The last stalactites were thin enough for the northern horde to crash through. A flood of white and orange released into the arena in a tumble of jagged stone and catapulted fur. Like all things Aud, it was terrifying and awe-inspiring to watch one wave spill out, then another larger and more terrible crushing it.
Emboldened by the appearance of new kin, the grounded survivors to the south called out and charged with renewed vigor, their injuries suddenly not as lethal as before. The falling Aud didn't have much else to do, so they echoed it, even while shot down in a hail of rounds and beams.
Strained could describe their predicament, but dire fit better. A quarter of the turrets broke fire, twisted in their sockets, and resumed, the staccato recoils shortening. Not by choice, but by necessity. The time came: the pincer move enveloped them.
There were no delusions in Re-5's head that they could kill the accumulated horde. The southern stragglers were yet to finish climbing; this wasn't even the entirety of the enemy! The second an Aud got close enough to bite and scratch the Nyx Breaker–even the most insignificant segment, or a surface module–the situation would become hopeless.
Because they could see how the Aud worked. Cut down one, and there would be another. Rinse. Repeat. This basic mantra didn't account for the severity of injury each tier could withstand. But they were cutting down plenty; no one in the command compartment could deny that.
Individual rounds and beams broke the air with sheer force, and dozens upon dozens buried into hole-ridden, charred animals each second. They needed more than a thousand emplacements. They needed ten times that, bare minimum, to decimate the horde's numbers.
As things stood, they could hold out for–all calculations went out one ear from another development. To the northeast, a line of Aud expressed abnormal behavior. They grabbed the corpses of their kin and held them in front. The line of bodies dragged across the ground might've been the most disturbing thing Re-5 saw during the skirmish.
Treating the dead like meat shields was an incredibly successful venture for the Aud. They became near stationary to the targeting programs, but what did pumping dozens of successful hits into a marked target when that target was already dead?
Others at the front of the charge copied those Aud without delay. If there was one thing the Aud had that the humans didn't, it was bodies. No matter if it were dead, or one that collapsed and clung to life by a thread, the Aud continued advancing, dragging prone masses of fur into place.
She grabbed her officer running by. "I can't find any records of this in my library. Yours?"
His HUD was of lesser and older make, but they should've had access to a similar amount of information considering they shared a common rank until recently. His head shake radiated the confusion and quiet unease holding her tight.
"It's something new, sir. I'll recruit some techs to record what they can."
She released him, drawn back to the command console. Inputing a few changes in the firing patterns, she directed the crew to refocus most of their firepower back on the falling Aud. The bastards up there couldn't use their dead as shields. Some relief that was.
This left the assembling horde unchallenged. Or so it seemed. The front was bold or stupid enough–she didn't care which–to abandon their shields and charge forward, overtaking the others. There were the cautious exceptions, but like the green pinpricks, they were too few.
Her smile tightened. They would extort and abuse their smallest advantages, and human intelligence was by no means a small advantage. The turrets swung back, striking the Aud with the burning, bone-shattering realization that they had left behind the safety of the horde and the body shields.
But that was just the start. Aud were pack animals. Threaten one, and they all came forth. And that was exactly what happened. The rest abandoned their protections, joining the stampede. How quaint. The enemy discovered a new method to wage warfare. If not for their instincts, the crew would be in trouble before long. Her lips curled in disgust.
They covered ground at a swift pace and lost numbers. The total still alive was insurmountable, but a final surprise hid under the Nyx Breaker's armor. The gunnery crews only employed two emplacement types to repel the Aud, and a series of conditions were just met to bring a third into play.
Packed targets presented themselves. There were more than she could count, so many that the autonomous intelligences experienced brief lags when running their simulations. And they were closer than they had been before. Much closer. This would be a death sentence in any other circumstance.
One lesson the Aud needed to learn was that no matter how skewed these encounters seemed, humanity was never helpless in close ranges. After all, the cornered animal tends to bite the hardest.
In a moment that lasted longer than it had any right to, she savored the order on her tongue.
"Activate the launchers."
So far, hundreds of hatches remained closed, displaying empty mounts. This wasn't because they were holding electrics and sonics in reserve. If there ever was a place for that, it wasn't here. Every electric they had was channeling a third of the Titan's explosive output, and the sonics only quieted when their belts ran empty.
But there was no reason to hold back any further. With an almost palpable presence, they opened, and another turret rose from each of them. Sleek, yet bulkier to accommodate the larger load, one of the launchers was enough to inspire unease in any direction it pointed. Not only were there hundreds of them coming to bear in every direction an Aud so much as breathed, they scaled up to fit on a Titan.
The barrels chambered a cylinder in unison. They picked a marker in unison and fired. The unassuming containers sailed far, screaming above before arching. Some struck Aud like sonic munitions, some rolled between rubble and bodies, Aud all around.
The Aud didn't pause to contemplate the new addition to the arena. They rushed right past, until every canister was deep within the masses. And while another wave of cylinders launched, those on the ground contracted, metal casings creaking with untapped payloads.