Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 20 - Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Demons of War

Just ask the Scraegans.

Ryke smiled ruefully at the memory. It had sounded very simple in the armoured safety of the command Mammoth. Until you remembered that a few miles away all out war was being waged. Difficult to attempt a conversation when you were still shooting at each other.

Right now their task force remained held in reserve with repairs underway as the battle raged on the horizon. Miraculously, Qadira had come out of her close encounter with only minor cuts and bruises, but her Hunter-Killer was in a different state. It would be the better part of a day before the techs at the forward base finished stripping out and replacing the ruined components.

That left him with a lot of thinking to do.

The makeshift forward command base of the human army sprawled out behind the battle-lines, positioned a couple of miles behind the command Mammoth and ringed with bristling defences. Bulky crawlers with flat-bed trailers carried enormous quad-cannons, ready to move the fearsome armaments to counter any threats. Hunter-Killer squadrons, including Charpente's HK-Praxis, rotated on patrolling the edge of the base, along with a constant wider curtain of Scout Cadre skiffs. Heavy tanks and self-propelled guns squatted at strong points along the perimeter, hulls camouflaged against the desert terrain and engines dormant, ready to unleash their fury on any unsuspecting Scraegan attackers.

Ryke strode through the billet tents that formed long rows inside the defensive cordon, their roofs sheened with reflective material to deflect the worst of the pounding sunlight during the day. A hydro-cube dissolved in his mouth as he ducked into the Hunter-Killer barrack row, where a handful of off duty pilots lounged. Some dozed, others played games, some were reading on data-slates. This close to the front there was no sign of any shiner or scorchbeer, not when you could be called to battle in a matter of moments.

Exchanging nods and greetings with some of the pilots he recognised from Brekka, Ryke made his way through towards the back of the tent where the temporary billets for HK-Rupture had been assigned.

He found a few of his squadmates there. Brody looked like he was fast asleep on his bunk; Kim and the rookie Raptor pilot, Ricardo, were playing a game between their data slates. Qadira lay on her bunk, nibbling from a ration pack of smoked meat, staring at the roof of the tent blankly. He could see the series of thin cuts on the left side of her face where an interior feedback sensor had blown apart inside the cockpit and torn into her. She was lucky not to have lost an eye.

Ryke left her to her thoughts for now. The younger pilots started to rise as he approached but he waved them back dismissively.

"At ease, at ease," he said. "I'm just here for a rest like everyone else."

Slinging himself onto his bunk, he tugged his own data slate from the pocket hanging off the side of the frame and thumbed its power button. Tactical reports spilled down the page as he eschewed the entertainment programs built into the machine, unable to shake off the feeling of impotence as he could do nothing but wait.

All along the front an enormous engagement had erupted as the main thrust of the human force struck eight heavily defended Scraegan warrens at once. Llewellyn's battle plan leveraged the mountain-smashing power of the artillery columns, pounding the visible areas of the structure with a never-ending fusillade of shells until both the rock structure and surrounding area became unstable enough to drag the Scraegans out to fight.

Once their foes had been goaded into fighting, the Hunter-Killers led the assault, supported by fast-moving scout columns and brigades of mechanised infantry. The result was an utter bloodbath as the Scraegans fought back savagely.