Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 11 - More Than Savage

Two days later the strike force rolled out from Ozzmar at first light. The twin suns of Rychter glowered over the horizon in a vast arc of red-orange, illuminating the dark silhouettes of the enormous Mammoth carrier and its entourage of armoured vehicles against the badlands. Dust and smoke kicked up in a long plume at the rear of the column and the low snarl of engines echoed in the morning air.

Ryke tried to relax in the Hunter-Killer cradle as the hours crawled by, going over the tactical reports that had reached them from the multi-pronged offensive now underway in Rychter's southern regions. The main army at Cresentscar had pressed out to drive the Scraegans from several locations south of the valley which held the town, setting up observation posts and scout patrols to cover the continued human advance.

Further east the force under the command of Major De Lunta had repulsed a Scraegan attack on Alldeep and driven several enemy packs away from the region to give the human forces more room to manoeuvre. Colonel Hackley's contingent had struck south, reclaiming a small quarrying complex in one of the badlands ragged, craggy outcrops to provide another advance base.

Despite these early successes, though, Ryke felt a little uneasy. They'd inflicted casualties on the Scraegans to be sure, but their enemies were giving as good as they received without absorbing any crippling losses. Just like at Ozzmar the bulk of the Scraegan forces withdrew before they could be destroyed, saving themselves for a counter offensive that was sure to come.

Llewellyn wanted to press the tempo of their advance nonetheless, hoping to prevent the Scraegans from regrouping. Ryke and his companions now rumbled across the searing openness of the badlands en route to link up with another, larger force commanded by Rubicon's Colonel Harcourt. Once they rendezvoused, the combined battle group would turn directly south, to what had once been the large town of Dushala, one of the biggest settlements that had felt the wrath of the Scraegans.

He understood the necessity of keeping the Scraegans on their heels, but Ryke still didn't like it. They hadn't had time to reinforce from the Ozzmar engagement, so all three Hunter-Killer squadrons would be deploying under strength. Brackenshaw's contingent were down four skiffs, and the armoured companies were fighting at two thirds of their full strength. It felt too quick, like the northern officers orchestrating this assault were desperate for a knock out blow after just a few days.

Ryke tried to distract himself with the tactical assessments of the army's progress, his last conversation with Ivy still gnawing at him.

Genocide.

The word rolled around his mind accusingly. Wiping out a whole species was as wrong an act as could be conceived, but every time he felt even a breath of hesitation his thoughts filled with the memories of all the hurt and hate the Scraegans had caused. He thought of home – of Rukker's Quarry – a simple town obliterated by the Scraegans when he was barely ten years old. He'd lost his parents that day, leaving him and his older brother Kelso to escape the carnage.

They were relocated to Brekka with vengeance in their hearts. Kelso now served as an analyst and support officer, while Ryke took to the front lines. The day they'd lost everything was as raw now as it ever was. He remembered the fire, the acrid stink of the furnace cannons and the screams; remembered the looming massiveness of the Scraegan Alpha that had thundered by his hiding place.

Those memories stopped him from meeting Ivy halfway.

"Are we there yet?" Kim drawled, her voice dragging him from his thoughts. Her Raptor's entire right side gleamed with fresh bodywork where Ivy's comrades had repaired the torched plating and damaged gyros.

"Still one hour and forty from our rendezvous, Haunter," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the impact cushioning cradle of the Hunter-Killer.