Until then, they would have to plan for failure while hoping for success. Besides, there was nothing to say that they couldn't bring comms up again when the battle started. The surprise would already be gone and they could coordinate better.
Hammerhand noted Tinker walk toward him, and the smaller mech moved smoothly through the ranks that prepared for combat.
"What's on your mind, my friend?"
The mechanic huffed over the comms. "Don't 'my friend' me. And how did you know I was angry? Or that there was something on my mind?"
"Well, the fact that you came all the way to me with a full head of steam says you're angry and that you plan to give me a piece of your mind, which means you have something on it. Do enlighten me."
"Well, I think the plan is, for lack of a better word, shit. It's a shit plan, Hammerhand, and from what the Prophet told me, it was your idea. Oh, and we need a better name for the man than 'The Prophet.' I'm tired of calling him that. There must be a real name we can use if we're not a part of his…one of his followers."
"I agree with that, but it doesn't seem wise to ask the man for his name rather than his title when that's what all the others call him. At least for the moment. It could cause offense."
"Well, as long as we're not trying to offend the man."
"Do you think it would be wise to sabotage our alliance with the only fighters in the area who have the numbers to help us in this endeavor?"
Tinker didn't reply, which was all he needed to hear.
"For the moment, let's not do anything that could put that relationship at risk. With that in mind, what was it about the plan that you thought was absolute shit?"
"I didn't say absolute. I only said shit."
"Carry on, then."
Tinker paused for a few seconds to collect his thoughts. "Well, the plan itself is decent enough. I would have called for a night assault myself since success would be more important than how that attack was seen by those we attacked. Even so, I understand the thinking behind it."
"I assume there is more to it than that?"
"I don't like the fact that our Knights and the Auburnites will be at the front lines and take most of the risk and responsibility on ourselves. I don't like it."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that we're the only ones taking a risk. If the Prophet decides he doesn't want to risk his men in the attack, we'll be left with most of the losses at the end of it and holding the bag besides. I don't trust them enough."
"In a fight like this, especially with the coordination required, trust is a necessity. In everything we intend to do to fight against FEMA City, we will need to trust each other. Establishing that is fundamental, and in knowing they’ll have our backs and them knowing we'll have theirs, all future attacks will be the better for it."
Tinker continued to stare at him and glared through the faceplate of his mech. There was something about the man's anger that drove Hammerhand to continue. He didn't want to disappoint his friend.
"However, should there be something that goes wrong in the attack—should we not be able to hold their counterattack off, or should…our allies not come through in the way we need them to—there is already a retreat plan in place that we'll institute when the time comes. This will be a test of whether our new allies can be trusted or not as well."
The silence continued from the mechanic’s side for a few more seconds. "So you…made plans in case the worst should happen?"
"Of course. I wouldn't risk the lives of the Knights Mechanica or those loyal to us without having a plan for their protection in place."
"Well, that's all I needed to know."
"Are we clear on this? Is there anything else you need?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Then let's get ready for a fight."
Chapter Forty-Nine
She made her mind up not to leave him alone.
Not after what they had seen in the pit outside of town. It had probably been covered by now, but the memories of it remained rather vividly in her mind. She could think about nothing else for the rest of the day.
Something about winning a battle had left her feeling elated. She’d been exhausted immediately after, of course, but still filled with elation that she had fought on the right side of the battle and walked away with the victory. While timely help had been needed for that to happen, it had still happened, and she had been absolutely sure that she had been on the right side of it.
And while that was still how she felt, her confidence was shattered. Would the people in the right elect to summarily execute the prisoners they had captured during the battle?
If she were in the position Mayor Jones was in, would she have made the same decision? Hundreds of different scenarios rushed through her mind as she thought about it. Maybe it had been a decision made with resources in mind. Feeding and treating prisoners might have been seen as a waste, while they couldn't simply release them.
But why didn't they use the captives who were in good enough shape to help with the workload? Jones constantly went on about how much work there was to do, so why not spread the labor to those who could help and make up for their role as the aggressors in the battle?
No matter how she looked at it, there was no justification for what had been done, and the more she thought about it, the more it appeared that she was in the wrong. Or, at least, those she had fought with were in the wrong and she had thrown in with that, which made her culpable by
