Hellsky (Hunter-Killer #3)

Chapter 06 - Short Straws

Ryke's holiday lasted a grand total of 35 hours.

Just long enough for him to put the incident with the protestors out of his mind, and the squad seemed to have forgotten it too. No bickering, no fighting, just the usual good-natured wrestling and ribbing that followed the Hunter-Killers.

Outside the main pilot barracks in Stamm Basin, he lounged in the toasting evening sun, sipping at a canteen of lasher and grinning at the screen of the data slate. On it Ivy's smiling face loomed large, lying on her front on her bunk.

She looked tired, but satisfied, her brown hair hanging in a loose tangle about her face after the days exertions. In the background he could dimly make out the moving shapes of other expedition members in the makeshift sleeping quarters.

"So, you getting used to being out of the sun yet?" he asked.

"Don't think I'll ever get used to that," she chuckled. "It's cold and it's dark – Scraegans can keep it when we're done." Ivy leaned forward, peering at the screen. "Who's brewing while I'm gone?"

"I bought this batch in," Ryke answered, shaking the canteen in her field of view. "Scantlin tried this own a couple of weeks back and I thought I'd swallowed some reactor fluid."

"Everflowing, who let him near a bloody still?"

"Not guilty."

"Sorry I can't send any of mine. We're pretty tight for gear down here."

Ryke nodded ruefully. "How are things going down there?"

"We're making progress," she said, shrugging. "There's just a lot to get through here. You guys did a real number on this place."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Better than the alternative, Ryke."

"And how are the Scraegans treating you?"

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty weird having them here," she admitted. "But we're making it work. Some of the gear they have – I wouldn't mind getting one back to the Forge for a proper tear up. I have no idea how that stuff works. But I think the real trouble's going to be trying to compare notes." Ivy ruffled a hand through her hair and dropped her chin up on her hands. "Can't believe I'm stuck in this hole for another month."

Ryke smiled. "You know I'll be waiting-,"

"Sarge!"

The urgent shout wrenched his attention away from the screen. He looked back over his shoulder at the entrance to the barracks and found Preese jogging towards him. An olive-skinned young man, his dark hair was sat in a series of short braids against his skull, his gaunt features set in an uneasy expression.

"Who's that?"

"Preese," Ryke murmured, glancing back at the screen. "Looking like somebody just drowned the world."

"Oh."

He gave her an apologetic look. "I better go."

"It's okay. I better get some sleep anyway." Ivy kissed her fingers and pressed them to the screen. "I'll speak to you soon. Love you."

"And I love you. Swim safe."

"You too, Ryke."

Then she was gone. The screen flicked to black just as Preese reached him. Bottling up his irritation, Ryke looked up at his second-in-command expectantly.

"Was that Ivy?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry, boss." Preese scuffed a foot awkwardly against the hard packed grit of the Stamm Basin training ground. "How's she doing?"