Out here, where there was stone to work with, they could create.
And the evidence confirmed that they did, even though these creations were old, derelict, and falling to pieces. It was still their creation and still beautiful.
"What the…fuck!" He snarled when red alarms flashed across his HUD to tell him there were a few crossed wires in his hydraulics systems. They were being isolated from the rest of the system, which made sure there was still pressure in them to prevent the whole Argonaut from crumpling.
But there were still problems. They were closed off and situated in his right thigh, but issues of this kind tended to cascade when more pressure was put on the rest of the system. The Prophet couldn't afford to have his mech come apart at the seams in the middle of the battle. But he also couldn't afford to be the last man into the fray, if only because the Argonaut, a heavy mech, would always be an advantage in a battle. This was especially the case in the closer ranges he would commit to in these tunnels.
He had always advocated for speed over heavy armor, but there wouldn't be room for any speed and maneuvering, no matter how wide the passages were around them. They would need to keep moving, of course, with the lighter mechs able to hit and pull back before engaging too tightly.
But only if Hammerhand's mechs were in there to draw most of the fire and attention.
He could see another Argonaut approach him. Calina, his second-in-command and one of his standard-bearers, had noticed him fall back and came back to check on him. She contacted one of the support mechs to help with the repairs.
"Keep them moving," the Prophet ordered. "We can't leave Hammerhand and his Knights to take all the glory in this fight. I only need to put in some repairs and I'll join you presently."
"As you wish, my Prophet."
Her response was curt and to the point, not that he expected anything warmer from her. He trusted Calina above almost any other member of his army, and that included with his life.
Not that he didn't trust any of the others. It was her judgment he valued the most.
The Prophet left the support mech to conduct the repairs, climbed out, and helped to perform them himself when he felt the man wasn't moving quickly enough.
Finally, the red lights stopped flashing in his HUD and he entered the cockpit again and sent the support mech to continue the march with the others. They were almost all past him and only a few stragglers brought up the rear behind him.
He grasped the controls and began to move the mech forward once everything was certified as working. Satisfied, he drove the mech forward at a steady march and much faster than he had before. He wanted to catch up with the front of the line and to be involved in the fighting himself.
Another red light flashed across his HUD and the Prophet growled.
"Fucking… Not again…"
He stopped immediately. There was no sign of anything wrong with the mech itself. It was the sensors that had gone crazy as he continued to move forward. The seismic sensors told him that something was wrong but not with the mech. The problem lay with the ground below him.
Or rather, he realized—although he was still bewildered—the ground above him. He couldn't feel anything at first, but he could see that the others had the same readings and they had begun to get anxious with every step down the tunnel.
It was only when a low rumble in the earth around them added an edge of tangible danger that the Prophet called the troop to a halt.
"Get back!" he shouted and put his voice into all the commlinks he could access as well as the external speakers of the mech. "Get back! All of you pull back. Right fucking now!"
They didn't question his orders and in a few seconds, they had no reason to. The rumble happened again. By the third time, there was no break between the waves, only more and more noise as rocks and dust plunged from the tunnel roof.
"Back! All of you get the fuck bac—"
He was cut off. Something struck him hard in the back, the force sufficient to knock him off his feet. He actually felt it through the mech's heavy armor.
The pressure on his chest grew with every passing second and all he could hear was the rumbling that had become loud enough to make his ears hurt. It was broken only by blaring alarms in the mech before everything suddenly stopped. The lights no longer blinked red and everything turned black instead.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The Knights made good progress down the tunnels. If the maps Nina2 had provided them with were accurate, they needed to proceed for another kilometer and a half to reach the areas that were still patrolled by the city.
From that point on, it would be tough going, which was exactly what they needed it to be. Otherwise, they wouldn’t achieve their purpose to draw attention away from the secondary entrance. Unless they managed that, the Prophet would be embroiled in heavy fighting for which his light desert mechs were ill-equipped.
Hammerhand steeled himself while the adrenaline fought to assume control within.
"Heads up, laddie," Tinker called over the commlink. "The sensors pick movement up down the corridor. That’s some five hundred meters closer than they should be."
"Do you think they could be non-military?"
"I very much doubt it unless non-military folks are allowed to run
