The vanguard emerged from the Nyx Breaker's jaws, emplacements firing before their HUDs could lock onto waiting targets. Beams from the Titan's eyes lit up the surroundings, creating a strobing light show, an effective distraction. All pilots had their visors running with night vision, uncaring for the inevitable drain on their power cores. But for the Aud with eyes adjusted for the dark, it flashed and flickered away, rendering them blind without giving a chance to adjust.
Sonic rounds ruptured the air, some hitting, some missing, but all contributing to the explosive cacophony. Combustion cylinders struck and detonated, spreading inescapable heat that melted past any fur in the way. More senseless noise. The pilots received none of it, their auditory sensors filtered by another subroutine of the HUDs.
The vanguard got one salvo out when the Nyx Breaker's emplacements joined in. The hatches running along its segmented roof opened, and its turrets exposed themselves a second time. Each bent in place and swerved to lock onto the new markers. After the nightmare of creating markers for falling Aud, the targeting programs already did better. No matter how fast the Aud reacted to their presence, they–for once–had the upper hand.
Sonics rained munitions each the size of a serviceman's thigh into the locals, while the cylinder launchers went with a less damaging, but no less effective variety of ammunition. Bursts of light even brighter than the beams burning from the Titan's eyes pierced the tunnel. With increasing speed, the time between each eardrum-rupturing squeal reduced.
Shaped like a corkscrew, the vanguard expanded its ranks as they traveled further from the garage ramp. Behind them, the line of heavy WAVs fired everything they had, most shutting down their shield cores to reserve more power core output for their armaments. The last weight class stayed by the ramp, adding supplementary fire where they could, but staying free of the frontlines.
After passing the prone, mangled remnants of a light WAV–their target, the vanguard held fast. The heavy WAVs filled the gaps in their ranks, switching positions in line. Only then did the light WAVs spread out, filling the bowl formation like water. Some rushed around the enormous sides of the Titan to supply extra visual feeds. They couldn't have a smart Aud sneaking close from a blind spot.
The rest took position behind the vanguard, adding lighter firepower to the defense. Most of the Aud they'd attracted were too close for the Titan's turrets to shoot them down without the vanguard suffering the consequences. This relegated the Nyx Breaker to a supportive role, something it held no specialization for. Even so, none in the command compartment complained.
The tunnel the runner fell in didn't have a high population, but like whenever humans started making noise, that would change. The echo-room didn't have to calibrate its next scans to reveal large movements from both ends of the greater tunnel. Combined, the might they would have to repel wouldn't be greater than a single horde, but Re-5 wasn't interested in sticking around longer than necessary.
Two light WAVs left their duties to approach the wrecked WAV. Directed by their HUDs, one held the suit of armor steady while the other began cutting through. Melee technology wasn't optimal for facing Aud, but cutting through scutumsteel? It was frightening how effective their blades were when it was opposite their purpose.
Every few seconds, one of the techs in the command compartment keyed the two pilots, informing them of some development that always meant the same thing: hurry it up! And they did. One cut as fast as he dared without sawing through flesh mistaken as more metal, the other changed the position of the wreck, sometimes letting the blade descend closer to the body within than he should've.
Finally, they broke through the chest plating. As the two prepared to head down south to rip another chink at the hips, a faint cry escaped.
"...helmet's locking mechanisms are damaged! Rip…"
Without stopping to think, they repositioned, one holding the head in a mixture between a cradle and a headlock, while the other braced his blade against the space under the neck. The blade wound back in its socket and punched forward, ripping through the helmet like teeth through flesh. They pulled away what remained.
"She's conscious!"
"Fantastic! Now rip the rest of it off!"
"The plates covering her–"
"Damnit! Work faster!"
One held the pilot's head delicately while the other started on the back, parting plates with the blade. It began to dull, forcing him to switch to his other arm. The suicide runner–bleary and bloody–wasn't in good condition before they started opening her suit with force. The impacts might kill her before any Aud could break through the vanguard.
"We're being too rough! She's not–"
"She can hold out, or she can die! We're rushing this!"
The suicide runner struggled for consciousness, mumbling nonsense past lips dribbling red. The pilots forced whatever sympathy they held out, turning mechanical and doing their best to ignore how her head rocked with each impact, red leaking free from her orifices. They weren't going slow, but it wasn't quick enough for the vanguard. The tech kept them informed the entire way. Each second spent to crack the armor wasn't free. The vanguard line wasn't weak by any means, but they couldn't hold a candle to the line of Aud emerging from the explosions and darkness to meet them. Even with the ordnance support from the scutumsteel-clad Titan at their backs, the Aud were too vicious.
Cylinders popped off, baking Aud flesh. Electrics charred Aud fur to a crisp, and what they couldn't reach beneath, sonics tenderized and cracked. The distance between the two formations whittled away to nothing. On one side, stalwart men and women in what amounted to tin cans, clad in armor good only for a few direct blows before turning to scrap. On the other, rabid masses of fur, maws, and claws driven by the instinct to hunt, indistinguishable only by color.
On the first melee contact, the vanguard lost two heavy WAVs, swallowed up by the forming horde. The line of defaults sacrificed four of their own to fill the gap. Upon each consecutive collision, spiral blades and supersized fists punching into fur, and maws and barbed flesh hooks sinking into scutumsteel, more of the line surrendered. The onslaught held relentless vigor, Aud pushing and pushing until focused down and slaughtered or they broke through.
For now, at least those that did, didn't pass through the grinder without a scratch. Most missed an eye, patches of fur, or entire limbs. The light WAVs, although not made for the role of cleaning up stragglers, made sure the vanguard wouldn't have to defend their rear and finished what they started every time. Darting in and back like pests, they hammered light blows across those that broke through.
Fresh default WAVs exchanged with those worn down from keeping the hole plugged. It was a pertinent weakness for suits taking a frontline role. The heavy WAVs could contend better with their opponents under their stacked armor plating. It weighed them down, sure, but in a straight-up skirmish with no kiting, those that wore the bigger shield fell last. That should've been true. After the first two, another heavy WAV pilot became the victim of a pile-up. Her comrades heard her screams through their communicators, wincing and turning away. They couldn't do anything but push out and make room for the replacement WAVs to step forward. Another hole opened up, and so they filled it.
The two pilots on rescue duty finally experienced a breakthrough! After cutting down the back, they braced themselves, stood on either side, and pulled the WAV open. It was fortunate they wore light WAVs, and their fine motor control didn't suffer. They pulled the suicide runner out by the gurney--demolished but still strapped to her. Her arms dragged, the arm plates still latched on.
The two took one look and came to a unanimous decision.
"We'll yank the arm plating inside! Go, go, go!" One wrapped his arms around the gurney and pulled the messy suicide runner against his chest plates. He didn't like the fatal amount of blood leaving her orifices.
The other informed their tech of their status. The tech remained professional, but relief colored his tone as he forwarded the development to Re-5's officer. The order to retreat didn't come long after.
Once upon a time, humanity said, "If a fight starts, you finish it." The reasoning behind that logic couldn't be clearer, even in the pitch black of the tunnels. The Nyx Breaker and its crew started this skirmish. Of that, there wasn't any doubt. But now that things entered full swing, they couldn't finish it. Anything larger than a small pack was impossible to kill in one go.
Starting the skirmish was easy. Mounting a proper defense and maintaining it, while harder, was still within an acceptable range of difficulty. But retreat? That couldn't be more complicated and risky, especially with the enemy at their backs the moment they turned away. The formation needed to collapse, letting the momentum of the Aud push them back to the Titan's open garage.
But they faced the same logistics issue as they had when first sortieing: the heavy WAVs were…too heavy. Slow. And they were the first defensive line in the vanguard. If all lines retreated at once, the Aud wouldn't push forward the heavy WAVs; they would simply swallow them up and tear them to shreds and scraps, unable to keep up with the light and default WAVs. Almost a third of the deployed forces were of the heaviest weight class. Suffering so many losses in a single skirmish was unacceptable.
So someone would need to cover their backs. The light WAVs were good at running, and at kiting. Not a standing defense, nor a mobile one. It explained their position in the rear of the coil formation. But the largest part of the WAV force carried by the Nyx Breaker weren't light WAVs. It was the default WAVs. Their generalist design gave them greater survivability. But even Re-5 questioned if it would be enough without the heavies supporting them.
She muttered a silent apology before issuing the order. There wasn't a way to avoid it. Someone had to die.