Things were finally looking up.

Since Ozzmar's destruction a sense of constant tension fizzled in the background of every training session, accentuating every failure and every misstep. Every day that passed seemed to drag them closer to some indefinable crisis, and every hour wasted relearning manoeuvres or combat techniques set Ryke on edge.

So when the Hunter-Killers of Squad Green began to display some true cohesion he could barely suppress his happiness. It seemed that his little chat with Thaye had wound in some of the girl's anger and she worked harder than any of them to ensure she didn't repeat such a mistake. Now that he saw her working with the team, he actually found her a little scary. The Ozzmar refugee attacked the training simulations with a skill and ferocity that none of them had expected. In a hand to hand fight she could handle a Hunter-Killer better than any of them.

He watched her effortlessly rattle a precise series of shells from her cannon across a simulated foe, rocking the Scraegan backwards before switching deftly to her blade-and-shield combo. In a fluid motion she detached the blast shield from her shoulder, locking it in the grip of her right hand as she unsheathed her war-blade in the other without breaking stride. As the Scraegan tipped down towards her she swung the shield up in a vicious arc beneath its chin. The impact smashing the thing's head upwards, revealing the throat armour. With startling savageness she surged up and slammed the blade into the armour in three hammering motions.

The simulated monster fell, and winked out of existence in death.

The rest of the squadron continued their advance through the urban battlefield that had been erected on the training field, practicing the clearing of a cramped environment in the bulk of the Hunter-Killers. Normal people's lives weren't scaled to match the armoured behemoths, and clearing an urban zone required more than simple extermination. The humans needed to do more than just kill-or-be-killed. They needed to defend their towns and cities without letting them be smashed to ruins in the process. If an attack was beaten off only for the town to be evacuated in the aftermath, it would render the defence pyrrhic.

So the team focused on swift, surgical strikes, setting up ambush points and kill zones to wipe out the maximum number of enemies with minimal collateral damage. The Greens excelled at the tightly packed engagements, moving quickly and decisively as they cleared out Scraegan attack packs. The Goliaths choked up the major junctions with withering fire, drawing the enemies into tight corridors where the Riot and Raptor mechs could collapse.

"All units, stand down!" Mulrough called as they finished their clear of the urban zone. Ryke's eyes flashed up to the timer in the top right corner of his HUD, and he grinned when he saw they'd shaved several minutes off their personal best and taken no casualties in the process.

"Nice hustle, Greens," the drill sergeant confirmed. "Walk it out and return your HKs to the main hanger for shakedown."

"Copy that," Kazem replied on behalf of them all. "Squad Green on me – fall out."

The ten Hunter-Killers loped from the combat zone in a snaking line following Kazem's lead, passing the mechs of Squad Red as they prepared for their own run at the urban gauntlet. Ryke felt at ease now within his machine, no longer having to concentrate so hard on maintaining his balance or the length of his stride. Long hours in the Hunter-Killers had pressed the muscle memory into him – if anything he felt odder outside of the mech than inside.

Returning to the main hangar, they guided their machines into their holdfasts, thick waist claws locking into place, technicians swarming over them to check over their charges. The HUD flickered away as his mech powered down, its chest plate splitting open and permitting the glare of the hangar to spill over him.

Reluctantly unlocking his hands and feet from the fastenings, Ryke clambered from the Hunter-Killer and descended the stepladder that had been swiftly pushed into place by one of the technicians.

"The shoulder gyro feels stiff," he told the woman as he set foot on the hangar floor. "I can't get a smooth swing out of it."

The attendant cast a critical eye over the part in question and nodded. "Leave it with me. Probably some wear on the shock bearings."

"Thanks." He flashed a swift salute before joining the others as they exited their mechs, making their way out of the hangar and towards the mess hall to shovel in their lunch before another afternoon session with Major Buchanan.

They left the Hunter-Killer bay as a group, laughing and joking, firing insults back and forth as they went. The weeks had slowly eroded away the tension that Thaye and Laquen's arrival brought, the sheer effort of the training rendering such petty grievances meaningless.

That, and the fact that Squad Green was fast becoming the best unit from the new intake. They reliably bested other units in clear times, target practice and one to one combat. The momentum perpetuated itself as each success pulled them together tighter, until none of the rookie squadrons could match them.

He strode through the hangar with them, trading playful jabs with Preese as they moved. Thaye was draped over Brigg's broad shoulders in a piggy-back, while Vela and Jarrko traded barbs – the two Raptor pilots having developed a friendly rivalry as they tried to outstrip one and other in speed.

As they made their way towards the hangar exit, a flicker of movement from the direction of the main gate caught Ryke's eye and he turned to look. His brow furrowed. The vehicle currently streaking towards the hangar thrummed a meter off the ground, the haze of thrusters filling the empty space between its blade-shaped hull and the ground. A Scout Corp skimmer, his mind prompted. The others didn't notice as he began to lag, his gaze snagged by the newcomer as it drew closer.

The grumble of the boosters swelled as the skimmer ate up the ground between them, a thin tail of dust swirling in its wake. The obsidian spear of metal slewed to a halt not far from him, lowering into a dock cradle in one of the sub-bays near the entrance. Spider-like limbs folded out beneath it as it lowered, catching the skimmer in place. A side door slid open and several figures in grey overalls piled out onto the hangar floor.

To his shock, he realised he recognised one of them.

"Kelso?!" Ryke exclaimed in disbelief, eyes flying wide open as the skimmer was withdrawn into its berth by the mechanical dock clamps.

One of the newcomers twisted towards him, confirming his suspicion. For a moment his brother stared in confusion before his lit up in recognition.

"By the Riverlords – Ryke is that you?" Kelso jogged away from his compatriots and Ryke needed no second bidding to go sprinting towards him.

"It is you," Ryke laughed.

"Well, drown me!" Kelso grinned, striding forward with arms open. Ryke lunged into the embrace, wrapping his arms around his brother's lean, brawny frame and squeezing tight, not quite believing that he was really here.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted as they stepped apart. "I mean, I thought you didn't make the Hunter-Killers... sorry I just..." Only then did he look his brother up and down and realise he didn't recognise the uniform. He wore a set of steel-coloured overalls with a black eye emblazoned on one shoulder. The other bore a pair of rank bars, stitched in red.

"Ryke – calm down," Kelso laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't make the Hunter-Killers as a pilot, but they saw how much prep I'd done on HK training, combat tactics and deployment patterns. They transferred me direct to a combat support brigade and here I am. Specialist First Class Kelso Vannigan, fully qualified Hunter-Killer Operational Liaison Officer."

"That's a mouthful."

"Tell me about it."

"So what do you do?"

"When Hunter-Killers deploy out in the field I'll be the little voice in their ear telling them where to go and what to kill." A dangerous smile glimmered at the corners of his mouth. "It's operational support. When you're on the ground I'll have my eyes on the big picture."

Ryke beamed; thrilled from head to toe that his brother had finally found a niche that suited him. No amount of behind the scenes work could guarantee entry to the Hunter-Killers if you didn't have the aptitude, but it gave him a measure of confidence to see that Brekka's military valued Kelso's dedication nonetheless.

"So are you going to be working with us now?" he asked.

To his surprise, Kelso's face darkened. His brother glanced back at the members of the scout infantry and bit his lip. "I can't talk about it right here, Ryke." Then he leaned in closer, speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone. "What's your squadron?"

"Squad Green, why?"

"We're heading out together – that's all I can say right now. Not a word to your squad, alright? You'll all get a briefing soon. I'll see you later."

Before Ryke could open his mouth Kelso was walking away, back to his unit and leaving the young Hunter-Killer pilot standing baffled in the middle of the training concourse. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he jogged off to rejoin his squad mates, a tingle of apprehension in the back his mind from Kelso's words.

*

Their afternoon session with Major Buchanan didn't happen. Instead, the Greens along with their comrades in Squad Red found themselves shepherded aside by an earnest liaison officer from the base staff. The twenty rookie pilots fell into step behind him, moving at a brisk jog across the main concourse to a building directly opposite the training house. Hushed murmured flitted back and forth between them as they went, and Ryke had to fight to keep his mouth shut. His stomach flipped with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

We're going out together.

A real operation. That was what Kelso had told him. But what kind of operation necessitated bringing along two rookie squadrons who were still learning the intricacies of Hunter-Killer combat? They'd been improving at a steady pace, but Ryke couldn't say with confidence that they were really ready for a combat operation.

Apparently it was out of his hands now.

They entered the bunker-like structure on the far side of the base, its squat metal exterior blistered with camera mounts and gun positions, and passed through a series of low-ceilinged passages lit by antiseptic white lights. Pairs of armed guards stood station at regular intervals, sharp eyes watching the recruits from behind armoured visors.

The liaison officer led them through another set of silently sliding armoured doors and they emerged into what looked like some kind of command operations post. Several figures were scattered around the room and at their centre stood a squat octagonal plinth easily ten feet across. The plinth shimmered with a crimson landscape – some portion of Rychter beyond the city, Ryke assumed. On the far side of the table he saw Kelso standing, hands clasped behind his back. He caught his brother's eye; gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement, but otherwise kept his professionalism, following the others to form up in front of the waiting officers.

Squad Green formed two crisp ranks of five to the left. A heavily built boy named Fallker in command of Squad Red hissed an order for his pilots to do the same. After a moment the scuffle of feet subsided and silence descended on the room.

"Good afternoon," snapped a grey haired man in the black livery of the Scout Corps. He stepped out from behind the table and Ryke spotted the three interlocked circles on the shoulder of his uniform – a Command-Lieutenant. "My name is Lieutenant Gonquine. You're in this room because you're the best performing Hunter-Killer Squadrons from our new intake."

He must've seen the shimmer of smiles and knowing looks that passed through the recruits.

"Don't let it go to your head," Gonquine snorted. "The last thing you can afford is complacency. As I'm sure you're aware, Scraegan attacks have been getting bigger and more frequent over the past several months. Resources are stretched thin right now to cover all the vulnerable territory south of Brekka. A lot of people live out there and they don't have the walls to hide behind."

Ryke swallowed hard, exchanging a dubious look with Jarrko as the man continued.

"Because of the current situation, we're in the uncomfortable position of accelerating your training more that I'd like. You will be assigned as support squadrons to one of our HK units being dispatched to Alldeep." Turning, Gonquine beckoned them forward as he stepped back to the table. "Gather round." Obediently the rookie pilots formed a loose semi-circle looking in on the octagon display, at which point Gonquine nodded to Kelso. "Specialist – the floor's yours."

"Sir." Kelso saluted crisply and stepped forward, a command slate resting in the crook of his left arm. He held his head high as he addressed the recruits. "For those who don't know, Alldeep is a mining settlement a few hundred miles to the south west of Brekka, part of the heavy-railroad line that follows the Bronchite Ridge up from the badlands." As he spoke his fingers flew effortlessly along the command-slate, and the map morphed to mimic his words. A rid ridge of rock appeared, marked with stamps of geometric white text that indicated settlements. Ryke recognised some of the names.

Some of those places didn't exist anymore.

"Long range seismics at Brekka command have detected a small Scraegan force heading for Alldeep. The bulk of Brekka's active HK forces are already in the field securing the towns in the Ozzmar region in the aftermath of their last attack, so we're scrambling what we have to intercept them. We've requested additional forces be dispatched from the northern cities, but until they arrive we've got a lot of ground to cover. That's where you come in."

Another tap of the pad zoomed the map in on the semi-circular stud of Alldeep. Ryke couldn't help but marvel at how at ease Kelso seemed. His brother couldn't have been qualified for long, but he carried himself with the easy confidence of a veteran, as though this was a briefing he'd given a hundred times before. The town in question was build into the massive crest of the Bronchite Ridge – a fifty foot spine of mineral-rich rock that snaked up out of the badlands to scar the face of Rychter's southern reaches. A compact arrangement of concentric homes, factories and warehouses, it was like dozens of others on the planet.

But just as Gonquine said, Alldeep lacked the formidable walls of Brekka.

"You'll deploy via Mammoth to the north of Alldeep," Kelso continued, tapping his pad to generate a pulsing white dot to show their deployment area. "The only thing we have going for us is the ridge itself – it's much denser than the rock the Scraegan's normally burrow through, so it'll grant you an easy defensive position facing out into the badlands. From deployment HK Squadron Bishop will take the lead and move out to engage the Scraegan pack before they can reach Alldeep itself. We'll deploy seismic charges to force them to the surface and with any luck drive them off before they can do any damage."

"And without luck?" Fallker asked, his voice tight as he stared at the crimson display.

"That's why you're going too," Kelso replied. "The Scraegans can only come from one direction, but that's still a lot of ground for a single HK squadron to cover. Your job is to deal with any stragglers or splinter groups that get out of the main fight to try and reach Alldeep itself. Keep them contained and drive them away from the settlement.

"This is not a death or glory assignment," Lieutenant Gonquine interjected. "You are there to defend Alldeep – nothing else. Understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Ryke snapped with the others.

"Alright then." Gonquine nodded, turning and making a sweeping gesture to a slim figure lurking off in the shadows. "Then I believe it's time you met the commanding officer of HK-Bishop who will be in charge of the ground operation."

The figure stepped from the dark and Ryke found himself staring. The commander of the veteran squadron appraised them dubiously with eyes as sharp as emeralds. She was tall, with a taut sinewy frame exaggerated by the link-skin, and bore a thick ponytail of dark hair that snaked down between her shoulder blades.

But the thing that really struck him was just how young she looked. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, but this woman commanded a Hunter-Killer unit. More than that, she'd been commanding it for more some time if she was leading an entire combat operation.

"Sergeant Parnell," she said flatly, extending a hand first to Kazem and then to Fallker. "Callsign, 'Ratchet'. Let's make something abundantly clear before we set foot beyond those gates. We will be entering an active combat situation, where my word will be law. You will follow our lead to the letter. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the two rookie squad leaders snapped back crisply.

Parnell nodded. "Your role in this operation is a supportive one, but the Scraegans have a way of making plans unravel. You may well have yourselves a taste of real combat before we come back here. Make sure your pilots are ready for that. You've got to cut your teeth somewhere."

Ryke exhaled slowly at her cold declaration, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

"When are we heading out?" Kazem asked, holding her gaze.

"We deploy in eighteen hours," Kelso called from the table display. "We have action orders for squad leaders here. You're out of training this afternoon – use that time to familiarise yourself with your combat zone, then get some sleep. You're going to need it."