Furnace (Hunter-Killer #1)

Chapter 05 - News Travels Fast

Stamm Basin's latest intake of prospective Hunter-Killer pilots had been in residence for two long weeks and the punishing training regime had not lessened. If anything their workload had increased. There was a franticness to their day to day routines, with Sergeant Mulrough and his trainers working to a furious schedule, cramming in everything they could. Days seemed to get longer.

They made regular trips to Corporal Malewicz's training centre, repeating the target training over and over, every single person hunting down the much-coveted Dead Eye position. Although Ryke reliably found himself placing in the top third of recruits, no-one even got close to unseating Amelia from the top spot, her reactions and accuracy freakish even by Hunter-Killer standards.

After just those two weeks, a sense of numbness had begun to descend on him, so the introduction of the partial exoskeleton was a welcome step forward in their progress. He was well aware it was nothing compared to the fifteen ton behemoth he hoped to pilot soon, but you had to start somewhere.

The rigs added an extra foot of height, with huge, scaffold-like assemblies that wrapped around the arms and legs. His feet were locked inside what looked like comically oversized shovel-heads, packed with shock absorbers and impact dispersal arrays. Spindly rods of metal followed the contours of his body, joints linking over the top of his knees and elbows to allow the rigs to move with him. A thick neck brace held his head steady, connected to a thick metal helmet with a transparent HUD that projected down over his face in a sheen of blue.

In a tentative motion Ryke took a step forward.

The shovel-like 'foot' of the exoskeleton left a broad, flat divot in the gritty hard-packed sand of the training ground. He let his knees bend with the weight, trying to get a feel for his new mass. It was an odd experience. In some ways he didn't feel all that different, his movements largely unhindered by the heft of the new gear, but there was a sense of lethargy now, almost like a miniscule time delay between his decision to take a step and it actually happening. He glanced around through the HUD at his companions.

The helmet emulated the display they would see inside the real Hunter-Killers. As his gaze swept over the other recruits the ocular system linked with his line of sight, outlining their forms in shimmering sapphire lines. Identification tags glimmered above their heads, currently simply their group colour followed by a number.

He caught Brigg's eye; the Brekka native grinned back from behind his HUD.

"Everyone, take your time," Mulrough shouted, standing in front of them in a rig of his own. "These might be training rigs but that doesn't mean they're not damn expensive, so try not to scratch the paint."

Ryke watched enviously as their drill sergeant loped easily back and forth inspecting the recruits as they tried to get their bearings in the new gear. Occasionally he paused to bark a rebuke at anyone making a real mess of things, grabbing them and yanking them around like a human puppet until they were standing how he wanted them to.

Happily, Ryke found himself adjusting by the second to the heft of the new rig, taking slow steps and letting his arms and legs bend and flow with the exoskeleton as he moved. It was about getting into rhythm, editing your expectations to accommodate the faint lag from the movements being transmitted through the rig. He wasn't the only one – Vela was moving around with relative ease, and Brigg seemed to stepping around with growing confidence. He caught sight of Jarrko moving unsteadily, his face tightly pinched with concentration.

"Alright!" Mulrough bellowed, apparently satisfied that most of the recruits had gotten to grips with their gear. "All teams sound off, in order. Starting with Squad Blue." Ryke waited patiently as the squads began reeling off their numbers, voices coming through crisp and clear in the helmet's ear piece, until eventually it was their turn.