Hellsky (Hunter-Killer #3)

Chapter 52 - Warways

Ryke had been in a lot of briefings as a soldier in Brekka's army, but this one felt just a little bit different.

And not in a good way.

The main briefing room at Stamm Basin was packed to the walls with soldiers and support staff. He could see Hunter-Killer pilots, scout commanders, combat engineers, militia officers, even a handful of representatives from the Blackwaters.

On top of that, a section of the briefing room had been cordoned off for officers from the northern army. He couldn't stop himself from flinging a bleak, side-long glance at the men and women in that section, their spread of uniforms marking them out from the grey Brekkan fatigues. The crimson livery of Rubicon made him sizzle. After everything that had happened, the thought of going into battle alongside them made him feel sick.

But apparently everyone was expected to play nice now.

Around him, the rest of HK-Rupture settled moodily into their seats, their gazes flickering suspiciously to the northern soldiers, who for their part, didn't look any happier about this state of affairs.

On the raised dais at the front of the room, however, the commanders of the disparate groups gathered. Marshall Llewellyn from Rubicon was there, six and a half feet tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a neatly-pressed uniform of red and gold. His high-peaked officer's cap sat perfectly above his grey-black hair, and he appraised the room from behind his dark eyes.

Several other senior officers from the north stood with him, one of whom caught Ryke's eye – a sharp-featured woman with her blond hair shaven down both sides of her head, leaving only a thin ridge in the centre that tapered down into a short clump of braids. She had a harder look to her than the other officers, hands clasped behind her back as she examined the gathering. Her eyes burned blue like a pair of suns.

She looked like a Hunter-Killer.

His guess was proved to be correct, when she exchanged a respectful nod with Major Kwendo as he crossed the dais in front of her – a gesture of mutual respect between the pilots, no matter what else might have been happening. Colonel Hackley was there too, along with the Brekkan Commissariat minister, Khazwari, General Bosede, and Colonel Marrow of Brekka's militia.

Also there, at the centre of the stage, stood Commissary-General Xanthus, with the other minister, Numitor at her side. Ryke examined the man closely, trying to decide how he should feel. The north had brought nothing but trouble recently, but Numitor seemed to be one of the sensible voices – the one who'd actually taken Ivy's information and used it to figure out exactly what was coming.

"This must be bad," Brigg muttered, "for everyone to be up there playing nice."

"Funny how that happens," Ryke replied, folding his arms as the last stragglers filtered into the briefing room.

"Whatever this is," Kim put in icily from the row behind, "I'll take a trip down the Rapids before I go into a fight side-by-side with those bastards."

Qadira shot the Raptor pilot a black look. "Most of them were just following orders. I'm one of those bastards."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Well, what did you mean?"

"Enough," Ryke snapped, twisting to look at them, and making a chopping motion across his neck with one hand. "Both of you, just bottle it! We'll follow whatever orders we get, and that's the end of it. Now shut up and listen."

The pair exchanged chastened looks; mumbled a 'yes, sir', and subsided. He stayed turned in his seat for a few extra seconds just to make sure, before swinging back around as the hum of chatter faded away.