Furnace (Hunter-Killer #1)

Chapter 26 - All the Hell That You've Got to Spare

The bang of a heavy metal door dragged Ryke unwillingly from a deep, dreamless sleep. A twinge of pain stirred behind his eyes and he sucked in a sharp breath, waiting for it to subside – a lovely calling card from the beer and shiner he'd drunk the night before. He cleared his throat, feeling a residual sandy dryness and grimacing. After a moment the headache subsided enough that he felt like he could actually open his eyes.

Light from the portholes in the barracks roof speared down into the barrel-like room and judging from the angle it was still early in the morning. He had a couple of hours yet until he needed to report for duty. With a heavy sigh he lowered his head back against the pillow. Other pilots were already up and moving a low hum of conversation trickling through the spaces between the rows of beds.

Alongside him on his bunk Ivy stirred with a moan of protest. She lay with her back to him, bare shoulders just visible above them hem of the lightweight sleep cover, her brown hair lying in a dishevelled mass on the pillow, for once free of the confines of the headband she always wore.

"Mmm...time is it?" she murmured, not opening her eyes.

"Early." Ryke planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder, his left hand resting on her hip beneath the cover. "Go back to sleep."

He slid his arm around across her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers and the warmth of her body. Shifting slightly, he hugged her to him.

Ivy let out a contented sigh, lacing the fingers of one hand through his and pulling his arm tight against her chest as she shuffled back, pressing to his chest as she tucked her body tightly up against him. Ryke smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the top of her head, breathing in deep the scent of her hair.

The pair fell back into a doze as the low bustle of the dawn shift unfolded around them, none of the pilots so much as glancing in their direction. Ryke wasn't the only one sharing a bunk after last night. The regulations imposed on the pilots were fairly loose – it seemed commanding officers didn't want to compound the day-in, day-out threat of constant death with a heavily curtailed social life. People in the Hunter-Killer Corp knew that any one of them might not come back on any given day. Not being allowed to blow off steam under that kind of pressure was a recipe for disaster.

After a little while Ivy moved beneath the blankets, turning over to face him. He eased his head back and found her looking at him with an impish smile.

"Morning, Hunter-Killer," she whispered, a delicate finger of one hand tracing circles on his chest. She pressed her lips against his, letting out low purr as she relaxed into him. His arms folded around her, pulling her close as they kissed before she tucked her head beneath his chin. Ryke let his mind go blank, savouring the moment of calm in the hectic storm that was life in the Hunter-Killers.

An instant later that moment was blown apart.

With shocking suddenness, the thunder of the Stamm Basin alarm went ripping through the barracks like a shockwave, blasting from big speakers that lined the ceiling. The thick, high-pitched pulsing reignited his headache and a babble of surprised voices swelled in the air. Ryke jolted and nearly fell out off the bunk. He was spared the indignity as Ivy's grip on him snapped tight, every muscle in her body clenching instinctively at the sudden eruption of noise. For a few seconds they lay there, clamped together as though they'd been electrocuted.

Then they looked at each other. This was no ordinary alarm. The rib-shaking wail that tore through the building indicated an emergency of emergencies – an all out panic button by any other name. Something big was coming, and the alarm called all off-duty personnel to their battle stations, no questions asked.