Hellsky (Hunter-Killer #3)

Chapter 23 - Not Quite Friends

When he walked into the meeting with General Bosede two days later, Ryke really wasn't sure what to expect. While general mobilisation orders cascaded down through the ranks of Brekka's soldiery, he was getting hauled into more cloak-and-dagger gatherings instead of preparing with his squad. He seethed inwardly.

He was sick of being the go-between; sick of always being part of the complication. All Ryke wanted to do was command his squad, and protect Brekka. Somewhere along the way he'd become everybody's special little helper when it came to the Scraegans.

So when he sat down in the secluded briefing room, surrounded by Bosede's senior staff and several grim-faced Blackwater operatives, he couldn't keep the emotion off his face. Colonel Hackley had worked with him long enough to recognise the signs, and she smirked as she took up a seat a few spaces down from him at the hexagonal table.

"Something the matter, Sergeant?"

"There's a lot to do," he replied, folding his arms sullenly. "I'd rather be out there getting my people prepped."

"You and me both."

"You will," Bosede assured them, an impish gleam in his eye. "In due time. But before you do, there is some additional information you require. HK-Rupture has a special assignment ahead of it, but I would rather your pilots hear it from you."

"Why?" Ryke straightened a little in his seat, a feeling of unease creeping through him. "What kind of assignment?"

"One that I'm afraid will only be achievable with you in command."

That didn't make him feel much better, but he wasn't in a position to say 'no' to the commander of Brekka's armed forces. So he gave a small nod.

"So what do you need from us?"

"Since our last briefing, we've been received fresh reports from the dig site team," Hackley interjected. "And so far it appears that they've avoided any hostilities."

"They had to give over the Scraegans control of the site to do it," one of the other officers grumbled.

"I doubt they had a lot of alternatives." The Scout commander shot him a disapproving glance before returning her attention to Ryke. "Your brother is safe for the time being, as is Corporal Shanklin."

It felt like someone had lifted the foot of a Scraegan off his lungs. Ryke exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure amongst the senior military staff. "That's ... that's good news, ma'am."

"Yes it is, but there's a lot more that they've reported."

"Indeed." Bosede nodded to one of the Blackwaters, a bronze-skinned woman with her curls of dark hair wrestled into a taut military bun behind her head. She tapped swift fingers across her data slate and a three-dimensional display sprang to life in the centre of the table.

Ryke blinked at the display. It was a diagram – a blueprint of some kind, showing a bulbous sphere, coupled to a long thin tower that speared up and out of the simulation's field of view.

"This," the Blackwater officer said, "is what they've found at the Scraegar labyrinth, and last time they checked, it was very much online." Another tap of a button and the diagram vanished, replaced by a series of images.

He leaned forward, peering at the dark pictures. He could see walls to angular to be natural formations, all made of some strange black material. It might have been metal, or some kind of polished stonework, but he was no expert. His eye was also drawn, however, to the blue lines lighting up sections of the floor.

"What is that place?" Ryke asked, this new revelation doing nothing to quell his unease.

"That is very much the question, isn't it?" Bosede replied, clasping his hands together. "But we know we didn't build it, and certainly the Scraegans didn't either."