Furnace (Hunter-Killer #1)

Chapter 05 - News Travels Fast

"Green One, standing by," came Kazem's voice, a throaty rasp through the comm link.

Ryke nodded his head as each number counted off. The voice of a demure northerner named Colbey spoke into his ear, and then it was his turn.

"Green Five, standing by," he said, doing his best to keep his voice firm under Mulrough's scrutiny. Vela followed up in an instant, and on the count went until Amelia's voice chirped shrilly through the speakers.

"Green Ten, standing by... err... sir!"

"Keep it short and sweet, princess," Mulrough snapped over the comm. "This is a combat check. If you're engaged your squad leader needs to know who's still in fighting shape at the end of it. Scraegan attacks don't just stop dead. You'll get waves of the bastards so you'll need to adapt and reform on the fly."

He didn't wait for her reply though, calling Squad Yellow to finish the roll call of the pilots until all forty of the new recruits were fully accounted for.

"Very good, you've proved you can count," the drill sergeant drawled. "But you're gonna need to do more than that if you want to take on a Scraegan. Form up by Squads – Yellow, Blue, Green then Red. I want skirmish lines, ten meter spacing. You're going to need the room in a combat operation. Move it!"

There was a brief instant of milling and Ryke found himself hesitating, not sure where exactly to move to, glancing uncertainly at the nearby members of Squad Green.

"Greens," Kazem's voice sounded suddenly. "Get in line on me! Odds to my left – evens to my right."

For a moment Ryke felt a twinge of indignation at being ordered around by another recruit, but he quickly quashed it. Kazem's quick thinking soon had the others moving towards him, so Ryke swallowed his pride and followed them, stumping his way past Kazem and the other odd numbered recruits until he reached the far left of their line. He glanced back along to check his distance from Green Three – a wiry ochre-skinned lad named Preese – and edged along until his HUD confirmed he was standing at the ten meter mark.

In position, Ryke looked down the line of figure outlined in gleaming blue, identification markers blinking into life next to each of them. Squad Green was easily the first to form a full rank, lined up behind the still milling members of Squad Blue. After a minute or two of directionless shambling the others eventually wrestled themselves into skirmish lines. Even this simple exercise quickly separated the rank-and-file from those who had aspirations for something further, as some recruits took it upon themselves to shove and shout their comrades into position.

"Greens, good hustle," Mulrough grated. "This is your standard skirmish line formation for a Hunter-Killer Squadron. You need to move as a unit, speed and distance constant, able to collapse and disperse at a moment's notice. Scraegan's hit hard and fast – you have to do the same."

Ryke allowed himself the glimmer of a smile – 'good hustle' was just about the highest praise Sergeant Mulrough was capable of giving. The stab of annoyance he'd felt at Kazem usurping the leadership role quickly faded away as he listened intently to their next set of instructions. With several hundred yards of empty space allocated for their practice manoeuvres the recruits had a lot of room for error, and Mulrough wasted none of it.

Squad Yellow set off first, under Mulrough's critical eye, pounding their way across the concourse and immediately Ryke knew they were all in for a long, long day. The formation devolving into a zig-zagging mess as some recruits out paced the others, racing ahead without checking, and others lagged behind as they struggled to get to grips with this new mode of motion.