Myer's voice soon punched through the comms.
"Yeah, I read you Grim. What happened to Hangman?
"Gone. I'm acting C.O. for now."
"Unfortunate."
"How many of us are left?"
"Only Stray and Pilsen are with me sir," Myers replied, his voice flat and hollow. "The rest were taken out by Caller units… heard chatter about some kind of anti–M.T. artillery before they were killed."
Silence settled over the channel until another voice crackled in.
"What's the play here, Grim?" Pilsen asked. Her tone sounded cool as always, but the labored breathing beneath it gave out her exhaustion.
"We can't go airborne," I said. "Too much anti-air in the AO, that there might also be a High class caller in the northeastern ridge, We need to make it to an outpost on foot."
I pulled up the map on my HUD. We were deep in the forests of Sector Delta-4. Behind us, Delta-2A and Delta-3 had already fallen with enemy pressure pushing south through the river corridor and east along the cliffs.
The northern mountain ridge was no better, it was crawling with higher-class Caller units, locked in a grinding stalemate with our outposts which made resupply impossible.
That left only one route.
West, to Delta-5.
"Think we should risk cutting through their outpost in Delta-2A and head through the river?"
Myers broke into my thoughts. "No Callers on site last I checked we could take it. Easy."
"Is killing all you ever think about?" Pilsen shot back. "We're a stealth unit, and we're not even cleared for this sector. Callers or not, they've got heavy artillery and people. Unless you're volunteering to be the next M.T. turned into scrap, be my guest."
"I agree with Pilsen, my movement thrusters are damaged. Engaging carelessly would be… unwise."
"Figures," Myers muttered.
The comms went dry for a few moments which allowed me to try and analyze the situation further.
At our current position, the nearest allied outpost was eight miles west. Traveling on foot meant threading through multiple enemy patrols, and with our limited resources, we wouldn't make it far. Staying put wasn't an option either with reinforcements sweeping the sectors soon with Callers, hunting for the artifact.
There had to be something I was missing.
"I have a suggestion" Stray's deep voice chimed in. "I heard from a local that there were silver mines in this region that we could use to traverse through the mountain."
"A local? How'd you manage to get that out of them?" Pilsen chimed in
"I asked nicely" Stray replied with an ominous chuckle "Don't think he was lying either."
"You can't be serious Stray, that's Errata territory" Myers argued.
"What, scared a few lost souls might start chewing on your metal coffin?" Pilsen shot back. "We're not human. They won't bother us."
"You know my deal with those things." Myers snapped back
"Enough," I cut in. "Both of you—quiet."
"…Aside from the obvious overhead cover once we're inside, I've heard the mines were constructed using M.T.s before the war," Stray continued.
"Inside, sure," Myers cut in. "But the way there is completely exposed, besides the shaft there will be no hard cover, or concealment. If we're spotted before we reach the entrance, we're trapped in a kill zone."
"That's true," Stray admitted, "but it's likely that there are less human enemies operating in an area with no light. Once we breach the shafts, we can disappear into the tunnels. It's still too early in the morning for them to move their entire force. And even then, it's unlikely they'd follow us underground."
"Unlikely doesn't mean impossible," I added. "Not when we're carrying something they want back."
Pilsen exhaled slowly. "I'd still take that risk, you'd be surprised how scared they are of the dark. Besides, I doubt they'd deploy a Caller on the ground this early. Tanks, maybe but not a Caller that would be too much of a risk."
Stray pressed on. "And if we make it inside, we could repurpose some of the old equipment into weapons. So what do you say, Grim?"
"It's a reckless plan with too many unknowns but you did give me an idea."
I paused for a moment, Faust's warning about a mage was still fresh in the back of my mind.
"This is more a hunch than a proposal, but judging by how Hangman went down, I'm betting they've got a good sniper dug in along the north eastern ridge. I think that the mines are our best option. Reaching them is the problem. That's where Myers and I come in."
"Me?" Myers cut in over comms. "What exactly am I supposed to do?"
"The plan's simple. Stray and Pilsen recon the mines and report whether a patrol's in the area. If there's no platoon, we move immediately and go underground." I shifted my hud's map eastward and marked a location near the cliffside. "If a platoon is present, me and Myers will ambush a convoy and drag their attention this way. Once they commit, we break contact, reroute, and link back up at the mines."
"Alright, that sounds good on paper." Pilsen replied with a lower voice, "But how do you plan on making the other patrols notice your little escapade?"
"We trigger the black box's distress signal on purpose."
Silence.
"You can't be serious, the whole army will be on top of us in minutes!" Pilsen immediately argued.
"I know, which is why we'll use the human's curse to our advantage. Once we take down the convoy's vehicles we shut down the remaining straggler's lights turning them into Errata."
Stray cuts in "I see, so when reinforcements arrive it'll just cause more chaos."
Myers almost chuckled, "Well I'm just hoping you know how to get us out of that mess."
"Are you still carrying spare smokes?"
"Enough," Myers replied without hesitation.
"We'll use them to mask the break to the cliff side, we'll rappel, move to a quieter face and climb out."
I paused. "So any more questions?"
"No, sir," the Bandit Unit answered as one. No one argued. No one needed to anymore.
"I'm uploading rendezvous coordinates for both objectives. Myers, you'll also receive the extraction point, Grim out."
From a kneeling posture, I lowered my M.T. onto all fours and initiated a low-profile sprint. I moved through the woods in a quadrupedal gait, the actuators underneath my armor cycling in controlled sequences designed to minimize noise and surface disruption.
Each step was calculated and adjusted in real time to avoid clear tracks among the shattered trees and churned earth but no matter how careful I was, the forest still resisted.
Branches scraped along my armor, and my tail snagged repeatedly in the undergrowth, tripping minor resistance alerts that pulsed at the edge of my vision. I compensated automatically though, the movements felt smoother than they should have, as if the corrections were being made a fraction of a second before I consciously issued them.
I told myself it was muscle memory, buried training and genetic engineering surfacing under pressure. Still, the sensation lingered, as though something or someone was guiding me through the terrain, anticipating each obstacle before I could.