He hadn't made it four steps before the medics started shouting. Whirling, he got to see the suicide runner flopping like a fish while they tried to grab onto her. What little of her remained, anyway, and without them hurting her. Tough task. He hurried back just in time for her to tilt off the side.

  One of the medics had a solid hold on her left arm. Her torso hung off the side, and her neck cricked into the edge. Ui-4 looked on as it seemed everything had gotten handled. The medics would take a couple of panicked seconds to reposition themselves. Lifting her wouldn't take half as long, and she'd get strapped down. No repeat incidents after that, even if she spasmed more.

  When she began sliding lower, even though her arm was still held, Ui-4 bit his tongue. He was not vomiting inside his helmet. The medics were trying to get to the right places to support her hanging body. What they weren't prepared for was her falling body. A yelp, and someone lashed out at her body, grabbing a fistful of torn skinsuit. A patch of the fibers covering her back tore away, but she continued her fall from the gurney.

  The suicide runner hit the deck. What Ui-4 and everyone else thought'd been her savior was holding her arm. Still holding her arm. Each medic stared at their peers for a second, then exploded into action.

  "What in the Directory?!"

  "She's not responsive, and--"

  "Getting an IV line over--"

  "Who thought that it--"

  "I'm going to kill whichever one of you didn't strap her down as the first thing!"

  A medical squad talking over each other while they remedied their mistakes was a sight to see. Ui-4 could see himself smiling if this were some comedic skit. They lifted the suicide runner, half of them cursing her out. The other half gave the same treatment to each other. He mostly heard some variation of "Damn, this sucks."

  She rolled off the side again and would've hit her head on the way down if the medics weren't on guard. Their hands pressed her against the gurney's side. Her newest wound dribbled less blood than the others. That was good, wasn't it?"

  "For the love of the Directory, someone strap her torso down!"

  They were dealing with one of the most uncooperative yet damaged patients ever. Just their luck. One of the only times they'd see someone with this wound severity would be if they'd gotten corpse identification duty. It made handling her without exacerbating her condition all that much harder.

  Perhaps because of his distance from the spectacle, Ui-4 focused less on the obvious. He ignored the frenzied medics. The beeps and flashing lights from all the handheld medical tech they used. Every noise from behind him as more WAVs came aboard. His own WAV leaned forward a little.

  'Her lips. Wasn't there...? No, she's definitely--' He strode forward, pushing aside one of the medics. The red-faced specialist whirled and lashed out. His fist knocked against one of the WAV's plates, leaving behind no dent. The medic didn't come away similarly unscathed. Ui-4 ignored the other man's grunt, and that he clutched probably broken fingers.

  The other medics halted in their activity. Good. He didn't have to push anyone else aside. Leaning down, he positioned one of his optical sensors over her mouth. His HUD got to work, marking different points on her lips and using them as a rig. It copied a reel of the shaky movements, then played it back to him when it detected she repeated herself.

  "Can't leave it...behind...n-not...in the....t-the caverns...suit's...storage comp-compartments...got the...the..." He listened to it twice while stepping back and waving the medics back. Some of them worked after that part-angled in his direction, like they were afraid he'd come close again.

  He called his supervisor. "I need to issue a retrieval request for the extracted suicide runner's WAV."

  "Reason?"

  "I've got information from the suicide runner. She's resisting--" He looked over his shoulder at how she struggled against the restraints, even now. "--getting drugged, because she wants her suit extracted too."

  "What's important about the suit? Her microchip already has all the data we'd need on what happened with Io."

  "It's something physical, sir. I'm guessing she collected something while fleeing Io. She tore her arm off to stop the medics from anasthetizing her. Literally."

  His supervisor whistled through his teeth. "Suicidal suicide runner. Not what I expected."

  "Sir, the--"

  "Can't make that kind of call myself. I need a moment, but you stay with me." Ui-4 got muted while his supervisor bothered the next head up the chain. It got considered, then it happened again. Each officer looking over the proposal didn't know what to think. Was this reading into something that wasn't there? Or would they be ignoring the chance to bring back something valuable to the Directory?

  Something between fear and duty won out with them all, and the proposal went higher. That was how Qa-3 came to be shaking his head at his handheld while Re-5 peered over his shoulder.

  "It's got merit, don't you think?"

  "No, sir, I don't. Where would we store another WAV? Even a ruined one is several hundred kilograms of scutumsteel that'd need tying down."

  "So we'd toss out one of the defaults to make space. It wouldn't be the worst loss we'd suffer during our assignment, right?"

  He sighed, nudging her with an elbow. "Not going to answer that. Do you really think the suicide runner found something?"

  "Look at it this way. We're trading in a fully-functional WAV for an equal amount of scutumsteel. The only cost we'd actually accrue is the time delay it'd take for those scraps to get melted down. Another suit would replace it after the manufacturing process." Her hands illustrated her point. They made helpful gestures while pinwheeling in a messy circle. Was this supposed to be before-and-after, or cause-and-effect? "In exchange for the time cost, we have the chance of getting our hands on something we're not expecting."

  "That could be something we're not expecting in a bad way, like nothing."

  "Or a good way. It's a Schrodinger's chance right now. I'll bet on it."

  "Yes, sir." She caught him giving her his respectful version of a patronizing headshake. Well, she couldn't get all that disgruntled about it. He wasn't wrong. They had no way to tell what the bet's outcome would be. But two people could both be right in a disagreement. Were she wrong, they wouldn't lose anything except time. If there was one thing humanity could still spare a little of, it was time.

  Re-5 skipped down the communication hierarchy to contact an officer in the garage. He didn't sound pleased either, but she at least didn't have to see him pretend to be fine with the order. She watched through a feed as it happened. One of the defaults that'd just gotten secured, and its pilot extracted, went back out the gate. Two engineers pushing it on a dolly tipped the entire thing over the edge to save time. Nobody heard the crash outside. Too many sounds were still competing for dominance, from Aud to servicemen to all the AWSs.

  The retreating vanguard had almost passed over the suicide runner's abandoned light WAV. More accurately, its busted-up remains. As the fresh orders came, no one needed to change anything drastic in the formation. Two defaults near the center reached out and each grabbed a few pieces of the suit. After them, two more. Anything smaller than singular armor plates got left behind.

  As much as Re-5 and Qa-3, as well as other officers, had agonized over the choice, nothing crazy'd needed to happen. The vanguard continued its escape. When the first of the survivors reached the ramp, Re-5 squeezed the back of her chair. The thin metal creaked under her fingers.

  Her nerves left her feeling hot and antsy, spurred by more than the vanguard's state. "How's the runner? Don't edulcorate it."

  "I wouldn't bother, sir. She's missing her legs, a finger, most of her body's blood content--and that's what's on the surface." He checked his handheld. "Nevermind. She was missing a finger. Now it's her entire arm. We'll have the medical compartment do what's in their power. Keep her breathing, get her blood content up, but I wouldn't expect any more miracles. She's already experienced several, making it this far." He looked so serious when saying that. Like the suicide runner'd spent the rest of her decade's luck in advance.

  Before she could edge in another question, Qa-3 kept going. "Should I have medical rank extracting her chip above ensuring she lives?"

  All servicemen had a chip inserted into modules at the base of their skulls. This was the only mandatory cybernetic augmentation soldiers of humanity needed to enlist. Strong reasoning supported the First's policy on it. Information, and by extension, knowledge, would be the weapon humanity freed itself with. A war against nigh-unkillable opponents would produce many unforeseen circumstances. To make them a bit more foreseeable, the military needed to know more.

  Information was already gathered via drones, scans, and seismic equipment. Even the Nyx Breaker's echo room could create three-dimensional models of spaces it wasn't within.

  But even this wasn't enough. The First Ray took things one step further, like usual. Turning their servicemen into another layer of surveillance created widespread coverage. Almost nothing escaped notice. Microchips "tapped" the visual cortex, recording everything servicemen saw like a camera. Sound wasn't possible, but the microchip in its current form was miraculous enough. Upgrading it to also tap into the primary auditory cortex would be greedy--and costly.

  'I wouldn't mind letting Ze-4 handle this one.'

  Microchips plugged in deep with a host's brain functions. Too deep. They sacrificed all redundancy to function past the host's demise. If Ms. Suicide Runner died before medical extracted her chip, it'd break down. All it recorded would become unrecoverable. "What would you pick, Qa-3?"

  "The chip, sir."

  "Is that what it comes down to? An unbiased primary source of the events of Io's fall against a survivor with PTSD?"

  "I don't know what you'd like me to say." He shifted beside her. Was he leaning nearer, or away? "Philosophy and morality aren't my specialty, and even if they were, they have no place in war. Certainly not in this one. Telling you how sorry I am this is something you need to address wouldn't solve it for you. All you can do is make the choice that you know another sitesman in your shoes'd make."

  Oh. She looked over her shoulder at him. He called her a sitesman, not a replacement.

  "What?"

  "Nothing." She turned back to the console and bit her cheek. "Rank the chip."

  The words came out hoarse. Like she was choking. Forcing something too large out of a throat too small. She ignored his acknowledgment, returning to the skirmish still waging. Might've doomed another to die, but there were still lives outside that she could save.

  Most default WAV casualties happened around the vanguard's outer shell. While they held, the inner layers broke apart one by one. A mixture of lights and defaults climbed the ramp. They distributed themselves along the slotting lanes, hurrying where they wouldn't trample anyone. Both lighter weight classes had fewer clamps to secure the suits with, so they took a shorter time.

  Each layer lost meant the vanguard could compress itself further. Lines drew closer together and merged. The skirmish intensity increased at the formation's head like a rock parting a waterfall. Casualties on both sides were heaviest there.

  Re-5 ran some calculations and passed them on to her HUD. It was merciless, breaking apart each half-formed plan and criticizing every small flaw. She didn't fault it. It did its duty. It was her not working right. She needed some way to bring every serviceman back inside. The latest involved moving the Nyx Breaker forward. Swallow the rest of the stranded vanguard before the superhordes could. It might cause more injuries on their side. But it'd have to work.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Sir, the formation's left is faltering. Permission to start the second blanket-bombing?"

  "Is that the best option we have?"

  "Redirecting ordnance from the center and right sides of the superhorde wouldn't help. It'd neglect those sides, open new vulnerabilities to patch our current one. Without the heavies, the vanguard doesn't have enough kick in their WAVs to watch their backs." Were there any alternatives left aside from one last blanket bombing? That'd use up their last flash cylinders.

  "Then, go ahead."

  The Nyx Breaker's cylinder launchers halted after discharging their latest load. Flash cylinders were smaller in diameter and took less time to cycle. The targeting programs did their due diligence. With less "surface area" to attack, the superhordes compressed, slamming against each other.

  One mass of teeth and fur formed to pursue the vanguard at the point they met. Each cylinder's explosion radius could overlap to create a stacking output.

  When every launcher fired a second time, the Aud took notice.

  But they couldn't dodge or escape, since none of the cylinders aimed for them. They aimed above them. A second before mass detonation, the Nyx Breaker's optic feeds darkened again. Inside the WAVs, pilots still fighting for their lives went blind as well. The tunnel exploded with light, generating wails.

  A few Aud realized the same thing would happen, and tucked their heads under their midsections. Others let the rest of the horde trample over them. Bruised and battered as they were becoming, it was a ruthless method. This put several layers of tough, dampening bodies between them and the explosions. Neither way worked.

  The vanguard retreated; some of their fallen supported between two standing WAVs. Others got dragged along by a less courteous comrade. The Titan met them, its head resting against the cracking rocks. The electric eyes glared at the writhing superhorde at the pilots' backs.

  Coming closer to the horde with the garage open was one of the most dangerous things the crew could do. But where there was risk, there was reward. The WAVs furthest along clunked their boots against the base of the ramp. Inside the garage, the air was alight with nervous, frantic energy.

  Were the crewmembers already inside the garage going to be enough? They'd need more engineers and techs, wouldn't they? Re-5's mind spun at what felt like kilometers a second. The parts of her mind that'd gotten digitized by the cybernetics went even faster. She had Qa-3 send down ten squads of helpers from other locations across the Titan's length. Fitting the last members of the vanguard aboard and closing the garage would have a tight border of opportunity. Both of them watched through surveillance in the garage as every remaining lane waiting for filling became more packed.

  A few WAVs remained by the garage entrance, firing into the horde. Someone had ordered a standing defense! It only took a group of stray techs half a minute catch on. They came around to top off their empty sonic munitions. In prime fighting condition, the select WAV pilots on guard duty waited along the ramp edges. With replaced battery cores and the promise of escape no longer distant, they held. A desperate group of thirty, against so, so many.

  Another ring of fire drew a line between the ramp and the superhordes. WAVs on the ramp were so close they could feel the heat sear their skin through two layers of scutumsteel. Not to mention those that still had functional shielding cores even felt it. Techs hijacked their targeting interfaces, handpicking the best locations to aim. Updates came with how far along the slotting was. A hundred left. Then fifty. Twenty-five, ten, and one.

  When the number hit zero, the WAVs retreated up the ramp as a single body. They had to be quick about it. Complex machinery retracted the great slab of scutumsteel away from the ground. Rods hidden within folded into themselves. If the pilots didn't move like a combustion orb was under their butts, they wouldn't make it.

  The last WAV fell short anyway as the ramp disappeared under his feet and gravity took hold. Mere air was unable to support his weight. The pilots just ahead made it with a second to spare, hearts pounding in a shared beat. They shared grief, too, but that could wait until they were free of their WAVs.

  Re-5 felt like she waited an eternity to hear "They're all back." Her orders came out in a cracking voice, but her subordinates ignored it. They felt likewise. Most controlled themselves worse than her. The piloting crew couldn't wait for the garage to tie down every WAV. Qa-3's solution was to bother some techs on a lower platform. "No, that's not going to stress them. We're--goodness, man, do you hear yourself? Yes, I do know what that happens to--no. No, but you have to--" He looked her way and mouthed "Ancient" like it were something sour on his tongue. He eventually prevailed, convincing his older, more stubborn comrade to strengthen the anti-grav.

  The Nyx Breaker remained stationary while superhordes closed in like a rainbow tide. Aud should've had them, dead to rights. But the Nyx Breaker was only waiting for its pilots to get their bearings. For the acting sitesman to give a direction. The rest of the crew never quit rushing about from one task to the next. Even in such a dire strait, they didn't forget they were the best of humanity's offerings.

  The drills creaked, spun, and a second later resumed chewing through the tunnel. Re-5's chosen direction was one they all knew well: east. Home. They would have to leave behind the Aud to reach it.

  "Stop firing," Qa-3 said, looking up.

  "What?"

  "The emplacements." He turned around his screen so she could see the schematics for one of the emplacement mount hatches. Screw-like gears propelled the mounts up a shaft, which was how the compartmentalization happened. When the need for firepower was gone, the process reversed. The hatches would lean back over and lock into place.

  "Why?"

  "We're making ourselves vulnerable."

  "As opposed to making ourselves more vulnerable?"

  "Not quite, sir. It takes us a couple seconds to pull a compartment into the ground. The quick math suggests we can get half of the Nyx Breaker away from exposure before we're exposed."

  "Closing the hatches would--"

  "Seal the mount shafts in, and keep the Aud out of any obvious chinks in the Titan's protection." The schematic played through the closing and locking mechanism. "At the cost of reducing our bite, yes."

  "Would we be able to get inside all the way before they did too much damage to the exterior?"

  "No. This way, they'd just do less comparatively."

  The two of them fussed around on the sitesman's console while sending the orders out. The gunnery officer she talked to sounded disgruntled, pinched tone and all. Qa-3, despite the confidence he'd shown in his calculations, was more or less the same. In less than a minute, the human noises contributing to the roars in the greater tunnel quieted. Aud-made noise was all the audio sensors picked up after that.

  Grinding vibrations shuddered along the exterior as the emplacements stopped firing. Every turret shifted in place, reoriented for easier retraction, and got pulled down. Their hatches clicked, and long arms pulled them upward and into place. Schchchch-reeeee-clackack.

  Their pursuers reached them before the Titan's rear half got pulled into the tunnel. Individual members of the combined superhorde couldn't do much on their own. They raked claws and teeth across sandwiched, constantly shifting scutumsteel plates. Not every attack left a mark, and not every mark turned into a graver weakness of the armor.

  Yet who said they were working in isolation? The strength of a singular yellow Aud was already formidable. What happened when thousands of its brethren crawled across every available meter? The Titan's surface area allowed a great number to dig in and try their luck. More than that climbed over those already clawing at the surface, pressing down with their weight. When combined, the creaking and groaning of metal filled the air.

  Re-5 knew, among other things, that the pilots weren't intentionally taking their time. The Nyx Breaker's size was sometimes a benefit, and at others, a detriment. It was unfortunate that this moment fell into the second category, because shaking off so many wouldn't come cheap.

  Each compartment yanked into the layers of rock and darkness revitalized the crew. A little bit by a little bit, the exposed amount of the ropey body decreased. The final compartment escaped a breach at the last second, and Re-5 felt like hugging Qa-3. Now, they needed to shake off or kill every last unwanted passenger.

  What they'd done the first time wouldn't work. The Aud had only latched onto the last tail compartments then, whereas now they covered almost half. To be sure, the oranges and some of the yellows couldn't withstand the forces at play. But as sure as that, other yellows, and all the greens could tough it out.

  Qa-3 leaned on the railing while looking down at the lower platforms. "The autonomous intelligences have their own takes, more or less. Can't say one seems more likely than another to work, sir."

  "Why're they disagreeing with each other and all forwarding their own proposals?"

  "Not everyone of them disagrees. Some have made proposals that mirror or at least incorporate a large amount of work from another."

  The thought was amusing. "They're plagiarizing each other?"

  "More like indirectly complimenting, showing what they think're the best parts of each."

  She had her HUD show a few of the more sensible ones. There was a proposal for releasing their explosive ordnance at point-blank range. Mutually destructive, but effective. She blinked often while reading one that asked the pilots to surrender control to the autonomous intelligences. Yep, no.

  Her personal favorite was near the end of the list. She showed it to Qa-3 after borrowing his screen and leaning beside him. "What about this one?"

  He took one look at it, and she could already tell he wanted to say no. She rushed to explain. "If we can clear most of them out by using their advantages against them, does getting a bit damaged while doing it hurt?"

  "'A bit?' Yes, sir, most servicemen would say it would. More than most."

  "Aren't the scutumsteel plates already getting softened under that beating?"

  "So you want to make them softer?"

  She scrolled down more, showing the second half and the proposal's desired outcome. They read it together, and he grinned at her. "Actually, that might work."

  Outside, but not all the way outside where the Aud were, there was a layer between the internal compartments. This was where the bottom parts of the mount shafts rested. Emplacements came down here in the darkness when not firing at something above. Around them, the Titan shifted, and low, electric humming permeated the cramped space.

  A fourth of the mount shafts had electric emplacements installed inside. Those now activated, the screwed gears unwinding and pushing the bottom of the mount up. Levers and beams unfolded and clinked into place, adding to the support struts, while great, thick belts of mesh pulled from above and the sides.

  Every electric stopped before the point where they would hit the hatches. There wasn't much space to maneuver, but the techs operating them were skillful. They could reorient the barrels without scraping the edges of the shafts. When most pointed in the right directions, the Nyx Breaker fired upon itself from within.

  Thermal energy. That was what the electrics hit their targets with. Key points beneath the exterior experienced temperature rises as the scutumsteel heated up. The electrics kept this up, sometimes pausing to replace the focusing crystals. A few changed their aim by a few degrees when one vague spot got hot enough. On the outside, nothing changed all that differently for a while.

  Had the Aud been more mentally-capable, they might've gotten suspicious of the defenses. Or, more specifically, the lack of them. The only obstructions they faced came from resisting extreme friction. It was from the Titan, yes, but from it naturally interacting with the environment, nothing more.

  A green leaned closer to the scutumsteel above it. It hung from the underbelly of the speedy scutumsteel construct. Not many other Aud had found perches down here, and managed to hold on for so long. This particular one would've stayed on the ride for longer if not for what happened next.

  The maw opened to tear out the next chunk. It readjusted the grip its claws and barbs had inside, and growled. The rush of wind and the continuous crunch of rock reduced it to less than a whisper. The metal felt weak, so it adjusted its grip again. Another mouthful of sharp, painful metal. Another readjustment. Another--another readjustment. The green yowled as it lurched down all of a sudden, almost losing its hold.

  The metal above it glowed a dull reddish-orange. Not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to see. That faint light in the dark was the last thing it saw before the green's claws slipped through the metal.

  One by one, then in groups as the heated metal plates dispersed their heat across a wider surface area, the unwelcome passengers lost their grips. It didn't matter their fur color, because all of them were strong enough to hold on. But when the scutumsteel approached its melting point? That strength became too much, and creatures unused to regulating it couldn't stay on.

  A chunk of the plates located around the hottest points couldn't stay attached either. The friction from grinding against the tunnel tore them away with violence. Other parts got sandwiched, as the increased malleability also reduced their ability to maintain shape.

  Servicemen in the rear made a few complaints about the anti-grav generators not reaching properly back there. The shocks felt more extreme and jarring. Well, they weren't supposed to feel inertia at all, but Re-5 realized she'd be going in circles then. Nothing serious enough to injure or disrupt the work back there, at least.

  As the last of the dangers fell off, she resisted sagging against the console. Why weren't there any nice chairs up here? She considered requesting one of the runners to bring up one. Or two. Would Qa-3 want one too? In the end, she didn't ask that.

  "How do things look?"

  They'd left their perches by the railing a little while ago. "The superhorde is too noisy. The longer we can't shake them, the more their numbers will grow. Roaming Aud in the connecting tunnels are sensitive. We've gotten unlucky." Indeed they had. Most of the data they worked with was situational and qualifier-dependent. Despite that, every time the Nyx Breaker tunneled away from danger, only outliers like the stubborn blue kept up. Even that was only since it'd hitched a ride! But this superhorde squeezed itself through the tunnel left in the Titan's wake like water in a tube.

  "I sent engineers to the rear to check the gashes we suffered while doing the intensive scan. They haven't reported in yet, but I suspect the Titan's shell took a heavy blow. Down to the interior?" Thus, opening the entirety of the Nyx Breaker's insides, full of the scent of humans, to the outside. The Aud had keen noses, which was why WAVs were airtight. He gave her a pointed look. Exasperation? "Beaming ourselves and compromising the external structural integrity hasn't helped, I'm sure."

  The best thing in response to that was to move on. She'd make a mention of putting out fires in her after-action report. "I see. Anyone suggest a path or plan to help us escape yet?"

  "Yes." His grimace held assuredness and unsureness in duality. He forwarded a model, and she could only return his with a bemused quirk of her lips.

  There wasn't a body of water in the Gaiss Hollow large enough to drown in. Pa-5 had been right about that. But the greater and lesser tunnels weren't part of the Gaiss Hollow, only connected. One specific greater tunnel had a tremendous current passing through it. An underground river.

  It fed from the west and traveled east, running under the Gaiss Hollow like a string drawn taut. The First Ray's expeditions'd prioritized this flooded tunnel at one point. Great promise seemed in abundance in the presence of moving water. Water had to come from somewhere. But like all expeditions, those failed too. How could moving against the current of a river dozens of kilometers wide be anything easy to do?

  But that wasn't important to Re-5. What was, was that it could save them. They traveled in a giant, scutumsteel-clad snake's worth of engineering. Their Nyx Breaker would protect them from the worst the river would offer. It wouldn't strangle them with oxygen deprivation, nor would the powerful currents squeeze them. But the Aud? They were hardy enough to survive the first few minutes. The higher tiers could keep pace with the Nyx Breaker for hours. After that? Her smile went from bemused to giddy.

  And the best part? The Aud would be able to smell them better if they traveled underwater. Yet they wouldn't close the distance. The Nyx Breaker would tantalize them as it drew further away. Perfect.

  "How soon can we reach the river tunnel?"

  "Four minutes."

  "Make it two."

  "Of course, sir."