver," Grendel's commander replied, his voice thick and gravelly.

Ryke nodded; breathed to steady himself and clipped a private band message to Thaye. "How's your new can holding up?"

"It's no dancer, but it's got big, nasty teeth," she replied, slightly out of breath but still somehow sounding excited, as if this whole, mad plunge into the dark was one big adventure. "One for the history books, right Sarge?"

"You can have the glory," he chuckled. "I'll settle for a cold beer and a good night's sleep."

"Can't argue with that."

"HK-Predator!" De Lunta's voice cut across them. "On my lead. One last push people. Let's finish this!"

And with the Dreadnoughts and Scraegan hunters leading the way, the vanguard of the attack force plunged deeper into the depths. The tunnel continued to slop down, deeper and deeper into the shadows. Powerful floodlights mounted on tank hulls and the shoulder sections of the Hunter-Killers carved through the gloom and the rumbled on like a heavily armed glacier.

At the head of the column, Ryke noticed something up ahead.

Initially he dismissed the dark, gnarled shapes as bits of rock, but as they drew closer the shadows took on definite shapes. Too angular for nature. Too manufactured to be Scraegan. The Dreadnoughts slowed, spreading out as best they could as they stepped into a field of crumbling debit. A wheel there; a smashed axle there. Half-buried equipment glinted under the floodlights.

"What in the Everflowing is this?" Ryke breathed, scanning the blackened, rusted wrecks that littered the tunnel.

These were human vehicles – they had to be – but he didn't recognise the designs. They looked achingly old, not carrying the same bulk and standard armour plating of anything he was used to seeing in Brekka. The wheels looked the same though – big and balloon-like for traversing the sands of the badlands.

"By the Watching Lords," Sergeant Parnell murmured. "Is this... could this really be...?"

"We always wondered where some poor bastard ran into the Scraegans," De Lunta said. "I think we might have found them."

"Gear's pre-war, no doubt," Captain Dultzer confirmed as they clumped onwards.

Ryke swallowed hard as he scanned across the imploded flank of one truck. "This one looks like a furnace cannon holed it." His gaze rose warily to the Scraegans accompanying them.

The huge, black armoured warriors seemed not to pay the graveyard much mind, but he noticed that they made a point of not stepping on any of the wreckage, moving through the debris with surprising care.

"No bodies," Thaye whispered.

Ryke felt fresh unease crawling up his spine when he realised she was right.

Quiet descended on the column as they snaked their way through the wrecked, ancient vehicles of these unfortunate colonists, but their progress came to halt when the tunnel architecture changed abruptly. Something that looked alarmingly like a twenty meter high doorframe rose up in front of them, and the passage beyond was almost square, smooth walls carved down deeper into Rychter's crust.

The Scraegans gathered around the entrance, low growls reverberating in the backs of their throats. The Alpha cast its gaze down the square tunnel before it looked back at the Hunter-Killers. It pointed down with its sword, indicating something on the tunnel floor.

Lights from the lead Dreadnoughts followed the pointing blade.

Something flat lay on the ground just beyond the threshold. After a moment's examination, Ryke realised he was looking at two immense rectangular slabs, broken in half down the middle, lying as though they'd fallen inwards from their side.

But that wasn't all he saw.

"This look familiar to you, Vannigan," De Lunta asked quietly, his voice heavy with unease.

Ryke nodded. "Yes, sir." His mouth dried and his stomach turned as he looked at the gigantic carving, the same carving he'd seen on the medallion carried by the Scraegan priest. The same thing that their age-old foes referred to as 'All-Na'. A depiction of the head of a Crawler, bigger than any he'd ever seen.

"Looks like someone knocked a little too loud," one of the other pilots chuckled mirthlessly. "What is this? Crawler mansion?"

"It's not a door." A sense of awe and panic welled up in Ryke's throat. "It's a barrier."

He felt like he was falling headlong into the midst of some ancient, hidden secret that he had no right to be a part of. He was a kid from the quarries and a soldier. He just wanted to protect his home; to get revenge for those he'd lost. He never wanted to face the mysteries of this harsh, scorched world.

He didn't have much choice.

The Alpha, satisfied that it had their attention, pointed back through the human column towards the old wreckage, one blunt claw extending. It swept that paw from left to right, then inclined its massive head to the broken slab. Then it mimed an explosion with the free paw.

"Oh, Everflowing..." Ryke's eyes widened when he realised the implications.

"Drown me, is he saying what I think he's saying?" Dultzer asked incredulously.

Ryke nodded to himself. "I think... whoever took that expedition down here, they somehow did this."

"Broke the barrier?" De Lunta sounded like he didn't want to believe it. "So you think...?"

"They let them out. One of us set the Crawlers loose. And then the Scraegans killed them for it."

"So they fired first."

"Shit, who knows?"

"Bloody Riverlords," Thaye gasped. "But, I mean, who would build something like that? Who in the Everflowing River would have locked those things down there in the first place? I reckon the Scraegans would have just killed them rather than burying them."

"Drowned if I know." He shrugged, shaking his head. "But that insignia on the door. It's the same as the medallion the priest had. It's All-Na. The big nest, whatever we're here to kill and whatever All-Na really is, it's down this passage."

"We'll have all the time in the world to point fingers and claws at each other once we finish what we started," Colonel De Lunta barked sharply, cutting off any further speculation. The Hunter-Killer commander stepped forward heavily, reactor snarling in readiness.

"Whatever, happened here, it was fifty years ago. Screw your heads back in and keep your eyes on the prize. We're going to do what the folks who made this door should have done." His voice hardened to a diamond edge. "We're going down there, and we are going to wipe those things out, once and for all."