"Fatty is down. Coordinates 1045.2207. Landing zone is secure. All callsigns, rally on me."

  Fatty. It was the callsign Jack had inevitably been assigned. He'd told Captain Rashid he'd prefer "Hero," but Rashid had just laughed and said that after seeing his performance at High Command, "Fatty" was the more honest option. The Company had unanimously agreed.

  As the first man on the ground, Jack's job was to secure the LZ. It was a bullshit tradition that the deputy commander always took point, the most senior officer in the most dangerous position. Jack spat a mouthful of bile onto the damp earth as his mech's cockpit hissed open. The air was wet and smelled of decay. Above him, the sky was filled with the roar of thrusters as the rest of the Company descended, their forms like metal angels falling from a steel heaven. Each massive machine, dropping like a stone, fired its thrusters at full power about fifty meters from the ground, a reverse shockwave kicking up a hurricane of dirt and leaves as it brought the mech to a soft, controlled landing.

  These were the best toys the Terran Commonwealth had to offer. First Company was equipped with three main classes of seventh-generation mechs. The bulk of the force, seventy-seven machines, were "Paladin Vanguard" class mechs—agile, heavily armored bipedal units that could punch well above their weight. Captain Rashid himself piloted a custom command variant, the "Paladin Command," identical to the one Grant used.

  Supporting them were two "Stinger" class mechs, quadrupedal, reverse-jointed machines bristling with antennae and ECM pods. They were the electronic warfare specialists, capable of jamming enemy comms and frying their sensors. For heavy fire support, they had four "Juggernaut" class mechs—five-man mobile fortresses armed with artillery, missile pods, and enough armor to withstand a direct orbital strike.

  And then there was Jack's ride. They had offered him a brand-new Paladin. He had refused. So, standing among the fleet of state-of-the-art war machines was his custom-built, hundred-year-old piece of junk, "Thor." The rest of the Company thought he was either the bravest man alive or a complete fucking lunatic.

  Jack's eyes were glued to his scanners. The forest was quiet. Too quiet. He knew this pristine silence wouldn't last. The moment their transport was detected, this whole sector would be swarming with Imperial mechs. They had about ten minutes to clear the drop zone.

  The Company assembled with the swift, silent professionalism of veteran soldiers. Two minutes after he'd landed, Jack's console chimed. All eighty-four mechs were present and accounted for. He transferred tactical command to Rashid.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "First Company, move out!" Rashid's voice crackled over the comms. The formation broke apart, melting into the jungle in a fluid, serpentine column.

  Their target was a black spot on the satellite maps, fifty kilometers to the west—a dead zone completely hidden by powerful sensor jammers. It was situated between two besieged Commonwealth cities, with a major highway running alongside it. Intel believed it was a makeshift Imperial airbase or a hidden missile silo complex, possibly both. The temptation to send a special recon company to poke it with a sharp stick was too great for High Command to resist.

  Jack, however, had a bad feeling churning in his gut. An airbase or a missile silo would have had patrols swarming the perimeter. Their landing had been completely unopposed. Something was wrong.

  They moved fast. Ten kilometers from the target, Third Platoon, led by Lieutenant Jason, broke off to establish a rearguard and rally point. One Stinger and one Juggernaut detached with them. The rest of the Company pressed on without pausing.

  They were now inside the jammer's effective range. From here on, they were blind, deaf, and alone. Jack, along with three other Paladins, took the point position, slipping ahead of the main force. It was his job to clear the path.

  And this is where the magic happened.

  The mech that had clanked and wheezed and spewed black smoke in the safety of the base was gone. In the darkness of the jungle, "Thor" became a different animal entirely. It moved with a silent, fluid grace, its footsteps making no more noise than a falling leaf. The other pilots, following in its wake, were mesmerized. The piece of junk moved like a stalking panther, its dilapidated form somehow blending into the shadows of the forest. They had to strain their sensors just to keep from losing it.

  As they moved deeper, Jack's own custom-built systems came to life. He led them on a winding, counter-intuitive path, his instincts, honed by thirteen desperate escapes, guiding him. A soft ping on his console. An enemy presence. Hidden.

  Jack didn't alert the others. He raised his mech's right arm. A section of the forearm slid open, revealing not a laser or a cannon, but a thin, needle-like projector. There was no sound, no flash of light, just a faint shimmer in the air. Half a klick ahead, inside a hollowed-out tree, the body of an Imperial sentry slumped forward, his internal organs flash-boiled by a silent, focused blast of heavy particles. Jack's secret weapon, the "Needle Gun," was a despicable, brilliant piece of work.

  He took out three more hidden sentry posts in the same silent, brutal fashion. The soldiers following him had no idea. They only knew that their path, which should have been a death trap, was unnervingly clear.

  They were now one kilometer from the target. Jack's radar finally picked up an active patrol: a single Imperial "Stalker" class mech and a squad of infantry, moving parallel to the base's perimeter wall. In ten minutes, their paths would intersect.

  The base itself was still dark. Silent. No flight operations. No engine noise. This wasn't an airfield.

  Jack brought "Thor" to a halt. He raised his mech's arm high and made a clenched fist, the universal signal to halt and take cover. As the rest of the Company melted into the shadows around him, he transferred tactical command back to Captain Rashid.

  It was time for the real soldiers to make the decisions.

  After a full minute of tense silence, the command came through on their encrypted channel. It was a single, chilling word from Rashid.

  "Attack."