Hellsky (Hunter-Killer #3)

Chapter 09 - No Man's Land

Year 248 P.L. Rychter Calendar
Coordinates: 39.2°S; 62.3°W
Site Designation: Brekka (City of)

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"Circle up," Ryke barked, raising a fist high. "HK-Rupture, on my lead!"

His voice cut through the thunderous noise of Stamm Basin's main hangar. All around him the military machine of Brekka ground on with ruthless efficiency. The hangar stretched away hundreds of meters in all directions, with dozens of bays for Scout Cadre skiffs, armoured infantry vehicles, the massive armoured hearths for the Mammoth transport carriers, equipment and cargo haulers for the Engineering Cadre, and of course, rank upon rank of cradles for the Hunter-Killer squadrons.

Behind him the mechs of HK-Rupture were being given their final pre-deployment checks by a team of technicians, their armour plating a mix of rust red and burnished brass. In front of him, the nine pilots under his command formed an expectant semi-circle around him, all of them showing varying degrees of annoyance.

"This is a flood of piss, isn't it?" Brigg grumbled as he stomped into position. "Nice bit of leave, eh? Goes by faster than you can imagine."

Kim 'Haunter' Lassange smirked, giving him a wry thump on the arm. "Keeping you from a hot date, are we, Avalanche?"

"Maybe."

"I'm sure she'll still be here when we get back."

"Settle down, everybody," Ryke grunted, letting his fist drop once they were all within earshot. "New orders – urgent command priority. It's a crappy deal but we're stuck with it, alright. You've all heard about what happened with Brackenshaw's patrol?"

"Scraegans taking pot-shots," Erin chimed in. "Looks like they didn't exactly get their houses in order.

"We don't know what happened, not for certain." Qadira 'Medea' Hariri shot her a sour look. "Could have been a rogue faction, or maybe we stumbled across some kind of burial ground. Who knows?"  Dark skinned and older than most of the others, she was a pilot from Rubicon who, against Ryke's expectations, had stuck around after the bulk of the expeditionary force had been recalled north. It seemed like Qadira wanted to have a first hand view of everything that was happening in the south.

"The vids seemed pretty clear. Scraegans are still after a war."

Heads all turned to the new speaker as her coarse voice cut firmly through the air.

Eldest daughter of the late, Andre 'Reaver' De Lunta, Fenix looked every inch the bloodthirsty Hunter-Killer pilot. Although only sixteen, she was tall for her age and brawny with it, with the same brassy skin as her father and a short crop of dark hair clipped to just below her ears.

He hadn't quite known what to think when they'd assigned her to his unit. Partly honoured, partly terrified. Right now he chose his words carefully.

"Qadira's right," Ryke said. "We don't know exactly what happened. That's why we're getting deployed. We're accompanying Brackenshaw out to the liaison outpost to try and get some answers on just what happened out there."

"So we're heading out there to talk?" Fenix grunted. "One little skirmish and the whole corps running scared?"

"It's not like we're walking out there naked with a bunch of white flags," Scantlin interjected. "As amazing a story as that would be." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the line of Hunter-Killers, where the technicians were finishing up their checks. "We're taking some pretty heavy ordinance along for the ride."

She fixed him with a baleful glare. "You know what I mean. They shot at us. How come we're the ones sticking out the peace offering?"

"Because somebody has to," Ryke grunted. "Look, I know you're all tired, and I didn't want this gig either, but apparently I'm the closest thing we've got to a friendly face. If they're going to start pointing fingers and claws, they want me there to show it's all above board." He scrubbed a weary hand through his hair, looking down the line of pilots. "It's just another mission folks. We go out, you follow my lead, and we come home. And hopefully we don't kick off another war."