Warsong (Hunter-Killer #2)

Chapter 17 - A Mystery You'd Rather Not Solve

 "Copy that, SC-21 – on your lead," Ryke confirmed over the comm, pounding his mech into position at the centre of the line.

Their deployment orders flashed up on the HUD, every mech getting the same read out. He examined it intently, and felt a surge of anticipation. Everything Brackenshaw was doing served to create an open corridor for the Hunter-Killers to bludgeon their way straight down the throat of any Scraegan defences. He could feel adrenaline already seeping into his system at the prospect of being in the thick of battle once more.

He wanted some true retribution for the pilots he'd lost. All the mysteries and all the politics faded into insignificance as he prepared himself for frontline combat. Their route kept them out of sight in the shaded dips between the dunes, and Brackenshaw's deployment of scouts and armour would keep the Scraegans off balance until the last possible moment. He switched to the squad-wide band, a grim smile of anticipation crossing his face.

"Lockjaw to all pilots," he said as he increased his pace. "Spin up all weapons and check all combat systems."

Acknowledgements snapped through the comm from his pilots, rattling down the chain with bloodthirsty efficiency. Green readouts flashed up on the HUD as one by one they transmitted their combat readiness signals. Ryke's own mech showed every reading in the green, with ammo counters and armour integrity all showing optimal.

"Lockjaw – Sharps," he called to HK-Praxis.

"Go ahead."

"We'll take the lead and knock down the front door. You follow us in."

"Copy that," Charpente answered with a hint of venom in her voice. "Make sure you knock nice and loud."

She sounded perfectly happy for Ryke's troops to take the lead, and for his part, he wouldn't have had it any other way. The twenty battle mechs thumped their way through the gully in pairs, forced into a narrow snaking column by the valleys. On their own they might have been vulnerable in such a position, but the pincer forces of scouts and heavy armour would ensure the Scraegans never got the chance to execute any kind of pre-emptive strike when they were hit from all sides.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the column of heavy tanks under Lieutenant Gaul's command swing away to the west, moving to their assigned bombardment positions. A phalanx of self-propelled artillery pieces and low-hulled battle tanks, it was a force that, given the opportunity, could flatten the warren they were about to assault. On either side, the fast moving scout skiffs screened the lighter armoured vehicles and militia transports as they swept into their assigned positions.

For the moment, however, Ryke's short range seismics detected nothing in the immediate area, no Scraegan defensive forces rushing out to meet them. He knew from grim experience that the lack of reading didn't mean there was nothing there, but they had their orders. They were going in.

"AC-8 to all units," Lieutenant Gaul declared over the comm. "We are two minutes from bombardment range."

"Copy that," Brackenshaw replied. "Flanking elements will be in position in ninety seconds. HK-Rupture, you ready to break something?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ryke growled back. "Two minutes from staging area. Once you light this up we'll be ready."

Like the claws of a lifting drill the three arms of the human attack force slowly closed into position, squeezing down on the small jut of stone that was the Scraegan warren. Ryke could see it all forming on his HUD, as simple and elegant as a game. The snake of the Hunter-Killer force pulled into position between two rock-littered dunes, staying out of sight of the entrance until the rest of the task force had taken up their positions.