Year 248 P.L. Rychter Calendar
Coordinates: 42.1°S; 11.6°E
Site Designation: Badlands Liaison Post
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In a screwed up kind of way, it was just like old times.
Ryke let loose a spray of fire from his cannon, aiming high and bringing a column of shattered stone crashing down in front of the onrushing Scraegan pack. He could see the Alpha's huge mass stomping through the gloom in the background, shepherding the even larger silhouette of the priest away from the fighting.
Small mercies that he didn't have to fight those two. At least, not yet.
"Defensive pairings!" Ryke thundered through the comm. "Avalanche, Two-Step, suppressing volleys on our flanks." He spat another burst of cannon fire. A searing furnace-cannon bolt whipped overhead in response, sending heat alarms blaring through the Hunter-Killer.
"How far you wanna take this, boss?" Preese asked as he sent a Scraegan reeling with a thunderous punch from his mech's metal gauntlet. "They're playing for keeps right now."
"Drown in all," Ryke muttered, before opening the comm again. "Do what you've got to do, people." He accented his words by surging forward and smashing his shoulder shield hard into an onrushing Scraegan, sending the brute tumbling backwards.
A gun emplacement further back in the crags raked the Scraegan line with explosive shells, buying them a few precious moments, before a flurry of furnace-cannon blasts reduced the cupola of rock to ashes.
The war's back on.
Bitter frustration coiled in his guts. Had they really come this close only to have the whole thing undone by one random act of violence? He couldn't bring himself to believe it would end like this. Peace gone forever.
"Vannigan, do you read me?"
Lieutenant Brackenshaw's voice snapped him out of those grim thoughts. Twisting, he moved in close behind the mech of Landis 'Headstone' Garrett, watching the rookie pilot's back as they edged forward to keep the Scraegans at bay.
"Reading you, loud and clear," he snapped, twisting his mech to avoid the blare of another furnace blast. It whipped by him, screaming across the base until it smashed into an empty truck, the blast flipping the heavy vehicle end over end.
"Situation?"
"Full engagement," Ryke barked back, his eyes flickering across the HUD. Red indicators blistered across the arc in front of the Hunter-Killer line. "Two full packs. We lost our the infantry gunners in the first salvo."
"Copy. Everybody who's still in one piece is loading up and bugging out, but we need more time."
"How much time?"
"Five minutes. Long range seismics have three more Scraegan packs on approach – that's how long we've got till they get here."
"You think you can get everyone out?"
"Let me worry about that. Just do what you do, and when five minutes are up you haul your rigs out of there. We'll be waiting to cover your fallback. Brackenshaw out."
"What happens to anyone still around after five minutes?" Qadira asked.
"Guess they're not getting out," Scantlin muttered grimly.
Ryke gritted his teeth. "Maybe we can bloody some noses to buy a bit of space, eh? Lockjaw-Valley?"
"Go ahead, Lockjaw."
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Hellsky (Hunter-Killer #3)
الخيال العلميAfter decades of all out war between human and Scraegan, the planet Rychter has finally settled into an uneasy peace. Both sides can rebuild, lick their wounds, and for the first time try to coexist. But the war isn't over for everyone. Without the...
