Текст книги "Shrapnel: Fragments from the Inner Sphere"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Danforth

Соавторы: William H. Keith,Ken St. Andre,Jordan K. Weisman,Michael A. Stackpole
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

‘Roger that, Captain. I won't be longer than four minutes.’

A clearing appeared on the left, blasted out of the forest by the day's missile fire. The Shadow Hawkturned into it and came back down the trail. He could see nothing of the ambush site. Good,St. George thought. We wait and see if they took the bait.

‘Here he comes, bold as brass,’ Ll-pescue called out. ‘It's the Rifleman,all right. He's coming on at what passes for a run in those cans. He doesn't see me, though. Looks like he's dead on your trail.’

‘Don't tip our hand, Lippy. I want him.’

‘Oh, sir. you wound me.’ The Crusaderpilot's voice was ironic.

The wait seemed to stretch from seconds into hours. They had to strike and get out now, or risk being cut off.

‘A little closer. C'mon,’ the trooper coaxed. ‘There you go. Don't be afraid.’ There came a ground-shaking concussion that the Captain could feel through his 'Mech's armor. ‘Gotcha!’ Lipescue exalted. ‘Twelve SRMs, straight into the right-turret arm. Blew the sucker right off. There're parts flying everywhere.’

The Captain bolted back down the trail in time to see the maimed Riflemanturn to bring its undamaged arm to bear on its tormentor. Lipescue's Crusaderwas pumping laser fire into the injured 'Mech, but its pilot seemed oblivious to the damage.

‘Here comes the cavalry,’ St. George yelled.

As the distance closed, the Shadow Hawkopened up on the left turret arm with its autocannon and laser. Chunks of machinery flew from the Rifleman,but it refused to go down. The Steiner 'Mech's autocannon began to blow chunks out of the forest behind Lipescue's Crusader,which would lock down on him in an instant.

The Shadow Hawkskidded to a stop and let go a volley of SRMs at the Steiner 'Mech. The Rifleman'sautocannon and laser arm swept fire across the Crusader'storso plates. The Crusaderunleashed a volley of twelve SRMs straight into the relentless weapon arm. engulfing the valiant Riflemanin a hell of 14 simultaneous SRM impacts. When the flash died away, the Riflemanwas left a smoking pillar, armless and afire, but still standing.

‘That was one tough bastard,’ murmured the Crusaderpilot. ‘I'm getting out of here before he blows.’

‘How're you. Lippy? He managed to get his guns to bear there at the end.’

The Crusaderheaded up the path toward St, George. ‘Battered but unbowed, Captain. He only nicked me!’ The 'Mech showed the scorch of the Steiner's laser, but seemed functionally unimpaired.

‘Double time, trooper. We've got too many hostile callers to linger here too long.’ The Captain took a last look back down the path as the Crusaderpassed him by. His heat sensors picked up something very big and very hot coming through the forest along the path he had made. This time, he could see other 'Mechs traveling parallel to the path, smashing their own way through the undergrowth. Leaving the smoldering Riflemanbehind. Captain St. George headed back to the 131st Battalion's lines.

‘Oh great, when did the rain start?’ St. George reached the position behind the ridge, where the Swords of St. George were dug in.

‘It was a couple of minutes ago. Cap'n. ‘

St George could make out the form of his unit's top noncommissioned officer, Master Sergeant Allen McHaigh. The venerable old Wolverine-Mthat McHaigh piloted bulked out of the gathering gloom like a moving house.

‘Report. Sergeant McHaigh. What is our position and our unit strength?’

‘We're dug in behind this ridgeline for about a klick in either direction. What good this diggin' in is going to do, I can't tell. A and D companies have already pulled out.'

‘McHaigh, the unit strength.’

Yes. sir. Company B ot the 131 st battalion now consists of Lipescue's Crusader,your Shadow Hawk,and this old can of paint. Swords Three can toss in a Hermes II.a Wasp,and a Stingerthat we might as well leave behind. As for Harris's boys in Swords One, there's his Hunchback,another Wasp.and a Locustthat's about as useful as that Stingerin Three,’

‘Where's Bryant? He was supposed to be here before Lippy and I got back.’

‘Don't know, sir. There's been a lot of activity back in our old position. We've not heard a word.’

The Captain's mind raced. Unit strength was down by a fourth, two of his unit commanders out. His support positions were falling back behind him. The only good thing was that the rain would hamper the fighters as much as it would slow down his troops. It could be worse.

‘What the hell is that coming across that field?’ The voice was Sergeant Hams.

‘Geez, Sarge.’ called one of the Swords One's troopers. ‘It's a Wasp.Looks like one of ours. He's at a dead run. Waving his arms to beat the band.’

‘It's Bryant.’ Captain St. George cut in. ‘Harris, take Swords One out to meet him. Get him back to this position.’

‘Yes. sir! C'mon, Swords! We've got work to do!’

A twinkling of weapons fire on the left betrayed the previously invisible position of his company's left flank. The fire was answered by more sinister twinkling in the sky overhead. The ground rocked to missile and cannon fire from the Steiner fighters.

‘Hold your fire, everyone.’ There was steel in St George's tone. ‘The fighters are pinpointing us in this gloom by our weapons fire. The rain's reduced our heat signatures, so they're grasping at straws.’

‘Cap'n St George, Harris here. We're on our way back.’

‘Any casualties, Sergeant?’

‘Our Locustsslowed a bit, but he's not reporting any serious damage. We got off light. The damn fighters blew it wide.’

'When you get Bryant back here. I want you to take your lance and fall back. There should be a road about three klicks south of here. Fall back to that point unless you encounter our troops dug in and holding.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Sergeant McHaigh, you heard that?’

‘Aye, sir. You'll be bringing up the rear with Two, then, sir?’

‘Aye, yourself, McHaigh. Now fall back.’

The Captain could see the salient they had worked so hard to punch into the Lyran forces being squeezed like a tube of survival rations. He was becoming more and more uneasy about the fact that it was a mere unit protecting the regiment's rear.

The Waspstood directly in front of his Shadow Hawk.The trooper was bellowing a report over his onboard loud speaker. ‘Then they came in fighters, and I lost my radio to a near miss.’

‘Is that when you decided to disobey orders, and probe the enemy force, trooper?’ St. George cut in.

‘Well, sir, I could see them moving about a bit. They seemed content to hang back, so I loosed a few rounds. Then I shut down everything but leg servomotors to cut down the I.R. signature, and moved up under cover of the rain.’

‘Go on, Bryant What did your little sojourn net us?’

‘Yes, sir. What we've got up front there are Lyran regulars. At least one medium lance. That's what's been laying in the rocket fire on us until now. When I got close enough, though, I could see elements of an Assault Lance moving up. Over where one used to be was another medium lance, and a lot of light stuff. Recon, maybe.’ Selfconsciously, the trooper added, ‘I kinda got lost and ended up going a little sideways, or I wouldn't a been late, sir.’

'That's good enough for now, Bryant We'll talk more about this later.’ Captain St George paused, then added, ‘Join the Sergeant and get ready to fall back. And try not to get lost on the way, trooper.’

‘Sir? Yes, sir.’ The Waspmoved off into the rain.

‘McHaigh?’

‘Aye?’

‘We've got what looks like the elements of a Steiner battalion on the front and the left. The forces Lipescue and I ran into were all members of Hansen's Roughriders, a merc unit of at least battalion-strength. We're outnumbered at least four or six to one on this front We can't hold out against that and their air superiority. Take Bryant and get back to Harris at the road.’

There was a moment of silence while the unit's top Sergeant took the information under consideration. ‘Any word from Battalion. Force Commander Keshii?’

‘Sergeant, the only thing I'm getting from Battalion is a lot of static. The 131st is being probed all up and down the length of the salient.’ To himself, the Captain said, They've probably already run out on us. damn It‘It might be a good idea if you keep to the center of the corridor as you fall back. Narrow our front to about one klick and form up as two lances. Then hold up with one while the other falls back. Like our thrust out, only in reverse.’

‘And in miniature, sir. Don't worry. I'll hold the babes together, and we won't lose touch with you and Lippy.’ With that the Sergeant broke contact, gathered Bryant, and moved off.

St George switched to operational and tried to reach the unit that was, he fervently hoped, still holding the power plant.

‘Swords, calling Seguin's Strikers, come in. This is Cyrus St. George calling for Julian Sequin.’

‘What the Hell do you want. Academy boy? We're just a little too busy here for social calls.’

St George recognized the irritating whine of the mercenary Captain whose unit had been attached to the 33rd regiment for the duration of this assault. ‘Drop dead. Seguin. I need to know anything you can tell me about Hansen's Roughriders.’

‘What I'll tell you is that I'm taking my lads and getting out of there because we'll be too damn close to them as well. They are a regiment backed up by an air wing and assault units. Alone, they're a match for the 131st on its best day. Offense intended.’

It was worse than the Captain had figured. ‘The ones we blew up didn't seem that tough, Seguin.’

‘Just you wait and see—now that you've gone and made them mad.’ The merc Captain's tone had changed, though St. George could not identify what it was. ‘Did you call just to count your kills? If so, we're a little busy here, St. George.’

‘I’m out here at the end of the line. Seguin. Tell me the status of the 131st. What's the salient look like from there?’

‘What salient, boyo? You're the only intact unit still in there. All that's left are odd 'Mechs too slow to run or guys who didn't get the message. The rest have been pouring through here like there was no tomorrow. Which, according to Regimental, seems to be the case.’

‘Great,’ Captain St. George snarled. ‘Tell me one thing, you damned pirate. Will you and your rats hold the end of the sack open until we get there?’

There was a long silence before Captain Seguin's voice came back, all business. ‘How far out are you, St. George?’

Now to give him the bad news. ‘About 13 kilometers.’

‘Well, Academy boy, there are still some rats running out down the line, and that will keep the bag from closing on you further up. at least for a while. The merc Captain paused. ‘My lads and I are more than a match for any bunch of Academy boys, Steiners, or Mariks. We'll hold until you get here. Mind you, boyo. We stay until you come down the pipe. Till then, you're on your own.’

‘Seguin, if you're not there when I get there, I'll come looking for you. Got it?’

‘Sounds like fun, Academy boy.’

Something cut in on the mercenary's tactical band. St George couldn't hear what was said, but when Seguin picked up the ops link again, his voice was subdued.

‘You'd best hurry if you want to get your babes out of this mess in one piece, boyo.’ The merc sounded grim.

‘Roger. CaptainSeguin.’ St. George signed off.

‘Roger yourself, CaptainSt. George.’ To himself, the merc Captain said, And good luck. You're gonna need it!

St. George turned to Lipescue. ‘What's your LRM supply look like, Lippy?’

‘After the last twelve hours, I'm mighty low on all the consumables. SRMs are lowest one volley left, both launchers. LRMs. two volleys.’ The veteran didn't sound all that concerned, despite the fact that without his missiles, his Crusaderwas little better armed than a light 'Mech.

‘O.K., Lippy, now we wait. The Steiners should be coming in a few minutes.’

The two giant battle machines stood silently just at the edge of each other's vision. Over the com. the men inside listened to the sounds of Keshii's 131 st battalion coming apart at the seams, unable to withstand the force of superior air power and ever-increasing ground strength.

My god.St. George thought. Where are the Lyrans getting all this firepower?

‘Captain?’ It was Lipescue, on tactical.

‘Got something coming?’ St. George scanned the right side of the front, where he expected to see the leading edge of Hansen's Roughriders any second.

‘Yep. Three recon 'Mechs, moving up. Look like regular Lyrans. No merc support.’ Lipescue's voice was calm.

‘Get a lock on one. Let me know when you have something.’ The Captain's mind snapped back to his unit.

‘McHaigh, are you in place?’ he called to his two retreating lances.

‘Aye. Cap'n. They haven't clamped down yet Also, sir, I've picked up calls from an element of Leonard's Lions. A pair of Riflemenabout three klicks to our rear. Their unit bugged out piecemeal and left those two cans to fend for themselves. I took the liberty of telling them that they were to hold until we get to them. I also told them that they were now members of The Swords of St. George, and that they should remember that St. George looks after his own.’

‘Very good, Sergeant. Do you think they'll be there when we get there?’

‘Well, my little speech seemed to buck them up. And the thought that a company was coming to back them up seemed to please the hell out of them...’

‘I've got one of the little beggars locked.’ Lipescue broke in.

‘Let him have it. Lippy! Then fall back at the run. They'll bring in the damned fighters on your rocket flare.’

‘We're on our way. Sergeant.’ St George told McHaigh.

To the Captain's left the flare of the Crusadersrockets lit the falling rain. He could see the giant machine begin to fall back even before the glare had subsided. The intensity of the rain dampened the effectiveness of his I.R. sensors, and so he could not make out the advancing enemy line. Then he felt the barrage hit. He too fell back.

Behind them, the ground rocked as the rain-blinded fighters groped for their Mechs.

The ground rolled beneath them, as the warriors covered the three kilometers to the company's position in what seemed to be an instant.

Captain St George burst into the center of the Swords' formation bellowing orders. ‘McHaigh, take Swords Three and Bryant, and fall back to those Riflemen.Then hold. Got that?’

His veteran Sergeant responded in the affirmative, and began to pull his unit out.

‘Harris, you and Swords One, stick with me and Lippy.’ The Captain's mind raced to put all his plans together. Using the company band, he called out, ‘O.K., Swords, this is how it goes. We're out of air support, but as long as the rain holds, we're reasonably safe. Don't stay in one place after you fire. Move at least fifty meters in any direction. The fighters will hit your last spot hard. We are also about nine kilometers from our lines, and it looks like we can expect very little support on the way back. Sergeant McHaigh is falling back three klicks to pick us up some reinforcements and dig in. Swords One will hold here until he calls us from his position. Then we'll fall back through his line three klicks, and hold for him. We will continue to fire and fall back through each other until we reach our own lines. Has everyone got that?’ There was a smattering of yeses, punctuated by Lippy's customary ‘Yo’.

‘Harris, take the left flank. Lippy, you take the right. Everyone keep your eyes open and on those I.R. sensors.’

The rain closed in around the troops, locking each 'Mech into a blank walled box. Were it not for their instruments, each man in Captain St George's unit would have thought himself abandoned St. George could see the thin steam of the rain frying off his heat sinks, and thanked whatever battlefield luck had brought this deluge. Without it, his Swords would be lost.

Damn it,he thought. What's taking McHaigh so long? Their retreat from the front didn’t take this long.

‘Harris. Anything?’

‘No, Captain. All clear.’ The Sergeant's voice seemed surer than when he had first reported his Lieutenant's loss at the front

‘Lippy?’

‘Safe and sound, Cap'n. You're not nervous are you, Cap'n? Those Steiners won't even reach here until tomorrow. They still think we're setting them up.’ There was humor in the veteran's voice that St. George didn't share.

‘Just remember, Lipescue, you indolent scrap dealer, they've got a merc unit out there to show up if they're too lazy.’

‘That's O.K., sir. We took them down a peg. They'll think twice, too.’ It seemed nothing was going to dampen Lippy's spirits.

‘Captain St George? Harris. I've got some movement to our rear, about 500 meters back.’

‘I'll move over to take your end, Harris. You get back there and report.’ St George wished fervently for a heavier contingent of machines. A Battle Masterwould make all the difference in the world right now. As he moved to cover the left flank, he reflected on the fact that a Locustand a Waspwere holding the center of his line If the Steiners pushed even halfway hard, the center would fall through.

Suddenly the dogs of war erupted in full cry, as every receiver channel in the Captain's Mech started to bellow at once. On Regimental, he heard the order to board the DropShips!

Over the battalion frequency, which till now seemed given over to chaos, came the voice of Captain Patel, Force Commander Keshii's second-in-command. He was ordering all units of the 131st. however scattered, to form up on the spaceport.

On his company frequency came the voice of Sergeant McHaigh calling for support. His position was under a probing attack, at least lance-strength at both ends of his line.

To cap off the pandemonium, Sergeant Harris's voice cried out over Swords One's tactical frequency, ‘Captain St. George, I've gota Wolverineleading a lance trying to cut us off. Engaging to prevent penetration.’

‘Swords One. pivot on the lett flank and fall back 500 meters. Look for Sergeant Harris and hostile action. Lippy, fall back 500 meters. You are officially the right flank and the middle. If anything turns up, report, then fall back to McHaigh's position.

Captain St. George fell back. He could see the firing. As he approached the battle, he could feel the ground vibration caused by the Hunchback'sautocannon 20. Harris at least was still up and active.

The gusting rain parted like a curtain on a stage, and for a brief instant. St. George could see the entire field of battle for about a kilometer in all directions. There, dominating the muddy grey-green field, was Harris's Hunchback,gouts of flame pouring from the massive autocannon. In front of the Hunchback,belching a thick rope of oily smoke, stood the Steiner Wolverine,burst open in a hideous manner. Spread out over the field, three other 'Mechs moved up. Two were indistinct, right on the edge of the next marching line of rain. The third squatted on huge birdlike haunches, its blunt, bullet-shaped fuselage unmistakable. It was a Stalker,one of the most formidable fire support 'Mechs ever built.

‘Harris, punch out!’ St. George convulsively fired all his weaponry at the Stalkeras though he could call back the fist of doom about to be unleashed on the Hunchback.As the Captain watched in horror, the assault Mech loosed its full barrage of long– and short-range missiles at the doughty Hunchback.A shattered comet with a tail of black smoke slammed into the Sergeant's 'Mech. In an instant, it dissolved in flames, a pyre from which there was no escape. With the finality of that closing act, the squall line swallowed the ‘actors’ like a fadeout.

We gotta get out of here,St. George's mind screamed. We're trapped.Instead of giving in to these fears, the Captain's voice rang out with unnatural calm over tactical. ‘Swords One, fall back on the double. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to engage any enemy forces on the way, but fall back on McHaigh's position immediately.’

‘Lippy. you still have one more LRM salvo?’

‘Yo. I was kinda hoping to save that one for my scrapbook.’

Though the veteran's attempt at humor was welcome, the image of Harris's 'Mech vanishing under the Stalkersassault had cooled the Captain's taste for banter. ‘Be ready to fire on the run, at my target coordinates, on my command. Now fall back.’

The terse orders had the desired effect. The sole reply was a crisp ‘Yo’. St. George moved through the rain in a direct line toward McHaigh's men, a line that would take him straight into the path of the Steiner Stalker.There was no sign of the giant assault 'Mech. The Steiners must have seen his forces moving up and mistaken them for something more than what they were. Harris's determined resistance must have misled them into thinking he had powerful back-up. St. George strode past the remains of the Hunchback.It looked nothing like the manshaped machine it had once been. The pieces were so small that most of the flames had already gone out in the downpour.

Out of the rain loomed the distant heat signatures of a line of Mechs firing to the right and left. ‘McHaigh?’ The question was superfluous. ‘Aye, Cap'n.’ The Sergeant's voice sounded happier than he had a right to be. ‘You can fall back through us, sir. We got a little help, though they won't stay long. Or so they say.’

‘Help? Who?’ the Captain couldn't think who was left. Regimental was pulling out, and battalion had come apart.

A third voice cut in, ‘Wake up, Academy boy. The Steiners are hot on your tail, and I don't intend to stand by here forever, just so you don't get your machines dirty.’

‘Seguin, what the hell? I thought you were going to but out if we got caught up the line.’ The Captain was astonished that the mere had stuck his neck out for them.

‘Academy boy, you make me regret coming back for you. You're the only one of the tin soldiers on this whole planet that hasn't come completely apart. You stick up for your men. And you took in those two orphaned Rifleman,stiffening them up enough so that they would stay alone in the salient until McHaigh...’

‘Sergeant McHaigh,’ McHaigh said. ‘...SergeantMcHaigh could come for them.’ The mercenary Captain paused to catch his breath. ‘Let's just say I'm impressed. Now don't go and spoil it by standing around here all teary-eyed with thanks.’

‘Swords of St. George,’ the Captain growled into the radio. ‘Fall back to the power plant. On the double.’

The battered Swords formed up and began to fall back, and Captain St. George joined them.

‘How do you like that? Not even a 'thank you kindly, Captain Seguin'.’ The mere's tone indicated he hadn't expected one.

‘He's got a lot on his mind,– you old pirate.’ Sergeant McHaigh put in before he. too, turned and walked off into the rain.

The Captain of Seguin's Strikers watched them go. He'd hit upon the most effective way to slow down the regular Lyran forces. He hoped the confusion would slow Hansen's Roughriders, too. At least enough for the Academy boy to get away. Now,he thought, how does that speech go? Something about being an unemployed mercenary unit looking for a hire. Yes. that sounded about right.

The Swords of St George raced through the power plant, and into the city. The rain that had hidden them throughout the retreat diminished to a drizzle.

‘McHaigh, we'll take parallel streets back to the spaceport. You take Swords Three and Swords Two, and head back on the main drag. I'll take what's left of One and our two new recruits...’—the Captain surveyed the map on his tactical readout—’and follow you by 30 seconds on this side street off to the left. It seems to make it almost all the way to the port.’

‘Aye, sir. You'll be our reserve. If anyone cuts us off, that is.’

‘That's affirmative, Mac. If you encounter any resistance, move around it, if you can. Anything too tough to move around, we'll just have to punch through.’ Before St. George could say anything further, they were interrupted. All the 'Mechs froze for an instant. The sound was like a roll of thunder that went on and on. The company's Mechs scattered, each trying to find some kind of building to squeeze up against for cover. The sound reached a crescendo, the roar of a fighter wing coming in low. The evil-looking Seydlitzfighters flashed past overhead.

‘Lord, that was a full wing of Lyran fighters.’ Breaking in on St. George's battalion frequency, the unfamiliar voice came from one of the Riflemen.

‘He's right Cap'n,’ added Lipescue. ‘They were heading straight for the port!’

‘McHaigh, move out. Now!’ St George ordered. ‘Keep to the sides of the road, but go. on the double.’

With a hasty ‘aye,’ the Sergeant's Wolverinemoved off at the head of a column of six 'Mechs. the remains of two of St. George's lances.

On Battalion, St. George contacted the Riflemen.‘Are you ready to move out?’

One of the Riflemenraised its right weapons arm. and a voice over the radio came back. ‘I'm Corporal Jones. The lady in the other 'Mech is Private Cho. We're with you all the way.’

‘O.K.. Jones, you're my backup. We're moving out on this side road. If anything goes wrong, you'll get hold of Sergeant-Major McHaigh immediately. Got that?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then follow me on the double.’ With that, the Captain took off after his retreating lances.

The sky in the direction of the spaceport was being ripped and torn by the contrails of gyrating fighters. Even as Captain St. George watched anxiously, a DropShip clawed through the swarm trying to reach deep space.

The Swords moved through the vacant city unobstructed. The pace they set caused the heat to rise to unbearable levels in his own Shadow Hawk.St. George knew It was the same for all his men, but he dared not stop.

The fighting over the port continued. Communications from Regimental had stopped minutes ago. The only sounds coming over his radio were reports from his own company.

McHaigh reached the gates. ‘We're at the port, Captain. Should we wait and form up before we move in?’

‘Don't stop,’ St. George ordered. ‘Bust straight on through. Watch for fighters, but don't stop!’

‘We're bashing through the perimeter fencing now, Captain. The fighters seem to have pulled out’ The Sergeant's voice sounded odd.

‘Good. They've pulled back to refuel. Get to the DropShip, Sarge. We're right behind you.’

‘We're almost there, just past these warehouses. Captain, there's a lot of smoke coming from the flight line...’ McHaigh's voice faded out.

‘Oh, God, no.’ The voice that cut in was Lipescue's. The despair gave it an ugly sound.

‘Sergeant McHaigh, report!’ There was silence. Captain St. George felt the icy hand of fear clutch his heart. His lance charged through the fence. If anything, his speed increased as he bolted the last few meters past the walls of the warehouses that led to the flight line. The Shadow Hawkemerged onto the tarmac.

The 'Mechs of his company spread out in a half circle like mourners at a funeral pyre. Against a backdrop of grim gray sky and straggling undergrowth stood the burning DropShip.

Captain St. George moved forward like a man in a nightmare. This was the one contingency he had not foreseen. He knew they would wait for him, and so they had, to the bitter end.

Silence. Then the other ‘guests’ started to arrive from among the port's outbuildings. An Atlasloomed up and came to a halt as a Cicadaraced by.

Over St. George's radio, on broad beam, came a voice. ‘It almost worked. The merc's surrender slowed down the regulars, but we came right on through. Formally, sir, Hansen's Roughriders would like to offer the men of The Swords of St George 'alternate transportation.'‘