Chapter 8: Hammer. Anvil. Smash

Amy thought she had been nervous before battles. That had nothing on what she was about to do. She had to tell her team, right after they had comprehensively lost a fight, that their guild leader had seemingly suffered a nervous breakdown, started acting VERY unlike himself, and challenged their hated enemy to show up for another fight the next day. A fight where Reforged was already outnumbered. A fight where some of them would still be carrying damage from the previous battle. A fight where some of them literally couldn’t participate because their machines had been destroyed and wouldn’t be pilotable for several more days.

She had to admit all of that, then follow it up with, “Don’t worry. We have a plan. I just can’t tell you any of it.”

She tried to look at the situation the way she expected her team to look at it.

She wasn’t looking forward to this.

But she had to try.

She opened voice chat. Maybe they would hear the sincerity in her voice. That would be a little harder to convey through text.

“Guys. It looks crazy.

I know.

I actually walked into Elias’s office and asked him if he had lost his damned mind.

Turns out, he hadn’t. He has a plan.

A real good plan. I like it.

I can’t tell you what the plan is until it’s too late for them to stop it. But I can tell you a couple things.

First of all, guild leadership has made a decision. I know a couple of you were worried about your repair bills. Don’t. We have it covered.

Both the ambush and this upcoming one.

We really appreciate the lengths you guys have gone.

And Elias is going to be with us for the battle. He’s going to be on one of the spare accounts.

He’s keeping me in tactical command because he wants everyone to know who is about to help deal the deathblow to this goddamn stupid Crusade.

But he’ll be with us.

Please. Trust me. One more time.

Any questions?”

She held her breath.

And was rewarded seconds later.

<KannonsKompanion> Yeah. Why’d you say so much? All you had to say was you liked the plan and wanted us with you. Let’s break some Blades, A-Bomb.

The chat room exploded in support, both of Amy in general and Kannon’s statement in particular.

Amy felt her breath whoosh out of her. She was suddenly close to tears, gratified by the trust her team was showing her.

“Thanks, guys. We’re going to be an anvil. And the Blades are going to break against us.

I can’t promise you that.

But I KNOW it.

We’ll break them.”

The next day, everyone started watching the clock hours beforehand. Both sides had members so nervous about missing the battle that they wanted to log in far too early.

If Darren and Elias had compared notes beforehand, they would have discovered one thing they agreed on despite all their other differences.

“We need you there at the appointed time. Not too long before. Definitely not after. Don’t worry. If you’re there on time, you won’t miss a thing.”

It didn’t make the waiting any easier.

About a half-hour before the appointed time, the first Reforged units started to log on and make their way toward the base that was going to be the focal point for the showdown.

Tentatively at first, as if they expected the Blades to pop out of the hills and start the battle early.

But those fears faded. They started forming up on their platoon leaders, and once the platoons were together, they made their way to Amy.

As a group, they ambled toward the battlefield.

Amy told them the rest of the plan along the way. She didn’t care if the Blades learned about it at that point. The operation had passed the point of no return for them.

Her force loved the idea.

They especially loved the idea of the carnage that was about to happen.

Mostly to the Blades.

It validated their trust in their commander.

The Blades had scouts out. That wasn’t a shock. Failing to confirm that Reforged was actually heading toward the battlefield they had chosen would have been insanely stupid.

The scouts kept a respectful distance. They didn’t want to get in the way. That would be dangerous to one’s health.

One scout got close enough to make a semi-accurate count of the Reforged force. About twenty active WarMACs. That matched what the Blades believed was Reforged’s total effective strength on the planet.

He reported the count to leadership.

Then he looked at his radar and froze.

He had strayed well into Reforged’s missile range.

There were no thoughts. Except one.

Oh shit.

He mentally prepared to have his WarMAC shot out from under him.

Again.

But ... they didn’t.

The WarMAC he had designated as the probable force commander based on prior scouting reports had turned to face him.

But it didn’t fire.

Instead, it made an odd gesture.

Did they ... actually ... just wave at me?

The scout wasn’t going to question his good fortune. He quickly put his WarMAC into reverse and backed out of range.

Then a chivalric impulse washed over him.

He returned the wave.

The force commander’s WarMAC made a herky-jerky up-and-down motion that he interpreted as an acknowledging nod, then continued on its way.

He started breathing again.

I’ll tell you what, that does not feel like a commander marching their force into a battle where they’re outnumbered, outgunned, and out-supplied.

He thought about warning Hugo and the rest of the leadership team.

Then he decided against it.

Defeatism. Insufficient agreement with the righteousness of the Crusade and the inevitability of their victory.

Those had proven to be dangerous accusations in recent days.