Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 07 - The First Steps of War

Despite everything, Ryke had to admit, the force that rolled out of Brekka was an impressive one.

Their battle group consisted of thirty Hunter-Killers borne in the belly of a Mammoth crawler, a company of Brekkan militia and a unit of mobile infantry auxiliaries from Lashkinero, the northernmost city on the planet. Behind them came three Scout Cadre skiff columns under Brackenshaw's command, along with a brigade of self-propelled guns and heavily armed crawlers from Rubicon to provide close fire support.

It was a lot of firepower. Ryke just hoped it would look as good when they had to deploy to an active combat zone. Within the Mammoth he didn't have much choice but to try and relax and compose himself for the battle to come. His pilots were locked into the bottom ring of docking cradles within the massive machine, closest to the doors for swift deployment.

Above them Charpente's HK-Praxis were held on the second rung, and at the top HK- Strident under Lieutenant Miquelon waited. Part of him was happy to have Praxis alongside them, a unit that could be relied on to do their job in combat, even if privately he still simmered with frustration over his exchange with Charpente before their deployment.

She'd made him confront the more complex reality in front of him and he didn't like it. He wanted this to be simple and wanted to be in control. Neither of those things were true. His hands flexed in fists as the faces of Colonel Harcourt and General Llewellyn flashed in his mind, their strident disregard for the tried and tested battle-methods of Brekka bringing fresh waves of anger.

Part of him hoped this operation would be a disaster. At least then they'd have proof that Llewellyn and his cronies didn't have any right to be commanding this war. The metal seam of his jaw throbbed with pain at thought. Such an outcome would come with a lot of lives lost. Ryke let his head loll back in the Hunter-Killer cockpit and sighed. He looked forward to being out in the field again and fighting. At least then he wouldn't have to think about any of this for a little while.

The Mammoth rattled their bones as it crawled its way south in the direction of Ozzmar. Other vanguard units had rolled out with them, splintering off to seize other strategic locations along the proposed line of advance. Major De Lunta had his own battle-group that had dispatched to Alldeep, to shore up the defences of that town; Colonel Hackley had operational command of a brigade tasked with retaking the ruin of Laurlo – a town further east that would begin the process of pincering the Scraegan territory from both sides.

Colonel Harcourt and the vast bulk of the new army plunged straight south towards Crescentscar, the nucleus of the campaign to rid Rychter of the Scraegan menace.

Windowless and wrapped in thick armour, Ryke couldn't get any real sense of how close they were, but the chronometer in his Hunter-Killer ticked steadily away. Minutes trickled by. Bursts of half-hearted conversation zipped between the pilots and status updates filtered through to them from the advance scouting units. Long range seismics had picked up scattered, distant readings of possible Scraegan movements, but nothing close enough to alter the plan.

They were going in.

The task force ground its way on an eastward arc for another hour under the increasing heat of Rychter's suns and Ryke knew they had to be getting close now. He rolled his head from side to side, loosening up his neck.

"Everybody awake?" he said through the squad-wide.

"I am now," Brigg drawled back amidst the acknowledgements, generating a scattered laugh through the earpiece.

"Well, now that you're caught up your beauty sleep you can run your system checks," Ryke replied with a smirk. "Everybody, re-run all combat readiness checks and report in. Last thing we need is for this bumpy ride to have knocked something loose."