Titans were humanity's greatest assets, according to some self-important people. A madwoman invented them, and her family used to maintain them before the engineering profession branched out from them.

  Dozens upon dozens once existed, each varying in their own purpose. Some could march, crawl, fly, burrow, or slither. There was a rumor Ze-4 had heard once when he was a child about a teleporting castle. Outlandish and unrealistic. Stupid.

  Some were scouts, utilizing sonar and other sensor tech to detect Aud before they got noticed. Some were flankers, coming out of the walls to harass, then vanish. A number served as stalwart defenders of key locations. Some were extraction and relocation vehicles, others were WAV transports, or mobile medical centers.

  They all served humanity well. That was what he usually found somewhere in their files. The assistive staff writing them always included that sentimental message right before the end of the files. Then they wrapped up with details of the decommissioning and scrapping process.

  Was telling the files' future readers that the Titans did "a good job" until the military retired them supposed to mean something? It'd have been a waste of time.

  All Titans shared two common factors. They performed a function normal technology couldn't do to the same extreme, and were--excusing the pun--titanic.

  Each got packed with millions of microchips and processors. The Fifth Ray invested hundreds of tons of scutumsteel plating into their frames. The most powerful anti-grav modules ever developed helped them stand under their own weight.

  Each carried the best of humanity's AWS technologies. Sonics, electrics, cylinder launchers, and sometimes netting cannons. The rule of thumb was that if something could increase a Titan's survivability, someone tossed it into the pile. The design budget for one of them alone...

  He avoided one of the techs running by, too busy looking down at a handheld screen to watch where she was going. Four seconds later, he needed to do it again when someone came from the other direction. His nostrils flared. 'Idiots.'

  Titans were too complex for a skeleton crew to operate them. The sheer number of functions needing constant manual control required an entire fort's worth of personnel. They maintained every meter, from top to bottom.

  Or in his Titan's case, from front to back. Their needy requirements turned Titans into small, mobile cities. Each had its own individualistic culture and customs, accrued by the crews living on them.

  Who could ever live in such conditions? It was easier than it sounded. He'd still prefer a position at one of the two bastion outposts. This was only the first deployment, and yet he knew.

  He knew that a few more weeks being responsible for this giant death machine would have him ready to ask for a demotion. No nice spots were likely to open up at the forts, nor at one of the districts or government sites back home. He expected that was what he'd have to give up.

  Titans were more than mobile war weapons. They were also production and logistics centers. They had food growth capabilities, and lodgings and accommodations for off-duty personnel. Their stores contained as many bulk goods as they did operational essentials, like battery cores.

  Some thought these Titans could turn the tide. If humanity couldn't beat the Aud through individual might, why not through sheer size? At times, quantity was a quality of its own.

  He masked a bitter smile behind his hand. Most humans had thought that centuries ago. He'd thought that until he was eight, when his mother's Titan never returned from a routine patrol.

  Humanity learned fast that direct confrontation wasn't the forte of anything human-made. Not even products of war made with the Aud in mind.

  In the beginning, the military treated them as disposable assets. Gigantic soldiers that they could toss at the Aud until they broke. Oh well, there were still plenty of others to take their places. Had any of them questioned where that mindset would lead?

  He was someone benefiting from hindsight, letting him see the results of such a frivolous war philosophy. Only eight Titans remained presently, veteran war machines of a three-century conflict.

  The Ancheros and Ephemeral Palisade patrolled the bare, flat lands of the north. Fort Callipso once stood guard in their place, and now they stood watch in its place. To the south lay the Anthill and the Dervish of Palm. A singular, grand mountain established that region, poking out from the ground. It was as if the Hollow had developed a welt.

  They were the replacements for Fort Clyvis. He winced at the memories. His hand pressed against his stomach. It took a moment to rein in the instinctual fear when he accidentally thought of it again. He needed to stop making that mistake. That part of his life was over. It'd been for a long time.

  The situations in the east and west were different. The bastion outposts in those directions had outlived their cardinal siblings. The Titans stationed there could maneuver during patrols with greater freedom.

  The east's cracked and scarred terrain was perfect for the agile Jackal. It roamed Fort Rhea's outskirts regularly. Servicemen would see its distant shape between crevices and hiking along the jagged cliffs in its path.

  The Last Light, humanity's last true city, also needed protection. It deserved the permanent posting of one of the Titans. The Halo Beast marched around the perimeter of the walls, never halting.

  Unlike the others, however, the Nyx Breaker's existence wasn't common knowledge. It was fresh off the production lines. All shiny and new. The Third Ray would've organized day-long celebrations where the citizenry cheered in jubilation. It was a tradition when a new Titan entered the public eye.

  He never got the chance to attend one. Born too late. He wouldn't've, anyway. But this time, any unveiling events would have to wait. Because the first constructed Titan in a century already had its first assignment.

  The First Ray had a reputation for creating long lists of answers for what-if scenarios. That was one of the duties they'd taken up themselves, outside of the ray's original mandate. They'd planned and perfected each through generations of theoretical warfare.

  One of those contingencies went into motion the second communications failed with Io. Of course, the military would never pass up an opportunity to hit several stones at once. They appointed him as the head of the emergency investigatory operation.

  At the same time, the Nyx Breaker would have a field test run. Right into the middle of a potential warzone. His superiors strapped him in with hundreds of high-performing servicemen and saw them off. How nice of them.

  Only the Eighth Ray was crazier than the First. That didn't mean much, considering most of that came from their headman's personality.

  He'd almost expected it when they lost the origin frequencies transmitting back to Directory Control. They'd crossed the threshold into the west when it happened. He'd nodded to himself when he didn't notice any unease. The crews didn't begin performing worse.

  For his part, he never entertained the thought of turning back. They had a mission, and would see it through. He would consider stepping on a head general's toes when they got back, though.

  It wouldn't be the first time he planned to use his quadruple status as an Ancient, active-duty serviceman, sitesman, and a Blessed like that. Any two of those things would let him get away with it. Four? He was untouchable unless he slapped one of his superiors.

  They observed Fort Io from afar. The mood onboard deteriorated when they determined another Bastion Outpost had fallen. The Aud emptied it of humanity and filled it with blood, corpses, and scrap. Three down, one left.

  'And so, Io joined his siblings, and nevermore drew breath. A traveler bore witness, and ate from depressions in their gravestones--' He blinked. 'What is wrong with me? Thinking of a children's book now of all times?'

  Their scouting survey wasn't entirely fruitless beyond that. They began discovering drones, the kind often deployed for assignments like theirs. Some moved past. Others, stationary. They weren't receiving commands from whoever'd deployed them. They collected every last one they found.

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  That was how the highest voice of authority present found himself studying footage that was…sickening. Ze-4 was something of an old soldier. One of the last things about his identity he still took pride in. He was an Ancient, as the "elders" of humanity were sometimes called. "Ineffective, deluded old-timers" suited his tastes better.

  He'd been a fresh-faced pilot when Fort Clyvis had fallen. What was it now, fifty years back? Was the eventual nightmare it'd turned out to be made better or worse by it being his first deployment?

  Ze-4 had never seen greater sights of desperation and depravity before the siege. Never participated in a way that made him feel such shame. He still remembered the taste like it was yesterday. Fort Clyvis made up the backbone of who he was now. More than anyone else in the room, he should've maintained his composure.

  Yet he was the first to turn from the images of blood and teeth before his stomach rebelled. He hadn't felt this disgusted with himself in years. One of the engineers was still rummaging through the drone's recordings on a different screen.

  Her eyes tracked the gore with clinical interest. Why wasn't she looking away? His disgust stopped focusing on himself the second it found a new target. He tapped her elbow, hoping the anger stayed out of his voice.

  "Have you finished copying the data?"

  "Yes, sir." She looked at him. She looked young enough for him to be her grandfather. Her face was paler than his, and he wondered how someone so young achieved a position here. Ironic. The most dangerous stations were often the most coveted.

  Humans were such misguided beings at times.

  He dismissed that line of thought. Nobody could fake skillful ability. Competence. Since she was here, she'd passed whatever criteria set out for her. As for whatever problems he found with her, they weren't important. He wasn't objective right now. He knew that. "Then release the drones after topping up their cores."

  "Sir?"

  Another engineer spared him the explanation. Thank the Directory some of the new ones studied practical stuff, not just theory.

  "Direct communication with the One-Light Directory isn't available. Normal procedure says we continue. At the same time, we can't do that. The circumstances in this case make it necessary that we do something to warn the rest of humanity. Io's fall is a big matter that requires a heavy reallocation of military assets to compensate. We'll hope the drones can make it the rest of the way home without Aud messing with them. Our assignment will continue as normal. Correct, sir?"

  Ze-4 uncrossed his arms when he realized the other engineer was waiting for approval. He begrudgingly nodded.

  "Although humans are becoming numb to all but the largest shocks, this is still a historic event. We'll need to seal off the Greater Western Tunnel System ourselves with Io gone. The alternative is hoping the drones reach the Last Light in time for them to take care of it."

  They'd need to go with the alternative. The priority for the moment was collecting data, not doing damage control. He moved to another screen, where no recordings played. Instead, a map of the western side of the Hollow had several dots overlaying it. The dots rearranged every few seconds while he came near.

  "That's all they could spare, you think?"

  "I don't know what Fort Io's sitesman was thinking, sir. Wouldn't a mass exodus of all survivors be better than boxing themselves inside?" The engineer here wore a dismal frown.

  "I suppose there could've been following waves. It's just, we've only pinpointed eight unique origin frequencies across the collected drones. Maybe the later runners didn't have time to deploy their drones?"

  Ze-4 couldn't say why, but he doubted it. "It's not important. Can you determine which of the runners are dead?"

  "That's not the difficult part. You see these signatures?" Two of the dots flashed to attract his attention. They looked duller compared to a couple of the others.

  "They were the last broadcast locations of operators. Here, and here, origin frequencies still connected the operators to their drones. However, they're well within range for the drones to continue receiving data. I'm left to assume orders stopped coming through when the operators stopped breathing."

  The engineer didn't seem to notice the macabre way he'd phrased his deductions. Ze-4 bit his tongue rather than risk anything unsavory coming out of his mouth. He might request a transfer once the scouting venture concluded. One too many eclectic personalities found their way onto Titans.

  "That's why most of the drones we've found weren't moving. They were operating on a manual input basis. Without continuous data input, they're useless. Only a couple operators granted automated intelligence programs full control."

  "Fine. Which signals do we ignore? We don't have the time to skirt around the fort to check each in person."

  "I agree, sir. We should focus on these three." He pointed at a cluster of dots far to the left. So far left they nearly fell off the diagram of the Gaiss Hollow. Ze-4's eyes drifted to the gaping cave maw waiting at the edge.

  "There's another reason the drones running on manual inputs could've stopped moving. It's what I think we should work around. A drone's range is impressive for its size. But once the operator is too far for their control method to connect to the drone, it's like someone cuts a string."

  Ze-4 smiled to show he understood. He didn't want to smile in front of any of them. Not in a real way that mattered. "You think those origin frequencies show us past transmissions for those operators. Not necessarily the final transmissions?"

  "Exactly! They might've needed to move on without calling their drones back. Or one or two even had your idea, sir. They just couldn't grant the automated intelligences complete control for whatever reason."

  "Good work. Share your theory with the others and get to finding new locations. Map a trail we can follow." He patted the engineer on the back and left one of the analytics compartments. The sudden uproar behind him cut off when the doors closed.

  Good grief. He'd never met a collective of engineers who weren't ecstatic about their work. Others at or above his rank must've appreciated it, or else they wouldn't've helped foster that kind of work ethic. To him, their energy wasn't infectious. It felt sickening, really.

  All Titans had a certain shape and image to reference during construction. That, and their signature systems. Had he been anyone else, he would've seen the charms of the Nyx Breaker. All he did see was inspiration for a long list he kept in his microchip of questions for the design team that'd built the Nyx Breaker.

  The Nyx Breaker used the body of a centipede for modeling. He'd never heard of that organism until a few months ago when he observed anatomic diagrams. Watching all those legs wriggle…

  He shivered. Why did his work keep necessitating him to see things he didn't want to?

  The Titan's body shifted and undulated in hundreds of meters of scutumsteel framing and plating. The thick exterior hid a long line of compartments, each dedicated to different tasks. A WAV garage and boarding checkpoint occupied the Titan's mouth.

  It was a risky choice. But if an Aud ever fought its way aboard from the front, there would be dozens of pilots ready to meet it. Ze-4 wouldn't contest the viability of the First's contingencies as readily as others. Absurd situations were better accounted for than not.

  Behind that was a staggered line of storage compartments. Among them, aside from other spaces, were dormitories, mess halls, and generator housing units. The two most important places on the Titan came next. The echo room and the command compartment.

  The design team had lovingly nicknamed the Nyx Breaker's signature system during testing. Should he feel any surprise that the servicemen who ended up operating it would keep it going?

  The echo room fulfilled one of the Nyx Breaker's unique functions. All of the Titans had a role that each fulfilled. The Anthill was a mobile WAV garage. The Jackal played with the Aud's sensory stimuli and acted like a general pain in the neck. The latest to join them? Number nine was a scout and a sneak.

  It thumped the ground, utilizing surface wave obstacle detection to determine what lay ahead. It could do that for kilometers in all directions. Its thousands of legs absorbed the returning seismic tremors and transferred them to the main body.

  Once converted into data, the echo room received them to interpret them as diagrams and maps. Already, they had dodged some Aud by testing the feature.

  He passed by it on his way to his destination, the command compartment. His abode. His entry didn't go unnoticed, but no one stopped for a salute. Good. They were in enemy territory. There wasn't time for silly distractions and pointless shows of respect.

  'If they really knew me, would I need to worry about them ever wanting to show respect at all?'

  Several raised platforms occupied the center of the compartment. Each housed dozens of techs and engineers running back and forth while others operated consoles. There were so many parts a behemoth of technology like this needed controlling, after all.

  He dodged by an engineer half-blinded by the racks of microchips they carried and began the climb. In here, the flare of irritation felt repressed. Insignificant. He didn't think he would've reacted as badly as he might've in another compartment if they'd collided.

  Stairs would've taken up too much space, so each platform was accessible via ladders. He came to the apex and began the next climb. The next, and the next. Fewer and fewer personnel were on the higher platforms.

  Finally, he came to the top. His aide was already there, fiddling with the sitesman's command console.

  "Have the analysts found a likely path to start down yet? We should get moving before we're noticed."

  Re-5 nodded, expanding the projected screen hovering above the table-length console. "I can't say they haven't done their best, but for now, all we have is a vague westward direction. Our suspected survivors' origin signals lead straight to the Gaiss Hollow's edge."

  "We're moving along the Hollow's walls? Which way?"

  Her smile thinned. She might've tutted under her breath. He hadn't listened attentively enough to be certain. "That's not it, sir. When the analysts said west, they meant all the way. We need to follow the survivors into the greater tunnels."

  Ze-4 gave her a hard look, wondering if his aide was trying to joke. No. She didn't strike him as the type. The chance that he'd want to find another position to transfer away to after this was still growing. It was hard, not sighing while he approached her and his station. Of course they were.

  He wanted to hit something.