BEACHHEAD

The blast wave tore through the tunnel with a thunderous roar. Will, ears ringing, clung to the ramp railing as the crush of bodies surged around him. Plascrete dust rained from the ceiling in a gray sheet, obscuring his HUD.

"Becca?!" he yelled into the comms.

"Here!" Becca gasped.

"Remy!"

"Still alive!" Remy choked.

Before the dust could settle, a strong voice boomed through the tunnel.

"Steady, men!" Faris roared. The merc leader's gunmetal mech lit up, radiating power. Even through the haze, its form shone like a miniature sun—a corona of searing light that pushed debris and dust aside.

"Shields front! Form up and climb!" he commanded. "We take the exit or stay buried down here!"

"Move! Move!"

The troops surged up the ramp. Metal clanged beneath their boots as Will joined the rush. As they neared the breach, gunfire erupted, punctuated by sporadic explosions. The sounds of battle grew louder as Will approached the top of the ramp. A cone of white light streamed through the borehole, cutting the dark haze as he climbed toward it.

Another explosion shook the tunnel as he reached the top—and then he was outside.

Chaos greeted him.

"Hold the line! Return fire!" an NCO bellowed. A hail of rounds hammered the edge of the shaft until an officer deployed a heavy shield, its plates snapping open with a hiss. The rest followed, slamming metal panels together into a wall of steel.

Will scrambled forward and joined the formation. More plates joined the expanding shield wall, and Will snapped shots through narrow gaps. Downrange, the enemy convoy had fanned their haulers across the avenue, massive trucks forming a barricade. The gray-uniformed workers, their masks of humanity stripped away, poured machine-gun fire with relentless ferocity.

Will ducked as a round tore past his helmet; the impact rattled his shield so hard it nearly folded.

"Shit!"

Two pairs of armored boots thudded beside him; Remy and Becca had joined the fray.

"Damn it!" Remy snarled, firing down the street. "The ambush is botched! How did they find us?"

"Shut up and shoot!" Will barked, sending two precise rounds downrange. One struck a gray-uniformed man squarely between the eyes; the figure dropped instantly.

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Faris's booming voice cut through the comms: "Hold fast! Close the gaps! Hold strong until the last man clears the breach!"

Will risked a glance back. The troops were still streaming out of the tunnel, and the wave didn't look like it would stop any time soon. They would have to hold until everyone made it out.

"What a terrible position! We are sitting ducks!!" Remy shouted as he reloaded. "We can't hold this line forever!"

Will grimaced, tracking a cyborg silhouette moving near the haulers. He fired a burst, forcing it back into cover. A loud crack came from his shield plate as the enemy squad returned fire. The wall around them was creaking—plates groaning, bolts straining.

"Steady!" Faris yelled. "Interlock shields and press forward!"

Will, Remy, and Becca heaved against the metal plates, inching them up the road. The expanding circle gave the troops behind them more breathing room as the flow from the tunnel continued.

Another sharp crack split the shield plates. Cursing, Will adjusted his grip and glanced back. Troopers clawed their way up in wave after wave, but it was a coin toss whether they'd all make it. The shield wall was deteriorating fast under the heavy bombardment. They couldn't hold much longer. Things were getting desperate.

This was never supposed to happen. The ambush was meant to trap the Revenant, not the other way around. How had they been tipped off?

A deafening crack split the air. Will swore as the panel to his left blew apart in a spray of shrapnel. Splinters lanced his shoulder as the plate canted, and the mech behind the now-defunct shield stood defenseless.

An explosion followed as the mech took a round square in the chest. Heavy-caliber fire struck like sledgehammers, caving its chest plate; the mech came crashing down.

"Man down!"

"Cover the wall!"

The squad reacted instantly—dragging the fallen mech away while others slammed replacement plates into the gap. The wall held, barely.

"How many more?" Remy shouted over the gunfire.

Will checked the exit. The flow had thinned to a trickle. "Almost clear!" he yelled.

They held for a few more heart-stopping seconds as the last members of the Belgrave Guard made their exit. Just as the last man cleared, orders barked through.

"Last squad out! Clear the avenue! Alpha through Charlie, left flank! Delta through Echo, right! Move! Move!"

The squads split and sprinted for cover along both sides of the street, hugging utility buildings and shattered walls.

The enemy convoy hesitated at the sudden maneuver, then adjusted fire. Bullets pinged off Will's shield, but the barrage thinned. With the buildings taking the worst of it, the mercs could finally move.

Faris's voice boomed across the channel once more, rallying the troops for another push. Will could barely hear it over the pounding in his skull. His heart beat loud enough to drown out the world as he stared at the looming convoy ahead—a wall of steel and fire.

"Form up! Form up!" Faris cut through the noise. "This is it, men! Malhama is upon us! Brush aside these rabble and take that convoy! No machine scum is going to take down our platoon!"

The troopers answered with a raw, rising shout. Energized by the rallying cry, the mercs roared as one, raining fire down on the convoy.

Will, too, was swept up in the frenzy as he fired downrange. He felt something shift within himself. It was rising. Rising steadily, building to a crescendo.

"Break them! Break them until they see the gates of hell!" boomed Faris.

Psionic power sparked alive inside Will, surging through his channels like molten iron. His field solidified, wrapping him in waves of cascading energy; every word Faris uttered hammered it into shape.

"Forward! Onward! We will take down this convoy even if it is the last thing we do! Now, charge!"

A roar answered. Will, Remy, and Becca rose as one. Will's sight narrowed to a tunnel of purpose. Every shout, every blast, fed the pressure inside him until it became a blade at his back. He had no thought left but the pull forward.

Shields locked, servos screaming, they charged.

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