Twenty minutes later, Lanis feels the subtle pull of deceleration, followed by the sensation of being lowered. Then a shudder, as Hex meets the earth with a gentle thud.

  After a few seconds, the voice of Cauldron Oversight hisses through the pod’s comms. “Pilots, you have arrived at your start zone. Prepare for Suit on-switch in T-minus five minutes.”

  Lanis cracks each finger in turn, and then slowly rotates her neck against the clinging fabric of her pilot suit. She whispers a portion of an Old English poem, and then moves on to Latin. Ether watches beside her silently.

  Remind me to keep translations of Beowulf and The Iliad handy next time, Ether dryly remarks, rolling her grey eyes.

  “I thought they’d only be appropriate, given the occasion,” Lanis responds, smirking. She was taught them in the Academy as well—they aren’t as useful for Warp navigation as the religious mantras, but there’s still something steadying in them, and she was told that the Insertion Unit pilots often recited long segments as they were dropped into combat. Guess I’m a real pilot now, she thinks, flexing her hands. She wonders what her old Academy classmates would say if they could see her now; Navigation cadet to Arena pilot isn’t exactly a common career progression. She wonders if some day, somehow, they’ll hear about this.

  Another hiss: “Cauldron Oversight to pilots, prepare for Suit on-switch in one minute.”

  Lanis’ breathing is measured—deep inhalations through her nose, slow exhalations out through pursed lips. She feels Ether latch onto the odd thoughts that bubble out of her subconscious despite her meditative whispers, examining and echoing each one in turn.

  Do you think Mirem will manage to stay up all night?

  “Thirty seconds,” Oversight says.

  I wonder if Lieutenant Tran will be watching.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

  Does the Demeter ever think about me?

  “... six, five, four, three…”

  No, you definitely won’t have a panic attack. After all, I’m here.

  “... two, one…”

  It’s like being born.

  Twenty-five tons of inanimate metal and composites spring to life as the pilot pod’s HUD blossoms in a glittering array of green. A wave of information engulfs Lanis—a non-integrated mind would at least need a moment to blink—but she, with Ether, is near-instantaneously aware of the Suit’s status, each layer of information sorted by priority within their integrated minds.

  They’ve been deposited in an open area—perhaps some sort of plaza, before it became disintegrated by Unification War fighting—surrounded by half-crumbled five-story apartment blocks on every side. Ether is already comparing the surrounding topography to a map of the city, and it’s only a split-moment before she has their precise location.

  Here!

  A segment of Lanis’ mind zooms in on the map. They haven’t been dropped in the worst area, but it also certainly isn’t the best: it’s closer to the center of the city, which, given the roughly equal distribution of suits that the Cauldron promises, means that four other Suits are within a mile of their location.

  The nearest subway entrance is about half that.

  Right over there: map point set!

  The Versk Suit springs forward with its spider-like gait. They hug the edge of the street, Hex’s mottled grey-and-black legs mostly avoiding crunching down on the husks of cars and transport vehicles that litter the road in rusted, malformed heaps.

  Just ahead, only a few hundred meters away, is the curled edge of a large crater. A flicker of Ether’s attention confirms minimal radioactivity.

  The Suit skids to the edge of the crater, old concrete tumbling down into it. Hex’s optics pivot to peer down at the collapsed subway while the Suit’s kinetic rifle spins toward the most likely angle of a potential attack.

  Entry-point identified. And that’s interesting.

  At the bottom of the crater, alongside the twisted remains of an old battle tank, is an odd oblong metallic crate.

  Hex plows down the edge of the crater, legs biting into scattered concrete and dirt, sending up plumes of dust. Its blade retracts briefly as its arm reaches down and deposits the module onto one of its four empty nodes along its back with a satisfying click. They’re in a horribly exposed position, but Ether’s strategic analysis shows that the payoff of getting down here, and getting into the old subway, should be worth the risk.

  Lanis powers Hex’s pedipalp-like digging mechanisms into action, and the Versk Suit begins to attack a portion of the cave in, plowing through the dirt like an especially vicious gopher. Lanis can feel Ether grinning with delight, the fantasy of her basest mining desires finally becoming realized.

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  In less than ten seconds they’re through the hole and into the subway system, dirt and rubble cascading behind them. A scraping kick from one of Hex’s back legs ensures that a bit more concrete separates their newfound lair and the outside world. Then, darkness. Lanis switches Hex’s optics to thermal and night vision.

  That worked… ok? Lanis thinks, scanning the report from the pedipalp diggers.

  Being able to use it mostly on dirt helped, because they’re definitely not at optimal performance, Ether chimes back. Out of the six digging devices, one appears to have already malfunctioned. Not great. I imagine Sander is tearing at his beard right now…

  I’m sure we’ll have words later, Lanis replies, trying not to be concerned with the malfunction. It is what it is. Right now, we need to get away from the mess we’ve made.

  Hex crouches, its bulky form fitting neatly within the tunnel meant for subway transit, and begins shuffling forward, blade and rifle tucked close to its sides.

  Lanis turns her attention to the module they’ve picked up, accessing its data. This appears to be a deployable suppression drone. Ether says, bringing the weapon into Lanis’ mind’s eye. Yes; two-hundred 12 mm rounds. Mostly useful as a very annoying distraction, or an extra pair of eyes.

  Not exactly a missile array, but it’s definitely something.

  Hex continues to lumber forward along a long bend, using intermittently spaced LiDar to scan ahead in the darkness along with its optics. They have their position overlaid on the Cauldron’s map—a glowing dot slowly tracing the arc of the subway tunnel.

  From the outset of the Versk team’s deliberations over their strategy in the Cauldon, there was a strong case to be made for simply hiding, given the format of the competition. Not exactly a strategy that would heap glory on the corp, but perhaps a winning one. However, while such an approach might work for a while, the Versk team strongly suspected that the exclusion zones that Cauldron Oversight is set to announce in one-hour intervals will target mechs who choose this strategy. After all, it’s in the competition’s interest to force a steady stream of engagements.

  So, at the bare minimum, they need to find a decent ambush position. And the subway station ahead seems like an excellent candidate.

  Ambush mode engaged.

  The suit moves at a glacial pace now, each foot stepping with impossible delicacy for a twenty-five ton mech, like a mincing ballerina. Staying in the shadows, Hex slowly peers around the edge of the tunnel.

  God...

  The station is a catacomb. Bodies are littered in small clusters… or what remains of them: bones, jutting out from old synthetic clothing, with luggage still strewn about in the clutching moment of their bearers’ demise. The remnants of an old battle from the Unification War are still apparent: bullet holes pock-mark the station’s tile roof and floor, while chunks have been torn out of the support columns, exposing the rebar beneath. Lanis wonders what came first, the battle, or the citizens of the city trying to hide from the bombardments above.

  Radiation still negligible, Ether breathes. Hope none of their grandkids are watching this.

  Yeah, Lanis responds flatly. I’m not sure any of them had grandkids.

  Hex creeps slightly farther ahead, affording them a better view of the deserted subway station.

  I’m a bit surprised Planetary Admin let this go ahead, given that we’re fighting in a veritable burial ground, Lanis muses. Then again, maybe they want to remind the audience of what life before Fleet and Planetary Admin was like, and what infighting can lead to.

  Lanis is resisting Ether’s urge to start accessing historical data from the era when there’s a rumble from above. A misting cascade of dust shudders down from the ceiling.

  A fight. Right above us, Ether muses. The thudding grows closer, and Hex slowly raises its rifle, legs tensing.

  Suddenly, with a tearing roar of metal cleaving through tile-paned stairs, a mech comes crashing down the long, broad stairwell and into the subway station. It’s a biped, and half of its rifle arm dangles uselessly by its side. Another biped suit is just on its heels, closing in to finish its wounded prey.

  The pursuing mech rushes forward, unfazed by the defender’s extended ARM blade, which crackles to life with a burst of energy. Lanis can see why the attacker is so confident; before it, on its rifle arm, it holds a bluish shield array, which meets the defender’s blade thrust with a deft, negating parry.

  Time to third-party! Ether yells, the tactics dogma of the situation blossoming across their minds.

  Lanis doesn’t have time to register what the odd phrase means before she launches Hex out of its concealment, flinging their just-acquired suppression module pit across the station. The drone unfolds mid-air, clattering to the base of the stairwell and immediately laying into the attacker with thirteen rounds per second, just as Lanis unleashes a second burst from Hex’s kinetic rifle at blindingly close range. If there was anyone alive in the station, they would be both blinded and deafened by the attack.

  The first Suit, already mortally wounded by its pursuer’s last attack, crumples back against the station wall, half of its armor smoldering in blackened chunks, the other half pounded into the station wall. Its attacker turns to face Hex and raises its shield, though not before half a dozen kinetic rifle rounds have already torn across its body.

  Enemy blade arm disabled, engage at close range.

  Hex rushes forward as the enemy mech lurches back, stunned by the ambush and by the rapid rounds of the suppression drone tearing at its back like a swarm of stinging wasps. Still, the opposing suit manages to rattle off a burst of its own rifle, staggering Hex, and a crimson alert blares across Lanis’ HUD:

  Damage: right frontal leg. Re-optimizing gait.

  Hex lunges beneath the enemy suit’s rifle and shield, driving its own activated blade upward with a ripping roar as its legs anchor into the floor. Lanis grits her teeth as she feels Hex’s blade cleave through metal, the vibrating sensations of a Suit’s death blow a thousand times more visceral than any simulation.

  With a heavy crunch, the blade erupts from the other end of the enemy suit, severing its torso and leaving one glittering edge of the enemy Suit’s Adamite pilot pod exposed.

  Lanis gasps, her breath suddenly ragged, a tickle of heat bleeding off of her neural shunt as she watches the opposing biped crumble to the ground in a twitching wreck of metal.

  She can feel Ether’s mad grin. Or is it her own?

  Two down, twenty-seven to go, they think together.