Chapter 03 - Hook, Line and Sinker

One thing Ryke could say for certain was that he hated the join discipline drills that were being forced upon Brekka's soldiers. He and his pilots had spent a long time learning to fight in a very specific way – as a single unbreakable unit of war machines. Drilling alongside other Hunter-Killer squadrons worked because he knew the limits; knew exactly what they could and couldn't do. They needed flexibility to be effective.

Now he found himself trying to perform battlefield manoeuvres as part of much, much larger mixed units, combining both Brekkan Hunter-Killer formations and northern units. There were armoured vehicle batteries, columns of heavy assault skiffs and even formations of mobile infantry to factor into the equation.

None of them could match the speed and firepower of the Hunter-Killers.

Across Stamm Basin's training ground a simulated formation of vicious looking crags sprawled, broken up by stretches of barren desert, the kind of terrain they could look forward to encountering in the southern badlands should Llewellyn's grand plan ever get that far. The simulation was of a pitched battle with multiple Scraegan threats, some taking the human line head on while others attempted to flank, using their uncanny natural burrowing ability to reposition rapidly in the heat of battle.

Ryke cursed, watching on the HUD as the supporting armoured brigades fell behind the thunderous advance of his Hunter-Killers on the left flank, allowing a wedge of Scraegan reinforcements to plunge into the gap in the human line. Anger roiled through him as he gave the order to wheel about and engage the flanking force. This was not an efficient way to make war – constantly babysitting and covering the ponderous tank and infantry units, not to mention the inexperienced Hunter-Killer pilots from the north.

They wheeled back nonetheless, intercepting the theoretical attack line of Scraegans in the nick of time and driving them away from the vulnerable flank of the northern tanks. A close call and probably a chewing out when they were done here.

The attack force pressed on with the simulated engagement, some forty Hunter-Killers, two armoured battalions, a mobile infantry division and a contingent of Scout Cadre skiffs all working as one – at least in theory. In practice they were awkwardly out of sync as they tried to get used to each other. The newcomers were mechanically drilled, almost to a fault, and Ryke knew how quickly the best laid plans could be undone by the Scraegans.

They managed to keep the assault moving for ten gruelling minutes before the inevitable happened.

Simulated shells screamed overhead, the Hunter-Killer's neural feedback systems currently hijacked by the program to make every inch of this feel as real as possible. Ryke focused on trying to keep his mechs out of the firing line, even as they brawled with encroaching packs of Scraegans who emerged from the crags in violent surges. Scout Cadre skiffs knifed forward to strafe the enemy lines between salvos and the northern Hunter-Killers in the centre of the line drove forward.

As they approached the crags, however, he saw an eerie pocket of empty space open up between the battle lines, an inviting gouge in the Scraegan ranks.

The officer of the lead Hunter-Killer unit – Lieutenant Miquelon from Rubicon's HK-Strident – saw it too.

"Kaber to all units, on our lead," Miquelon barked over the comms. "Pull in behind and follow us in. We can split them."

"Riverlords, they got him hook line and sinker," Thaye grated over the squad-wide comm. Ryke nodded, thinking exactly the same.

"Lockjaw-Kaber, negative on your last," he responded quickly, speaking even as he sidestepped the simulated swing of a Scraegan club. "If we pull in they'll surround us. They're baiting you in." Technically the man outranked him but Ryke still didn't feel able to defer to these inexperienced theory-crafting soldiers. Especially when he felt he knew what was happening.

"We've broken their front line," the Rubicon officer retorted imperiously. "Now follow your orders and pull in to advance. Cover our flank on engagement."

"Copy that." Ryke shook his head angrily and flicked to his squad comm. "Alright, you heard the man."

"Bad idea, sarge," Brigg rumbled from the helm of his Goliath mech. "We better be on the look out for the sucker punch."

"Ain't that the truth," Preese snorted.

"Bring it in but stay sharp," Ryke ordered, snapping out callsigns as he dispersed his pilots. "Haze, Haunter, kick out left and eyeball the flank for our armour. They'll need warning if the Scraegans pincer in. Avalanche, Mallet, inside flank for fire support. Everybody else, skirmish line on me."

Acknowledgements filtered crisply into his ears through the Hunter-Killers comm system, as clear as if the other pilots were standing beside him. On the HUD the well-drilled members of HK-Rupture moved swiftly to their assigned positions, the quick-footed Raptor mechs looping out to the left flank where they could give an advanced warning of any surprises.

Ryke took up his position at the right edge of the skirmish line, running a dozen meters ahead of Brigg and Brody in their Goliaths. Following the slanted drive of the tanks, the left flank of the human forced pulled in, mirroring the manoeuvre on the opposite edge to form a massive blunt arrowhead, with the squad of HK-Strident at the front.

It felt so simple and that meant trouble. Ryke knew that much.

He didn't have long to wait for his instincts to be proved correct.

At first it looked like the lieutenant in charge of HK-Strident was correct, as the wedge crashed into what appeared to be an ailing Scraegan defence. Hunter-Killers in the forward section drove into the craggy formations, backed up by a flight of the heavier northern skiffs that bristled with weaponry. They pressed forward eagerly, squeezing through the narrow defiles like chemicals unclogging a drain.

Such was the speed of the advance across the open space that they left the supporting columns of mobile infantry and tanks adrift, and all Ryke's fears came to fruition as a Scraegan force suddenly exploded from beneath the open space they'd left so invitingly open. A huge column of shaggy forms came into being, red indicators flicking up in a long line on his HUD. The forward elements were completely cut off in the crags, while their supporting columns were now up close and personal with at least forty Scraegans.

He knew the Rubicon officer in command must have seen the new force as well, but no orders came over the comm. Ryke waited for a handful of precious seconds.

The only voices he heard over the wide comm band were the panicked voices of the infantry and tank crews, their officers yelling for support. From HK-Strident there was nothing.

"They've shanked it," Thaye spat over the comm.

"Lockjaw-Kaber," Ryke barked, "Lieutenant, you are cut off – you need to pull back!"

"Negative!" the officer's shrill voice knifed back. "Hold your formations! Push on!"

Nobody was pushing on through this, Ryke could already see on the HUD that the central force that was supposed to be supporting the main thrust of the Hunter-Killers was disintegrating. The armoured columns packed a lot of heavy weaponry, but at point blank they were helpless against a fast moving Scraegan pack. Indicators winked out of existence on the HUD as their simulated foes tore a chasm in the guts of the human attack force.

"To the River with this," Ryke snorted, flicking back to his squad wide comm for a moment. "Everybody on my lead – maybe we can salvage something from this mess." His eyes flickered over the HUD as he quickly sketched out a less-than-perfect counter attack to stop the bleeding.

Then he began reeling off commands with the force and battlefield experience. If the two Hunter-Killer squadrons in the lead remained cut off, they were as good as gone. The units being mauled in the centre of the line were simply not worth that loss, so he made the decision that they would have to be written off as acceptable losses in the simulation.

Yelling commands, he successfully managed to get the unit of tanks following behind them to swing inward, and have the opposite flank of the human line repeat the motion, abandoning the wedge and instead bringing both wings of their force slamming shut on the centre of the line. It looked like it would work, too, until he ordered the commanders of the armoured units to open fire, heedless of the fact that their comrades were still trapped amongst the Scraegan force.

"Negative, negative!" the officer in command of the tank brigade blurted. "Friendly forces are in the firing line."

"They're as good as gone already!" Ryke yelled desperately, feeling the whole skirmish spiralling completely out of control. "We have to wipe out the Scraegan force now and link up with HK-Strident before they're completely cut off. Now do it!"

"Belay that order!"

He felt a tremor of rage as HK-Strident's lieutenant finally found his voice again.

"You are not in command here, sergeant! You will not fire on friendly units – and you have no authority to issue those orders!"

"Oh, to the River with this idiot!" Thaye spat venomously.

"Sir, we don't have time – more Scraegans are pulling in behind you," Ryke continued, trying not to let Thaye's assessment of events colour his response. "Either we hit this force hard and stop it dead, or we lose twenty Hunter-Killers. Your choice."

Even as he spoke he could see on the HUD that the cohesion of the human force had fallen apart. Some units remained stranded, paralysed by the overturned chain of command. Others struck out towards their beleaguered companions in dribs and drabs – other officers started shouting orders of their own. It was pandemonium.

It didn't end until the voice of Brekka's grizzled drill sergeant, Mulrough, thundered over the entire comm system.

"Exercise terminated!" he roared. "All units stand down! By the Everflowing River, if this is how you're going to fight we might as well hand the Scraegans the planet on a platter! Every damn one of you fall out and get your apologies ready before I get a hold of you."

*

When Ryke dropped out of his Hunter-Killer he was ready to kill someone. He slung on his jacket over the shimmer-black of his link skin and took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and preparing to defend his own actions in the skirmish. Maybe he had overstepped, but the officer who was supposed to be in charge had frozen – the man had blinked in the face of a crisis and in a real fight the casualties would have been horrendous.

"Where the in the Everflowing is that bastard?" Thaye snarled as she came storming over from her Hunter-Killer's bay. "I'm going to rip him apart."

She stood a little shorter than him, sporting a long ponytail of black hair and a slender frame that belayed her ferocity. She'd always been a volatile individual and he could see the rage in her eyes. Right now he shared her feelings wholeheartedly.

"Get in line," he muttered as the other members of HK-Rupture gathered like a storm cloud, faces dark with anger. More choice opinions of the inexperienced officer they'd been forced to defer to came rumbling in thick and fast.

Glancing around he saw the other Hunter-Killer squadrons disembarking, some looking sheepish, some confused, and some just as angry.

"Sergeant Vannigan!" shouted a crisply accented voice that Ryke instantly recognised. He rolled the metal of his jaw, feeling the muscles in his shoulders tense as he turned to face the speaker.

Striding towards him was Lieutenant Miquelon, a demure, hollow cheeked man with a bald head and a crisply manicured dark moustache. His link skin was concealed beneath a dress-jacket of the distinctive red and gold livery of Rubicon's soldiers. The men and women of his squad were spread out behind him. Most looked a few years older than the members of HK-Rupture, but that didn't mean much to Ryke if they hadn't spent that extra time fighting Scraegans.

"You have some gall, boy!" Miquelon thundered. "You think you can just take command because I am not from Brekka? I am the commanding officer of this battle group. I could have you on up on charges for such misconduct! If this how you behave to all your commanders it's a miracle this city is still standing!"

Despite the brashness of his words Ryke could see the sweat beading on the man's cheeks. He was was still flustered from the debacle of a training exercise he'd presided over. That didn't stop the sting in his words and Ryke tensed, anger wanting to leap off his tongue in a stream of insults.

Before he could say anything, however, Thaye was already in front of him, drawing herself up to her full height and locking eyes with the Rubicon officer.

"We follow orders from people who've earned the right to give them," she said acidly, waving a dismissive hand at the members of HK-Strident. "You're out of your depth, Lieutenant, all of you."

"It was your officer who destroyed our cohesion! I gave clear instructions and you have the nerve to try and countermand me?"

"He took over because you clearly don't know how to fight a Scraegan. It's you who ought to have your balls raked over the coals for that! One curveball and you buckle? You wouldn't last five seconds in a real battle."

Miquelon glared down his nose at her as his pilots let out cries of outrage. "I don't answer to the likes of you. I suggest all of you get in line and understand your place in the order of things here before I have you all formally disciplined. We have a real army here and we will be the ones in charge of how it fights!"

"You think you can just wander in here with your shiny new toys and start telling us how to fight a war?" She shook her head in disgust, turning to walk away. "You don't deserve to be here. You're an embarrassment to anyone who's ever piloted a Hunter-Killer."

"This war will go a lot quicker if you climb down from your pedestal learn some respect!" Miquelon sneered back as she turned. "You southers think you're so noble, a bunch of martyrs protecting the rest of us, as if we can't do it ourselves. Well, the truth is, you failed. That's why we're here. To do what you and your rabble of warmongering barbarians could not: win this war!"

He saw it – the sudden bristle of Thaye's posture and the tightening of her jaw as she stopped dead, her face twisting with hatred. Brigg caught his eye; they both started moving, but Ryke knew it was already too late.

Thaye rounded on Lieutenant Miquelon and smashed a clenched fist into the other pilot's face.

There was a crunch of breaking cartilage and the Rubicon officer toppled backwards with a howl of pain, blood streaming from his broken nose. A split second of stunned silence filled the air like an intake of breath, then two pilots from HK-Strident stepped forward to help their commander scramble to his feet.

"How dare you?" he sputtered, righting himself and shaking off his comrades irately. "I'll have you strung up for this, you scrawny little savage. You think you can strike a superior officer?"

"I'll be putting a superior officer in the morgue if you keep running your mouth," Thaye hissed, taking another step forward with both fists clenched by her sides. "Before you amateurs get the chance to screw up for real and get us all killed."

"That's enough!" Ryke roared as he plunged between them, shoving the pair apart. Following behind him, Brigg snatched Thaye by the arms and wrestled her backwards, while Ryke took a firm grip of the Rubicon officer's jacket and shoved him hard towards his squadmates. Eyes blazing, he challenged any of the others to make another move.

"You'll all regret this," Miquelon raged as he wiped blood from his nose.

"Walk it off, sir," Ryke shot back.

"What in the name of the Riverlords is going on here!" a deep, refined voice thundered from behind him and Ryke's heart dropped like a rock. He looked back over his shoulder and found none other than Colonel Harcourt striding wrathfully towards them. Behind him marched two armed soldiers in the livery of the Rubicon regiments.

The colonel drew himself up to his full height as he assessed the situation. Glancing first to his own officer, he then turned a disdainful glare on Thaye, his eyes flickering to the blood smeared across her knuckles. Caught, quite literally, red-handed.

"There will be discipline on this base," Harcourt said, his voice dangerously soft. "And I will make examples where required." Then he motioned his guards forward with a flick of his hand. "Take her."

Shrugging off Brigg's grip, Thaye showed no hint of remorse, shooting one last vicious look at the Rubicon officer before allowing the two soldiers to take her by the arms.

"Colonel, you can't-," Ryke began.

"Not another word, Sergeant," Harcourt interrupted as the guards marched Thaye away. "Striking a superior officer is a serious offence. She will be held in the base's detention centre until a formal disciplinary hearing is convened. That is the end of the matter. Until then I suggest you and your companions take this chance to reflect on the consequences of disrespecting the chain of command."

Then he turned on his heel and followed his guards. Ryke watched in disbelief as one of his best pilots was escorted out of sight like a criminal. For a moment he just stared, his mind racing as he tried to think. He knew the regulations and knew that, according to the book, everything Colonel Harcourt had said was true.

But when he looked at the smug, self-satisfied faces of the members of HK-Strident he decided that he didn't give a damn. He shook his head in disgust as he looked the Rubicon officer up and down.

"This isn't over," he muttered, before turning and stalking away, rage boiling in his gut.