Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 03 - Hook, Line and Sinker

One thing Ryke could say for certain was that he hated the join discipline drills that were being forced upon Brekka's soldiers. He and his pilots had spent a long time learning to fight in a very specific way – as a single unbreakable unit of war machines. Drilling alongside other Hunter-Killer squadrons worked because he knew the limits; knew exactly what they could and couldn't do. They needed flexibility to be effective.

Now he found himself trying to perform battlefield manoeuvres as part of much, much larger mixed units, combining both Brekkan Hunter-Killer formations and northern units. There were armoured vehicle batteries, columns of heavy assault skiffs and even formations of mobile infantry to factor into the equation.

None of them could match the speed and firepower of the Hunter-Killers.

Across Stamm Basin's training ground a simulated formation of vicious looking crags sprawled, broken up by stretches of barren desert, the kind of terrain they could look forward to encountering in the southern badlands should Llewellyn's grand plan ever get that far. The simulation was of a pitched battle with multiple Scraegan threats, some taking the human line head on while others attempted to flank, using their uncanny natural burrowing ability to reposition rapidly in the heat of battle.

Ryke cursed, watching on the HUD as the supporting armoured brigades fell behind the thunderous advance of his Hunter-Killers on the left flank, allowing a wedge of Scraegan reinforcements to plunge into the gap in the human line. Anger roiled through him as he gave the order to wheel about and engage the flanking force. This was not an efficient way to make war – constantly babysitting and covering the ponderous tank and infantry units, not to mention the inexperienced Hunter-Killer pilots from the north.

They wheeled back nonetheless, intercepting the theoretical attack line of Scraegans in the nick of time and driving them away from the vulnerable flank of the northern tanks. A close call and probably a chewing out when they were done here.

The attack force pressed on with the simulated engagement, some forty Hunter-Killers, two armoured battalions, a mobile infantry division and a contingent of Scout Cadre skiffs all working as one – at least in theory. In practice they were awkwardly out of sync as they tried to get used to each other. The newcomers were mechanically drilled, almost to a fault, and Ryke knew how quickly the best laid plans could be undone by the Scraegans.

They managed to keep the assault moving for ten gruelling minutes before the inevitable happened.

Simulated shells screamed overhead, the Hunter-Killer's neural feedback systems currently hijacked by the program to make every inch of this feel as real as possible. Ryke focused on trying to keep his mechs out of the firing line, even as they brawled with encroaching packs of Scraegans who emerged from the crags in violent surges. Scout Cadre skiffs knifed forward to strafe the enemy lines between salvos and the northern Hunter-Killers in the centre of the line drove forward.

As they approached the crags, however, he saw an eerie pocket of empty space open up between the battle lines, an inviting gouge in the Scraegan ranks.

The officer of the lead Hunter-Killer unit – Lieutenant Miquelon from Rubicon's HK-Strident – saw it too.

"Kaber to all units, on our lead," Miquelon barked over the comms. "Pull in behind and follow us in. We can split them."

"Riverlords, they got him hook line and sinker," Thaye grated over the squad-wide comm. Ryke nodded, thinking exactly the same.

"Lockjaw-Kaber, negative on your last," he responded quickly, speaking even as he sidestepped the simulated swing of a Scraegan club. "If we pull in they'll surround us. They're baiting you in." Technically the man outranked him but Ryke still didn't feel able to defer to these inexperienced theory-crafting soldiers. Especially when he felt he knew what was happening.