Furnace (Hunter-Killer #1)

Chapter 39 - Beyond the Horizon

It was the quiet that Ryke noticed first, the strange, void-like absence of thunder in Brekka's air. For days on end he had lived with the constant falling of shells, the bellow of engines and the screams of Scraegan furnace cannons.

Now there was nothing. Instead the low grumble of idling Hunter-Killer reactors mixed gently with heavy, snorting breaths of the massed Scraegan forces. The clatter of shifting masonry echoed through the streets, punctuated by licking embers that served as reminders of the carnage that had been unfolding on this very spot less than an hour ago.

As far as Ryke's ears were concerned it was bliss.

Word had passed ahead of their convoy to try and bring the fighting to a lull. The defending units dwindled down their fire, making no further effort to dislodge their attackers and trying simply to keep their distance. The Scraegan forces, while not stopping their assault outright, had seemed confused by the sudden slackening off from Brekka's defenders.

The skirmishing didn't full come to a halt, however, until the priest unleashed a bellow that even through the Hunter-Killer's audio filters made him wince with the volume. A long, undulating roar, it rose into the air, carving through the din of battle with ease and wavering in pitch at regular intervals. The call repeated three times as they marched on, the Scraegan clearly attempting to communicate with its brethren on the battlefront.

At first Ryke wondered if already they were being betrayed; if he had made a catastrophic misjudgement and the priest was only exhorting its people to fight all the harder. But then the sounds of battle slowly petered away and stunned reports trickled back from the front lines.

The Scraegan push had ground to a halt. In the positions they had carved the advancing packs finally halted, hunkering down and waiting. Ryke didn't actually believe it until they finally emerged onto the immense transit junction that led to the Forge and he saw it with his own eyes – the two sides staring each other down over the war-torn stretch of hell that both sides sought to secure.

Despite the relative quiet now the broad intersection where half a dozen main roads converged was a war zone in every sense. The ground beneath the feet of his mech had been shattered to rubble – even rebuilding the roads in the city would take months of work. Bodies were everywhere, littering the cratered graveyard of no mans land in the middle of the intersection. Huge, shaggy corpses mixed with the pulverised remains of militia soldiers, broken skiff carcasses and the occasional hulk of mangled metal that marked a dead Hunter-Killer.

But at least they'd stopped shooting at each other. In the front rank of the honour guard Ryke let his Hunter-Killer's enhanced optics scan the line of blasted buildings and trench works that the Scraegans currently occupied. Within Brekka's walls their digging abilities had been largely negated, the thick concrete and metal foundations of the city, as well as the tangles of pipes and power distribution cables making such tunnelling almost impossible.

Instead they'd resorted to more conventional warfare, and although a departure from their normal tactics, the evidence of their brutal adaptability was everywhere. A full minute trickled past in the grim quiet, like the holding of a breath before plunging underwater as the two sides surveyed each other, enemy to enemy – soldier to soldier.

"Alright, Sergeant," Reaver's voice said through the comm, making Ryke jump in his cockpit.. The Hunter-Killer commander was off to their right flank, having been dug in defending the vital intersection with his squad. "I think it's show time."

"Yes, sir." Ryke nodded, flexing his metal jaw nervously. "Sir?"

"Go ahead."

"If... if this goes wrong-,"